HRTZEN: Fwd: I appreciate you!!

[Guest guest]

> A special story to remind us to reach out, encourage and share from the heart.

Anita asked me to share this with loved ones. Gloria

>

>

>

> ALL 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 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 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,

> 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.

>

>