Dear You: Sincerely, Me
Dear Mr. Wrong
Ann stood in the classroom as her students filed in, taking their seats. She turned to the board and scribbled a few notes. She said nothing to the class as the minutes passed. Finally, she picked up her letter from her desk and pulled herself up onto an empty desk by the board. She looked out over her students, of various sizes, ages, elasticities and backgrounds. And she intended on figuring out what happened to them in those backgrounds. That's what made her create this assignment for them.
"Hey guys. I have a special assignment for you. This won't be graded so don't worry about how it's written. I still want you to write it though. It's a letter to the person who you want to say something really bad to but are too afraid to do it. You don't have to worry about content, since this'll be completely anonymous.Don't worry, kids, I also won't be telling anyone about what's in your letters. This is safe, I promise." she said. She watched the frightened faces of her students and sighed.
"I'll read you mine, if that's okay by you." she said, shifting. The class nodded. She brushed her blonde hair behind her small shoulder, her willowy frame perched delicately on the desk. She watched with wide doe eyes.
"You want to hear it, as a kind of personal example?" the class nodded again, "Okay, here we go."
She held up the paper and began,
"Dear Mr. Wrong,
I want to tell you about your daughter. She said "I love you, Momma" today and then asked me where her real daddy was. She doesn't understand. She wishes she knew you. I don't. You were a bastard to me and everyone around. You knocked me up, told me I was a whore and that it wasn't yours then disappeared. I tried not to cry the first time I saw her, because she's gorgeous and I loved her. I still do. She's my angel but you'll never know that because I'm just a whore. But I don't need you. I never needed you, truly. You were just a good fuck and that's all. You could be replaced by any drunk sod I find in the bar. If that makes me a whore then fine. But I wanted you to know, you pathetic piece of shit that I did have YOUR child and that's that. Call me a whore if you'd like.
Sincerely,
YOUR child's mother."
She stopped, took a deep breath and looked up at her class. They ranged from freshman in high school to hardworking single mothers.
"Now you know how it is. Get started. It's due as soon as you think it's finished. There's no minimum or maximum length. Just... write. That's all I can ask. Write, okay? You're dismissed."
"Hey guys. I have a special assignment for you. This won't be graded so don't worry about how it's written. I still want you to write it though. It's a letter to the person who you want to say something really bad to but are too afraid to do it. You don't have to worry about content, since this'll be completely anonymous.Don't worry, kids, I also won't be telling anyone about what's in your letters. This is safe, I promise." she said. She watched the frightened faces of her students and sighed.
"I'll read you mine, if that's okay by you." she said, shifting. The class nodded. She brushed her blonde hair behind her small shoulder, her willowy frame perched delicately on the desk. She watched with wide doe eyes.
"You want to hear it, as a kind of personal example?" the class nodded again, "Okay, here we go."
She held up the paper and began,
"Dear Mr. Wrong,
I want to tell you about your daughter. She said "I love you, Momma" today and then asked me where her real daddy was. She doesn't understand. She wishes she knew you. I don't. You were a bastard to me and everyone around. You knocked me up, told me I was a whore and that it wasn't yours then disappeared. I tried not to cry the first time I saw her, because she's gorgeous and I loved her. I still do. She's my angel but you'll never know that because I'm just a whore. But I don't need you. I never needed you, truly. You were just a good fuck and that's all. You could be replaced by any drunk sod I find in the bar. If that makes me a whore then fine. But I wanted you to know, you pathetic piece of shit that I did have YOUR child and that's that. Call me a whore if you'd like.
Sincerely,
YOUR child's mother."
She stopped, took a deep breath and looked up at her class. They ranged from freshman in high school to hardworking single mothers.
"Now you know how it is. Get started. It's due as soon as you think it's finished. There's no minimum or maximum length. Just... write. That's all I can ask. Write, okay? You're dismissed."
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okay, I've asked some people to help me out with the classes' letters. If you're interested in helping me out, Message me and I'll see what i can do. :D you'll get credit too.thanks for reading. I'm in love with this story idea!
-kayt