Schooled 4.0

by Deena Bright

  Dear I-hop:

  Lately, I am OVERLY into you. I love the Healthy and Fit pancakes—delicious. My kids are thrilled, because we have been frequenting your establishment quite a bit lately. They love the whole “breakfast for dinner” thing. With that said, is there any way you could add some banana batter to the Healthy and Fit pancakes? If you add bananas, then I’ll probably need to be physically removed from the premises. Just saying…

  Add on for the rewrite of the book: Actually, I’ve been doing the whole “no carbs” thing lately, so I haven’t gotten to experience those scrumptious pancakes in a long time.

  Dear Apple and iPhone creators:

  You complete me. Enough said.

  Dear William Shakespeare:

  Dude, you’re dead! Why am I still talking about you? You died hundreds of years ago. You didn’t cure Cancer, free slaves, or anything. Why do you matter? I don’t get it. I know it is an aberration for an English teacher to loathe Shakespeare, but listen closely, there are a bunch of us who do! No kidding! I mean A Mid Summer Night’s Dream is a damn good play, easy to read, easy to understand. You obviously had it in you, but then what happened with the other junk? And another thing, Romeo and Juliet knew each other for like 48 hours before wanting to die for the other. Seriously? I’ve been married for 12 years and I’m not even certain that I’d take a bullet for my husband. That’s just ridiculous. And, Romeo was in love with some other chick at the start of the play. I’d vow chastity too if that pansy-ass kid wanted in my pants!

  You’re probably wondering why you got into my book then, right? Truthfully? I’m not sure. I teach English; I’m stuck with you, for what feels like eternity. You just won’t go away.

  Add on for the rewrite of the book: Holy shit Shakespeare, guess what? I’m going to write the PREQUEL for Romeo and Juliet. I’m going to write the story as to why the Montagues and Capulets have been warring all these years. I bet Lady M. and Lord C. had a thing…

  Dear Jim Tressel:

  I adore you. I forgive whatever acts the BCS have nailed you with. The BCS is jank anyway. Nobody likes them. Every year one of my students wants to do a research paper on why the BCS rating system should be changed. Everyone still loves you. You’re totally adorable, completely approachable, and surprisingly witty and funny. I am proud of what you did for and with my Buckeyes. I spent many years watching and wondering what was going on with John Cooper. Good guy, not a great coach. Thanks for coming in and making me a proud Buckeye Alumna again.

  Add on for the rewrite of the book: The University of Akron is dumb. You should’ve gotten the job as their president. Youngstown is lucky.

  Dear Starbucks:

  Before reading your letter of praise, please refer back to Keurig’s letter. I’m sorry, but hot liquid doesn’t do it for me. In the winter, I do hit the drive-through and get the Unsalted Hot Chocolate every so often. It’s pretty good; I do let it cool before drinking it though. Coffee tastes like my husband’s butt. Don’t ask. But in the summer, oh Starbucks, that Vanilla Bean Frappuccino is an important part of my life. I even like to dunk the Vanilla Biscotti into the Vanilla Bean Frapp. Scrumptious.

  I do have to say, I’m never going to get on board with your sizing. I don’t want to learn another language to order a milkshake. I order the small, medium, or large, only to be corrected by the drive-through BARISTA! Seriously, barista? I’m in the Midwest here. Anyway, you obviously know more than I do. I teach in one classroom all day long; you’re on every corner throughout the freaking country. I digress. You’re better than me! Keep up the good work, and I’ll continue to allow my fictitious characters to worship you.

  Add on for the rewrite of the book: Starbucks, you did it. I’m a huge fan now. I cannot get enough of the Passion Tea Lemonade Sweetened with extra ice. It’s my summer juice.

  Dear William Bickley and Michael Warren (the creators/writers of Family Matters):

  I’d do Stephan in a heartbeat. Beautiful specimen of manhood. I’m glad y’all created that transformation chamber. I also liked that crazy girl that played Steve Urkel’s girlfriend, Myra. She was a great character.

