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Date: Saturday, October 24, 1998 2:39 PM
Subject: saturday reading


>I really enjoyed reading this and was touched by it. Whether it's true or
not
>doesn't really matter.
>Love, Tina
>
>>> 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 by 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 and 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.