ALL THE GOOD THINGS He was in the third grade class I taught at Saint Mary?Ts School in Morris, Minnesota. All 34 of my students were dear to me, but Mark Eklund was one in million. Very neat in appearance, he had that happy-to-be-alive attitude that made even his occasional mischievousness delightful. Mark also talked incessantly. I tried to remind him again and again that talking without permission was not acceptable. What impressed me so much, though, was the sincere response every time I had to correct him for misbehaving. ?oThank you for correcting me, Sister!? I didn?Tt 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. I made a novice-teacher?Ts mistake. I looked at Mark and said: ?oIf you say one more word, I am going to tape your mouth shut.? It wasn?Tt ten seconds later when Chuck blurted out: ?oMark is talking again.? I hadn?Tt asked any of the students to help me watch but since I had started 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 the drawer and took out a roll of masking tape. Without saying a word, I proceeded to Mark?Ts desk, removed the tape and shrugged my shoulder. His first words were: ?oThank you for correcting me, Sister.? At the end of the year I was asked to teach junior high math. The year 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 ?onew math?, he did not talk as much in ninth grade. One Friday things just didn?Tt feel right. We had worked hard on a new concept all week, and I sensed that the students were going 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 classroom 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. I took the remainder of the class period to finish the assignment, but as the students left the room, each one handed me their paper. Chuck smiled. Mark said: ?oThank 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, then I listed what everyone else had said about that individual. On Monday I gave each student his or her list. Some of them ran two papers. Before long, the entire class was smiling. ?oReally?? I heard whispered. ?oI never knew that meant anything to anyone.? ?oI didn?Tt 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?Tt 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 had returned from a vacation, my parents met me at the airport. As we were driving home, mother asked the usual questions about the trip: How the weather was, my experience in general. There was a slight lull in the conversation. Mother gave Dad a sideways glance and simply said: ?oDad?? My father cleared his throat. ?oThe Eklunds called last night? he began. ?oReally?? I said, ?oI haven?Tt heard from them for several years, I wonder how Mark is.? Dad responded quietly: ?oMark was killed in Korea,? he said ?othe 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 service man in a military coffin before. Mark looked so handsome, so mature. All I could think at that moment was: ?oMark, I would give all the masking tape in the world if only you could talk to me.? The church was packed with Mark?Ts friends. 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 had acted as a pallbearer came up to me: ?oWere you Mark?Ts math teacher?? he asked. I nodded as I continued to stare at the coffin. ?oMark talked about you a lot,? he said. After the funeral, most of Mark?Ts former classmates headed to Chuck?Ts farmhouse for lunch. Mark?Ts mother and father were there, obviously waiting for me. ?oWe want to show you something,? his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket, ?othey 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 paper were the ones that I listed all the good things each of Mark?Ts classmates had said about him. ?oThank you so much for doing that,? Mark?Ts mother said, ?oas you can see, Mark treasured it.? Mark?Ts classmates started to gather around us. Chuck smiled rather sheepishly and said, ?oI still have my list. It?Ts in the top drawer of my desk at home.? John?Ts wife said, ?oJohn asked me to put his in our wedding album.? ?oI have mine, toô?, Marilyn said, ?oit?Ts in my diary.? Then Vicky, another classmate reached into her pocket book, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group, ?oI carry this with me all times.? Vicky said without batting an eyelash, ?oI think we all saved our lists.? That?Ts when I finally sat down and cried. I cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again. /. ================================================== Last weekend, I accidentally read this be-moved-to-tear story. Mark was so identical to me when I was a young naughty boy. I also made so many mistakes then, and I responded in the same way that Mark reacted to his teacher. My beloved teacher, you were so kind *****ch a naughty student as I was. You helped me to get rid of doing all the nonsense things and focusing on my study. At first, I did not know why you had selected me, the most naughty and stubborn boy, to be the monitor of the class at that time. As time passed by, I understood that to be a good monitor, I had to study harder and became more obedient in order to lead our class to win the highest prize of our school. I thought that it was the most meaningful thing I could do to deserve your trust in me. You gave me the encouragement to study better for my brighter future. I haven?Tt seen you for a long time, my teacher. You now are very far away from me. I had moved to a big city where I studied the last two years of high secondary school and received the long expected university degree. Today, I am going along the road that I had told you at the last school-year ending ceremony. Never in my life shall I forget your advises and wishes you gave me on those days. I always bear in my mind that I will come back to see you with my maturity and hard-to-achieve laurels. At the moment, I just understand how your teachings meant to me. Looking back to the beautiful days gone by, I felt ashamed about what I had caused sadness and sorrow to you and my parents. I promise that I will try my best to translate your best wishes to me into reality. I will endeavour to bring the best things to the ones I loved and respected. May the New Year bring health, success and happiness to you and your family. Once again, thank you for teaching, taming and trusting in me, my beloved teacher!!! Dr. Lion King