  Now, here’s what really bothers me. Did you think your viewers were idiots? The Winslow family was larger, with more members, during that first season. Where did those people go? You cannot do that to people; we need clarification. Granted, it was MUCH BETTER without those additions. You should have included some sort of voiceover after the opening theme song, saying something like “Due to the boring creation of asinine characters, we cut them from the show. Hope you like it better now.” We’d truly appreciate stuff like that. Remember Happy Days? Did you not learn anything from the elimination of “Chuck,” Ritchie and Joanie’s older brother. Where the Hell did he go? People don’t like that crap without an explanation. Am I right? I liked your show though. Stephan could enter my chamber any day.

  Dear Pearl Jam:

  I’m sorry; I’ve never listened to your music. I’m not all that into music. My college roommate was totally, head over heels in love with you. One night, she actually tried to come up with a way to move to Seattle, Washington, so she could meet Eddie Vedder and marry him. I didn’t even know who she was talking about. She was convinced that she could make him fall in love with her. Granted, we may have been a little “out of it,” but hey, she was determined.

  Dear McDonald’s:

  The 300 calorie Egg McMuffin is the start of many of my mornings. I wake up happy, knowing that I’m going to consume it shortly. It truly is a wonderful start to my days, keeping me full and satisfied until my 42-minute lunch break. Ahhh, the joys of teaching. Please never discontinue the Egg McMuffin; it would ruin my life.

  Add on for the rewrite of the book: Well look at you, the Egg White Delight has even less calories. You go, Ronnie McDonnie!

  Dear Sophocles (Writer of Oedipus Rex and Antigone):

  I suppose I like you a little more than Shakespeare, but you’re still old and dead. I don’t like that. But dude, you’ve got issues. Jacosta was Oedipus’ mom, and they had four kids together. That is some messed up crap. And to think, I was worried people would condemn me for writing about an adult teacher sleeping with adult students. I think I like you better than Willy, because you’re an olden day Jerry Springer episode. That’s pretty cool. Well, rest peacefully.

  Add on for the rewrite of the book: Well Sophocles, I was worried that people would condemn me for writing Schooled. Oh Hell did they condemn me! I wonder, you wrote a play about a woman who sleeps with her son, unknowingly. Did people try to tar and feather you for incest? Did they accuse you of sleeping with your mom? Fiction. Fiction. Learn the definition people!

  Dear Disney Productions and Writers/Animators for The Little Mermaid:

  I love that Flounder. What an adorable little fella! I put my nieces in Ariel bathing suits, because every time I think of Ariel, I am reminded of my junior year of high school. That year, my best guy friend, (completely platonic relationship, to my dismay) seriously wouldn’t date anyone, because she wasn’t “as hot as Ariel.” He was so in love with your cartoon depiction of a gorgeous mermaid that it ruined him for all of us: living, breathing, and willing young adolescent females. All he talked about that year was “Ariel this, Ariel that.” So yeah, thanks for that.

  Add on for the rewrite of the book: Dudes, Frozen, nice job!

  Dear Catherine Johnson (Writer/creator of Mamma Mia! the musical):

  Great musical! You should be proud of yourself. I thoroughly enjoyed it, even though my butt barely fit in the seats in the theater in Vegas. Seriously, like the Mandalay Bay doesn’t have enough money to extend their theater seating. I sat down, and was like “Mamma mia! I’m neva gonna leave here.” Normally, something like that would ruin a show for me, but I kept with it and still enjoyed it while my ass molded to the seats. Hey Mandalay Bay, how about a free stay next time I’m in Vegas? Say this coming October? You kind of owe it to me and my big ass to make up for it.

  Dear Billy Joel an
d Twyla Tharp (Writer and Choreographer of Movin’ Out):

  Billy, like my main character, I don’t listen to music. It bores me. You however have always been the exception. I love your music, your voice, everything. You’re wonderful. I’ve seen you in concert six times, once front row. The last time I saw you in concert, I was 9-months pregnant. You can park your piano in my house any time, if ya know what I’m saying. Twyla, I’m jealous of you; I want to work with Billy. Your choreography was phenomenal though. Loved it.

