Can you tell that Rebecca Van Slyke’s newly released MOM SCHOOL gets an A+ for Absolute Adorableness? Trust me, it does. As the story goes, the little cutie-pie kiddo imagines that her mother learned all of her wonderful mom-like skills in Mom School. There might be a few things she wished her mom didn’t learn, too. Well, it got us EMUs imagining different kinds of wacky specialty school ideas.
So, here ya go. Specialty schools we wish existed:
Rebecca Van Slyke, our spotlight debut author, would choose a specialty school sure to save marriages and general sanity: “I would so sign up for a remote control school. On our coffee table we have—no lie—SEVEN remote controls. Here’s my husband “teaching” me how to start a movie:
“Okay, it’s really easy. All you do is take this one and hit ‘Power.’ Then take this one and hit ‘Power’ and ‘Display.’Then you scroll down with this button until you come to ‘ADXL’ and hit that one twice. Put the movie in her, but DON’T CLOSE THE DRAWER! Use the remote to close it with this button marked with the orange arrow. Then take this remote and hit ‘Power,’ ‘Open,’ ‘Display’ and ‘VHC6.’ Then THIS remote controls the volume, and THIS one controls the stereo. If you want surround sound, take THIS one and hit ‘Power,’ ‘Power,’ and the symbol that Prince used to use instead of his name…
Now WHY can’t you remember this?” If Janet Fox ever starts her own specialty school, I will arm wrestle anyone for first dibs: “Clone School! With course offerings like ‘How To Create Your Clone World'; ‘Control Your Clone Before It Controls You'; ‘Clones For Cleaning'; ‘Are You Your Clone?'”
Dr. Dolittle would be a perfect teacher at Maria Gianferrari’s wished-for specialty school: “My top choice for a specialty school: creature communication school hands down! There, you’d learn to speak dog as well as elephant, ladybug, ostrich, rattlesnake or robin. Maybe even rock.”
Mylisa Larsen’s preferred specialty school would give Google, Siri, Jack Hanna, and that smart kid (you know the one) some serious competition: “It’s less of a school and more of a service that I wish existed: Dial-a-Docent. They would have specialists of all kinds on staff to answer those pesky questions that are too specific to ever find just by searching on the internet. For example, when you accidentally touch a slug in the garden, the slug retracts its little antenna things. Like literally sucks them back into his/her/its (I’m a little unclear on how the slug world handles gender) head. So first of all, what is that about? Is it a mutual ewwwwww when slugs and humans touch? (“Dude, I was just out minding my own business eating some lettuce and I touched a human. It was like completely disgusting.”) And secondly, how do they do that? What are the actually mechanics of sucking your antennae into your head? I’m sure you’ve been wondering about this too. Um, right?”
Tam Smith adds a more Zen-style specialty school to the list: “I wish there was a school specifically for Yoga For Relaxation While Making Dinner WHILE the Kids are Running Around the House Yelling at the Top of Their Lungs. (I did the on-line certificate program which consisted of learning how to open a bottle of red wine, pouring a glass and drinking, but I’d like something a little more advanced now… :-))”
Leave it to Penny Parker Klostermann to come up with Duck Translation School-The Ins and Outs of Quacking: “This will be the fourth spring in a row that Mr. and Mrs. Quackers have made our yard their home. Mrs. Quackers lays eggs and sets. Mr. Quackers visits every now and then. Baby ducklings arrive and then the family waddles away to live on the nearby lake. It is fascinating to watch them. I would love to know what they’re quacking. And I would love to know if the duckling’s peeps are like human baby gibberish or if they come out talking adult quack.”
Adam Shaughnessy confesses to a great big problem. I’m sure glad the rest of us Never Ever struggle with this: “I’d like a specialty school for procrastination. I’m already pretty good at it, I guess, but I still always end up having to do the stuff I’m trying to put off. Maybe if I had an official degree I could put things off indefinitely. Yes, if there was a Procrastination School, I would definitely enroll! Probably tomorrow. Or after I get a couple of other things done…”
Maria Gianferrari’s specialty school should be mandatory, don’t you think? “There should be a school for stress. Oh, wait! One already exists. It’s called LIFE and we are all enrolled. Luckily that same school also offers lessons in love, contentment, and happiness. If we’re lucky, the second set of lessons are offered in equal – or better still – greater measure.”
Donna Janell Bowman would love a school that teaches time-manipulation magic, to learn how to juggle a bazillion responsibilities, deadlines, and to-do lists without compromising anything. On second thought… if we combined all of the Emu’s Debuts specialty school ideas, our clones would be operated by uber-simple universal remote controls that also work the dial-a-docent answers doodad, which would help us communicate with creatures, including ducks, and handbag-carrying pooches. And, when we get super busy, we could procrastinate any stressful feelings and opt for yoga instead.
Rush to your nearest independent book store, or order your copy of Rebecca’s Mom School from online retailers, like those listed below. And, don’t forget to comment on this post to be entered into a drawing for a free copy of the book.