He was in the third grade class I taught at Saint Mary's School in colorado. All 32 of my students were important to me, but Mark Eklund was one in a million. He was very neat but had that happy to be alive attitude.Mark talked alot, I had to remind him alot that talking without permission was not aloud. but i liked his sinsere response every time I had to correct him for not behaving which was "Thank you for correcting me it will not happen again! one morning my patience was small when Mark talked once too much, and then I made a bad mistake. I looked at him and said, "If you say one more word, I am going to tape your mouth shut!" it wasn't ten seconds later when Chuck screamed, "mark is talking again." I hadn't asked any of the students to help me watch mark, but i didnt care I had to do something.i remember exactly what happened like it happened this morning. I walked to my desk, very quetily and opened my drawer and took out a roll of tape. Without saying a word, I walked to Mark's desk tore off two pieces of tape and stuck them over his mouth. I went back to the front of the room. when I looked at Mark to see how he was doing, he winked at me. That did it! I started laughing. The class bursted out laughing as I walked back to Mark's desk and removed the tape . His first words were, "Thank you for correcting me, Sister."At the end of the year I was asked to teach high skool math. The years went righyt by, and before I knew it Mark was in my classroom again. He was more polite than ever. Since he had to listen carefully to my instructions in the "new math," he did not talk as much in ninth grade as he did in the third.One Friday I asked the kids to list the names of the other students in the room on a peice of paper.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 last part of the class to finish the paper, and as the students left the room, each one handed me the papers. mark smiled. 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 taalked about them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter. That group of students went on. many years later, after I got back from vacation, my parents picked me up at the airport. when we were driving home, my mom asked me the regular questions about the trip like the weather and what i did. There was a awkward moment in the conversation. Mother gave Dad a weird look and said "Dad?" My father cleared his throat like he alwayd did before something important. "The Eklunds called last night," he said. "Really?" I said. "I haven't heard from them in years. I wonder how Mark is.Dad said quietly. "Mark was killed in war." he said. "The funeral is tomorrow, and his parents would like it if you could come." Mark looked so grown up. All I could think at that time was, Mark, I would give all the tape in the world if only you would talk to me. The church was full with Mark's friends. Why did it have to rain on the day of the funeral? It was difficult enough at the graveside. One by one people who loved Mark took a last walk by the coffin.I was the last one to bless the coffin. As I stood there, one of the solderes "Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked. i said yes questly as I stared at the coffin. "Mark talked about you a lot," he said.After the funeral, most of Mark's old classmates headed to Chuck's house for lunch. Mark's mother and father were there, waiting for me. "We want to show you something," his father said, taking smething out of his pocket. "They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might remember it."he took two worn pieces of notebook paper that had been taped, folded and unfolded many times. I knew without looking that the papers were the ones I had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates said about him. "Thank you so much for doing that," Mark's mother said. "i can tell, Mark treasured it."Mark's classmates started to gather around us, "I still have my list. It's in the desk at home, he said." Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me to put this in our box of memories." "I have mine too," Mary said. "It's in my diary." Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her book and took out her wallet and showed her old list to the group. "I carry this with me at all times," Vicki said, "I think we all saved our lists."That's when I sat down and cried. I cried for Mark and all his friends who would never see him again.
