Schooled (29 page)

Dear Billy Joel and 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.”

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.

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 fun. I hate Eric the Midget Douchebag Actor, and 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.

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 was extraordinary. I want to be the meat in an Ian-Jared sandwich!

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

I don’t know how you did it, but you did it. You make 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 I had nine orgasms in three days, which is unheard of for a 39-year-old wife and mother of four. Thank you. 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 was 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. Actually, 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.

Dear Steve Abrams (Owner of Magnolia Bakery):

Yeah, you’ve got some damn good cupcakes. Delicious, worth every penny, and the excruciatingly long wait. However, the banana cream pie is even better, TO DIE FOR. It’s a good thing you aren’t located in Northeast Ohio. I’d have to live in your bakery, which would be horrendous for my health and girth. I’ll see you next time I’m in New York.

Dear my totally-in love-lesbian friends:

I am sorry that you have a TOUGH road ahead of you; the general public is ignorant and intolerant. Don’t give up. There will be happiness at the end of the rainbow. Get it? Rainbow! Thank you for helping with the lesbian sex knowledge. I appreciate your help and honesty. May each state wake up and realize that two people, despite what they’re packing (or not packing) between their legs have the opportunity to get married. Love is love.

Dear Chelsea Handler:

You rock my life. I started reading your books shortly after having a baby, and damn, did I need that. I think you cured my post-partum depression with full out belly bouncing laughter. Your books are amazing. You are the “funny” I want to be. My girlfriends and I saw you in Cleveland—hilarious. I often thought that I could be the comedienne you are, if I were tall, blonde, thin, and sexy. Yes, mark that down, I called you thin. Thank you for the laughs.

Dear Henry David Thoreau:

I like you. I love what you stand for, olden-day tree hugger! Although, I believe in your “Simplify, Simplify,” I am so not that person. I have totally sold out and love the luxuries in life. I’m sorry. But, I do enjoy teaching your works to my students. Even though, I am a materialistic mess, maybe I can convince my students not to be. Can we call it even?

Dear Dan Brown:

When I read your books, I feel really smart. While reading
Angels and Demons,
I got so scared that I actually hid my book under my bed, away from me for six weeks. Finally, I got it back out and finished it. That dirt part was crazy scary. You must do a ton of research. The only research I did for my book was to ask my daughter how many characters were allowed in a Twitter post. Dare to dream….

Dear David Baldacci:

I’m sorry to admit this, but I’ve never read anything from you. However, I needed to give you a shout out, because you are my husband’s favorite author. If you read above, I cannot handle scary or suspenseful material. My husband said that I should probably steer clear of your books. I’m sorry.

Dear
Cosmopolitan
Magazine:

You were my 20s. Without you, my husband wouldn’t be married to the ever-horny vixen that he is today. You taught me a lot. Just recently, I got another subscription, and was disappointed that I may have “outgrown” you. I think you are for the 20-somethings, teaching them to be experimental, but safe. I loved you; I think you are an important magazine for young women to read and explore. Thank you. My husband thanks you.

Dear Facebook and Twitter:

Facebook, I may be a little addicted to you. I love posting the crazy things my kids do and say; I love showing anyone who will look pictures of my family. I really think I could be a spokeswoman for Facebook. I still cannot believe that there are still people, people I actually know, who don’t have an account. Stupid asses. I would like to recommend a “dislike” button. That would make me uber happy.

Twitter, I don’t have an account. I am not that technologically savvy. Actually, I think I do have one, but I’m not really sure what to do with it. How do I get people to “follow” me? Where am I going? It’s probably something that I should have, considering I have a book to advertise and all now. I’ll ask my students to help me. They do all that junk for me. Oh wait! They cannot know about my dirty book. Ah, forget it.

Dear Alcoholics Anonymous (AA):

I’m sorry I only referred to you as a joke. You are no joke, but yet a very important organization, changing and bettering lives every day. Please keep up the good work, helping individuals stay sober. For any readers interested, you can visit the Alcoholics Anonymous website for local listings and meeting locations. Telephone directories will assist you in finding a local chapter near you.

Dear Robert Frost:

My favorite poem to teach by you is “Stopping By Woods On a Snowy Evening.” I did a whole lesson on imagery with it. It was pretty cool. If you were, ya know, alive, I think you’d have liked it. My second favorite is “Fire and Ice,” but neither fit into my book/dream scene. Therefore, I went with your most popular, making it seem like I just do what everyone else does. And ya know those two roads, the ones in the woods? I wouldn’t have taken either of them. I would never been alone in the woods. Too scary, and plus, the woods have creepy scurrying things.

Dear Michigan:

Here’s a secret, I don’t hate you. Actually, I don’t hate you at all. Without you, where would the fun be in the rivalry? Being an Ohio State alumna, I enjoy the “smack talk” with Michigan fans, but I understand the importance of our relationship. Mid-November every year wouldn’t be what it is today without y’all up north. Looking forward to seeing you again soon, and until then, GO BUCKS! MICHIGAN SUCKS!

(With song lyrics for enhancement)

I would like to take this opportunity to thank the following people, the people in my life who helped make my dream, this book, a reality.