Inspirational Love Story
All The 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 him 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 instructions
in the "new math," he did not talk as much in
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 the
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, and my experiences in general.
There was a light 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."
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. 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 had 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 Chucks 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 this 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 purpose of this story 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. Please spread this story 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. Tell them, before it is too late.
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