(Written by: Sister Helen P. Mrosla)
 
He was in the first third grade class I taught at Saint Mary's School in 
Morris, Minnesota. 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 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 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 farm 
house 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

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.

Within 1 hour you must send it to other people. Within five days you will have 
a miraculous occurrence in your relationships. You may find new love or have 
an old love rekindled.

If you do not send it, you will have, once again passed up the opportunity to 
do something loving and beautiful and continue the trend that gives you 
problems in your relationships.

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. If you're too busy to take the 
few minutes that it would take right now to forward this to ten people, would 
it be the first time you didn't do that little thing that would make a 
difference in your relationships?

The more people that you send this to, the better luck you will have. And the 
better you'll get at reaching out to those you care about.

Here's the deal: Forward this letter to at least 10 different people; within 1 
hour of receiving it. Do it, and reap what you sow: luck in love, people who 
care for you, and that warm feeling that comes from loving others.

