The Nicest Thing They Could Say About Their Classmates

One day, a teacher asked her students to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name.

Then she 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 in the papers.

That Saturday, the teacher wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and listed what everyone else had said about that individual.

On Monday she gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. ‘Really?’ she heard whispered. ‘I never knew that I meant anything to anyone!’ and, ‘I didn’t know others liked me so much,’ were most of the comments.

No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. She 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. That group of students moved on.


Several years later, one of the students was killed in
Vietnam and his teacher attended the funeral of that special student.

She had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. He looked so handsome, so mature.

The church was packed with his friends. One by one, those who loved him took a last walk by the coffin. The teacher was the last one to bless the coffin.

As she stood there, one of the soldiers who acted as pallbearer came up to her. ‘Were you Mark’s math teacher?’ he asked. She nodded: ‘yes.’ Then he said: ‘Mark talked about you a lot.’

After the funeral, most of Mark’s former classmates went together to a luncheon. Mark’s mother and father were there, obviously waiting to speak with his teacher.

‘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. The teacher knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which she 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.’

All of Mark’s former classmates started to gather around. 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 and without batting an eyelash, she continued: ‘I think we all saved our lists.’

50 years later

That’s when the teacher finally sat down and cried. She cried for Mark and for all his friends who would 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.

Remember, you reap what you sow. What you put into the lives of others comes back into your own.

โ˜†โ˜†โ˜†โ˜†โ˜†

IN GOD WE TRUST

Please and Thank You ๐Ÿ˜Š

Thanks for supporting independent true journalism with a small tip. Dodie & Jack


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CINDY LEAL MASSEY, TEXAS AUTHOR

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11 comments

  1. I do believe I see Jack and Dodie in that classroom picture 50 years later!

    No saved personal list of my own but I will be saving this wonderful and heartwarming story.

    Liked by 3 people

  2. As a former teacher, I have some very precious letters and notes from former students that I treasure. This is a great reminder that a kind word or several kind words can carry a person through life when things are not going so well.

    Liked by 3 people

  3. My mama was a hard line school teacher all her life. You would learn something of value in her class even if it was nothing more than to sit down and shut up. One of her students was a girl that had lost the use of her arms from polio. She wrote with her toes. My mama took her aside one day and told her that she would have to do better at writing if she wanted to pass. Because of her disability no other teacher had ever required her to be anything other than legible. She worked at it at great length and before the end of the year had become quiet proficient at calligraphy. Years later after mom had retired, she received a written letter from her former student, now married with children of her own, thanking her for being the first person in her life that demanded that she be the equal of the rest of the world.

    Liked by 3 people

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