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ALL GOOD THINGS
He was in the first
third grade class I taught at Saint Mary's
School in Morris, Minn. All 34 of my students were dear to me, but Mark
Eklund was one in a million. Very neat in appearance, but had that
happy-to-be-alive attitude that made even his occasional mischievousness
delightful. Mark talked incessantly. I had to remind him again and again
that talking without permission was not acceptable. What impressed me so
much, though, was his sincere response every time I had to correct him for
misbehaving - "Thank you for correcting me, Sister!"
I didn't know what to make of it at first, but before long I became
accustomed to hearing it many times a day. One morning my patience was
growing thin when Mark talked once too often, and then I made a
novice-teacher's mistake. I looked at Mark and said, "If you say one more
word, I am going to tape your mouth shut!" It wasn't ten seconds later when
Chuck blurted out, "Mark is talking again." I hadn't asked any of the
students to help me watch Mark, but since I had stated the punishment in
front of the class, I had to act on it. I remember the scene as if it had
occurred this morning. I walked to my desk, very deliberately opened my
drawer and took out a roll of masking tape. Without saying a word, I
proceeded to Mark's desk, tore off two pieces of tape and made a big X with
them over his mouth. I then returned to the front of the room. As I
glanced
at Mark to see how he was doing, he winked at me. That did it!! I started
laughing. The class cheered as I walked back to Mark's desk, removed the
tape, and shrugged my shoulders. His first words were, "Thank you for
correcting me, Sister."
At the end of the year, I was asked to teach junior-high math. The
years flew by, and before I knew it Mark was in my classroom again. He was
more handsome than ever and just as polite. Since he had to listen
carefully to my instruction in the "new math," he did not talk as much in
ninth grade as he had in third. One Friday, things just didn't feel right.
We had worked hard on a new concept all week, and I sensed that the
students were frowning, frustrated with themselves - and edgy with one
another. I
had to stop this crankiness before it got out of hand. So I asked them to list
the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving
a space between each name. Then I told them to think of the nicest thing
they could say about each of their classmates and write it down. It took
the remainder of the class period to finish their assignment, and as the
students left the room, each one handed me the papers. Charlie smiled.
Mark said, "Thank you for teaching me, Sister. Have a good weekend." That
Saturday, I wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of
paper, and I listed what everyone else had said about that individual. On
Monday I gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class
was smiling. "Really?" I heard whispered. "I never knew that meant
anything to anyone!" "I didn't know others liked me so much." No one ever
mentioned those papers in class again. I never knew if they discussed them
after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter. The exercise had
accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one
another again. That group of students moved on.
Several years later, after I returned from vacation, my parents met
me at the airport. As we were driving home, Mother asked me the usual
questions about the trip - the weather, my experiences in general. There
was a lull in the conversation. Mother gave Dad a side-ways glance and
simply says, "Dad?" My father cleared his throat as he usually did before
something important.
"The Eklunds called last night," he began. "Really?" I said. "I
haven't heard from them in years. I wonder how Mark is." Dad responded
quietly. "Mark was killed in Vietnam," he said. "The funeral is tomorrow,
and his parents would like it if you could attend." To this day I can still
point to the exact spot on I-494 where Dad told me about Mark. I had never
seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. Mark looked so handsome, so
mature. All I could think at that moment was, Mark I would give all the
masking tape in the world if only you would talk to me. The church was
packed with Mark's friends. Chuck's sister sang "The Battle Hymn of the
Republic." Why did it have to rain on the day of the funeral? It was
difficult enough at the graveside. The pastor said the usual prayers, and
the bugler played taps. One by one those who loved Mark took a last walk
by the coffin and sprinkled it with holy water. I was the last one to bless
the coffin.
As I stood there, one of the soldiers who acted as pallbearer came
up to me. "Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked. I nodded as I
continued to stare at the coffin. "Mark talked about you a lot," he said.
After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates headed to Chuck's
farmhouse for lunch. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously
waiting for me. "We want to show you something," his father said,
taking a wallet
out of his pocket. "They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought
you might recognize it." Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two
worn
pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded
many times. I knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which
I had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about
him.
"Thank you so much for doing that," Mark's mother said. "As you can see,
Mark treasured it."
Mark's classmates started to gather around us. Charlie smiled
rather sheepishly and said, "I still have my list. It's in the top drawer
of my desk at home." Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me to put his in our
wedding album." "I have mine too," Marilyn said. "It's in my
diary." Then
Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet
and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. "I carry this with me
at
all times," Vicki said without batting an eyelash. "I think we all saved
our lists."
That's when I finally sat down and cried. I cried for Mark and for
all his friends who would never see him again.
THE END
Written by: Sister Helen P. Mrosla
The purpose of this letter is
to encourage everyone to
compliment the people you love and care about. We often tend to forget the
importance of showing our affections and love. Sometimes the smallest of
things, could mean the most to another. I am asking you, to please send
this letter around and spread the message and encouragement, to express
your love and caring by complimenting and being open with communication. The
density of people in society is so thick that we forget that life will end
one day.
And we don't know when that one day will be. So please, I beg of
you, to tell the people you love and care for, that they are special and
important. Tell them, before it is too late.
Send this to other people and you may find new
love or have an old love rekindled.
If you do not send it, you will have, once again passed up the
opportunity to do something loving and beautiful and continue the trend
that gives you problems in your relationships.
If you've received this it is because someone cares for you and it
means there is probably at least someone for whom you care. If you're too
busy to take the few minutes that it would take right now to forward this
to ten people, would it be the first time you didn't do that little thing
that would make a difference in your relationships?
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