Stories such as this one gives us a glimpse of how important a single word can be
from
Akemi and Winky
Sent to me by "Tayako"
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 withut 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 kow 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 growning 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 ws 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 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 names 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 acomplished 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 abut 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 the 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 abut 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 billforld, 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,
"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.
song
"Power Of Love"
This gift was given to me by a beautiful Lady my friend "Fawna" Thank You!!
I want to thank everyone who enjoyed this site and nominated me for this special award for the site "I BE YOUR LEGS". I accept it with honors!
