This was sent to me by Bill
Cooper who is a
veteran of WWII and served with the 94th Infantry Division
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 grave side. 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.
Within 1 hour you must send it to other people. Within five days you will
have a miraculous occurrence in your relationships. 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?
The more people that you send this to, the better luck you will have. And
the better you'll get at reaching out to those you care about.
Here's the deal: Forward this letter to at least 10 different people; within
1 hour of receiving it. Do it, and reap what you sow: luck in love, people
who care for you, and that warm feeling that comes from loving others.
If anyone has information
please contact person direct by Email or Phone
if available
Click to enlarge