  Dear Madonna Louise Ciccone:

  Madonna, you, unlike William Shakespeare, are timeless. Granted, I probably stopped really listening to music when you were at your peak, but that never made me stop loving your Immaculate Collection. I think that you really should consider having someone write a musical that coordinates with your songs. Maybe you could talk to Stephen Schwartz, Winnie Holzman, or Catherine Johnson; they seem to know their crap. Or Hell, you could even take a risk, go out on limb, and say have me, Deena Bright, write it for you. I know I’ve never written a musical and am “Like A Virgin,” but I think I could do it justice and “Justify My Love” for you. All kidding aside, you are a great artist, singer, and performer. I am planning to attend your concert in Ohio this winter; I’m very much looking forward to it. You’re my favorite “Material Girl.”

  Add on for the rewrite of the book: I went to that concert in Cleveland. Madonna, lady, we have got to talk. I am 41-years-old with four freaking kids. When my ticket says that a concert is going to begin at 8:00 p.m., I expect that concert to begin around that time. Coming on stage well after 10:00 p.m. is unacceptable and downright rude. Not only did I have to pay extra for a babysitter for the night, but I also had to drive home an hour away after the concert. My husband’s contacts only hold up for so long in the night hours. By midnight, he can’t see jack shit. So, I had to drive!

  Also, I scrapped the idea of writing a Madonna musical—not because I don’t think there should be one. Your concert is a musical. It’s a show in itself. I could never do it justice.

  Dear Justin Bieber:

  I’m sorry; I don’t know anything about you. I think you’re adorable, and so is that Selena girl you date (dated?). I know my sons’ little girlfriends and even my freshman female students are infatuated with you, so I figured that I’d use you as my heartthrob icon. I hope that is flattering to you. Since I don’t hear a bunch of rumors and crap about you, then you must be a pretty good kid. Nice work Bieber parents. Stay cool, make smart decisions, and don’t become a douche-y jitbag.

  Add on for the rewrite of the book: Dude, it’s been two years. What in the world happened? Come on kid, pull it together. There’s still time to get your life back on track. You can have fun and enjoy your young single years, but jeez, make some smarter decisions.

  Dear Howard Stern:

  I love you. Long story short, I used to have to commute from Northeast Ohio to Columbus, Ohio for classes at Ohio State, due to personal reasons. I usually spent the beginning of my drive, wiping my tears from crying. Then, I’d turn on the radio, and you’d get me out of my funk. That was 20 years ago. I appreciate you and how you handle certain people and situations. You’re funny, witty, and sexy. I miss Artie terribly. I have always wanted to tell you that you were remarkably impressive when you stayed on the radio, broadcasting information on the morning of 9/11. Truly wonderful! Thanks for being on the radio for me. Keep doing what you’re doing, screw the rest of the critics.

  Add on for the rewrite of the book: Oh my God, I guess you talked about me! I didn’t get to hear it, but so many people told me about it. Apparently, Robin read you the story from the Huffington Post about my school trying to fire me for writing Schooled. I cannot believe I was “kind of” on your show. Dream come true!

  Dear Stephenie Meyer (Writer of the Twilight Series and The Host):

  You did what writers have been wanting to do for years now; you brought back reading, a love of reading. My students worship you and carry around your books. As you can see from the criticism in my book, there are parts of your story that I cannot agree with or relate to, but the bottom line is that you got my students interested in reading; something I have been struggling with and trying to do for years. Kudos to you!

  I always said though that I needed to say something to you if I ever got the opportunity to do so. I guess this is my only chance. You have fans! Lots of them! Why are you leaving us (yes me) hanging? Poor Wanda has been with Ian in the dessert forever now. What is going on? I need to know. I loved The Host. The sexual tension in it is extraordinary. I want to be the meat in an Ian-Jared sandwich!

  Dear E.L. James (Writer of the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy):

  I don’t know how you did it, but you did it. You made sex seem less taboo and forbidden for some of these frigid bitches of America. People are talking, opening up, and even wanting more. I read Fifty Shades on vacation, and I need to say that you made my husband and I very happy. My husband thanks you. We are forever in your debt. It was A Hundred Shades of Wow vacation for me!

