First, I apologize for the non-LBC content, but thought this message was
worth the flak if it comes. As a Nam vet, it struck home on one level and
then I realized that it applies in general. Bill Wood came to mind, as did
Dennis Riley and others who have been members of this list over the years.
There is no need to respond to the list; if you feel it important, then pass
it along. If you want to complain, then respond to me and not the list.
Carl.
>
> ALL GOOD THINGS
>
> He was in the 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 mischieviousness 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 teachers 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 for any 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, and 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 the ninth grade as he had in the 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 everybody 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 anybody 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
returning
> 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 said, 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, and
took out
> her wallet and showed her worn frazzled list to the group. I carry
> this with me at all times, Vicki said without battling an eyelash.
I
> think we all saved our lists.
>
> That's 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 day will be. So
please,
> tell the people you love and care for, that they are special and
> important. Tell them, before it is too late.
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