Special Person
Special Teacher
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 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 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 sideways 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.
Ater 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 could never see him again.
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, tell the people you love and care
for, that they are special and important.
Tell them, before it is too
late.
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.
MAY YOUR DAY BE AS SPECIAL AS YOU ARE !!!!