  Dear Suzanne Collins (Writer of the Hunger Games series):

  You are a remarkable writer. The Hunger Games is an incredible book, complete with literary superiority and thought. From page 24 on, I cried throughout the book. I empathized with the characters, fearing for their lives. I knew about half-way through the book that I wanted to teach the novel to my freshmen. By the end of the book, I had all of the paperwork filled out, approved, and an order placed for 125 books. The following year, each student read the book, cover-to-cover, and did extremely well on the test. It was fascinating to watch students in this day and age so engaged and enthralled in a book. You should be proud of yourself; I am inspired and awed by you.

  On a similar note, could you write an erotica series, featuring Katniss and Cinna, ensuring that Lenny Kravitz and Jennifer Lawrence star in the roles? The scene in the movie right before Katniss gets sucked up that pipe has loads of sexual tension. I think it could be a beautiful skin flick. Also, since I convinced my school to purchase 125 copies of your book, could you purchase 125 copies of Schooled? Fair is fair.

  Again, you are remarkable. Thank you for your art and talent.

  Dear Kathryn Stockett (Writer of The Help):

  I loved The Help; I recommended it to every one of my friends and even to my serious reading students. I wanted to share it with everyone. I describe it as the perfect book. It has the perfect amount of humor, love, friendship, sadness, and history, never going overboard on one theme. I loved it. Granted, I would love to change the end and have Aibileen steal Mae-Mobley and run to New York with Miss Skeeter, but hey, that’s just me. My heart broke for both of them. I like a happy, feel-good ending. That is the chick-lit lover in me. I could only dream of being a writer with your depth and wit.

  Dear Robert De Niro (Owner of Nobu Restaurant):

  Hey Robert De Niro, I’m talking to you! Yeah, I’m talking to you. I’ve never been to your restaurant, but I plan to see what all the celebrity hype is about someday. Howard Stern likes nothing and he likes your restaurant. It must be worth it. I’ll be in some time in the future.

  Dear Stephen Schwartz and Winnie Holzman (Writers and creators of the musical Wicked):

  I truly cannot express my awe of Wicked. When I returned from New York City, I talked of very little other than the musical. It was the most superb theater event I’ve ever witnessed. Going in to the theater, I wasn’t all that thrilled, because I was never a Wizard of Oz fan. I never really thought it was that great. Now, I cannot wait to introduce the Wizard of Oz to my children, so that I can one day take them to New York to see Wicked. The creativity and writing is beyond anything I’ve ever witnessed; it was clever and full of surprises and intelligent humor.

  In my senior English class, I always choose literature that we can analyze two sides of each story. I need Wicked to be a movie, so we can watch it and analyze how the story changes and evolves, granting empathy to characters one didn’t deem worthy. A
ctually, I wish I were watching it right now. Additionally, the beach towel that I bought at the musical is by far the greatest beach towel on the planet. It is bigger, softer, and cozier than any other beach towel I’ve ever owned. Seriously, great beach towel, great show, just all around great. I mean business when I sing the praises of Wicked.

  Dear Jim Jacobs and Warren Casey (Writers and creators of the musical Grease):

  I love you; I’ve always loved you. I spent my childhood years wanting to be Sandy in that final scene, not realizing she changed who she was to fit the ideals of a man, but I wanted to be her. Who didn’t? I even directed Grease when I was the high school musical director. It turned out pretty well, if I do say so myself. In my adult years, I realize that I really want to be Rizzo and sing “There are Worse Things.” What a great song! Also, my husband and I karaoke to “Summer Nights” whenever there’s an opportunity. We are awful, horrific really. Thank you for being an important part of my childhood, adolescence, and adulthood. Grease is the word.

  Dear March of Dimes:

  I hate that you exist. Meaning, I hate that you HAVE to exist. I hate that so many babies and their families need your help; it’s truly heartbreaking. I wish I could take away all the pain for those little babies, vanishing the fear and suffering for their parents too. I watched my friend crumble as her baby suffered and died. It was the most horrific thing I’ve ever witnessed. I commend you for your work. Thank you for what you do.