讀點(diǎn)好英文:Thank You for Correcting Me, Sister! 修女，謝謝您的指教！

Thank You for Correcting Me, Sister! 修女，謝謝您的指教！

Sister Helen P. Mrosia

He was in the 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, he had that happy-to-be 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. "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. 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 the 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 × 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 entire 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.

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 growing 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 the assignment, but as the students left the room, each one handed me their paper. Chuck 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. Some of them ran, two pages. Before long, the entire class was smiling. "Realty?" 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 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 experiences in general. There was a slight lull in the conversation. Mother gave Dad a sideways glance and simply said, "Dad?" My father cleared his throat, "The Eklunds called last night," he began. "Really?" I said, "I haven't heard from them for several 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 1-494 where Dad told me about Mark.

I had nevel 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 could 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 had acted as a 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. Chuck smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still have my list. It's in the top drawer of my desk at home." John's wife said, "John 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 can 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 cried. I cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again.

修女，謝謝您的指教！

［美］莫麗薩修女

我曾在明尼蘇達(dá)州莫里斯市的圣瑪麗中學(xué)帶三年級班，班上有34名學(xué)生，我都很喜愛。而馬克·?？寺∈亲钐貏e的一個。他衣冠整潔，有點(diǎn)玩世不恭，甚至偶爾的淘氣行為也很招人喜歡。

馬克上課時經(jīng)常說話。我一次次地提醒他，未經(jīng)允許不能隨便講話。然而使我印象深刻的是，每次我糾正他的不禮貌行為時。他總會真摯地回答：“修女，謝謝您的指教！”最初聽到這話時，我簡直不知所措。但每天聽得多了，很快也就習(xí)慣了。

一天早上，馬克又不停地說話，我忍無可忍。犯了一個新老師常犯的錯誤。我盯著馬克說：“如果你再多說一個字我就把你的嘴巴用膠帶封上！”

10秒鐘還不到，查克就大叫：“馬克又說話了！”我并沒讓其他同學(xué)幫我監(jiān)督馬克，但既然當(dāng)著全班學(xué)生的面說出了要懲罰他的話，那就一定要執(zhí)行。

我還清楚地記得當(dāng)時的情景，仿佛就發(fā)生在今天早上：我走上講臺，從容地打開抽屜，拿出膠帶，一言不發(fā)地走到馬克桌前，撕下兩片膠帶交叉地貼在他的嘴巴上，然后回到講臺。

我瞥了他一眼想看他有何反應(yīng)，他卻沖我眨眨眼。我忍不住笑了，只好走到馬克桌前，撕下膠帶，無奈地聳聳肩，學(xué)生們都笑了。沒想到他的第一句話還是：“修女，謝謝您的指教?！?/p>

那年年底，我被安排去教初中數(shù)學(xué)。時光荏苒，一晃幾年過去了，馬克又成了我們班的學(xué)生。他比以前更帥氣了，還像以往一樣彬彬有禮。因?yàn)橐?xì)心聽我教的“新數(shù)學(xué)”，九年級的馬克不像以前那樣愛說話了。

一個星期五，事情很不順心。整整一星期，我們都在努力學(xué)習(xí)一個新概念，我感到學(xué)生們都有些氣餒了，而且急躁易怒。情況變得更糟糕，我必須控制這種焦躁。于是我讓學(xué)生們在兩張紙上列出班上同學(xué)的名字，在名字之間留出空白，并想想每位同學(xué)的優(yōu)點(diǎn)，然后寫在紙上。

這花去了那節(jié)課的剩余時間，當(dāng)學(xué)生們離開教室時，每個人都交上了他們寫好的東西。查克面帶微笑地看著我。馬克對我說：“修女，謝謝您的指教。周末愉快！”

那個周六，我在紙上分別寫下了每個學(xué)生的名字，并記下他們的優(yōu)點(diǎn)。星期一，我把這些紙發(fā)給每個人，有些人的優(yōu)點(diǎn)長達(dá)兩頁。不一會兒，全班學(xué)生都開心極了?！罢娴膯?？”我聽到他們小聲議論著，“我從沒想過，那對別人如此有意義！”“我從不知道別人這么喜歡我！”

之后，沒人再提紙條的事了。我不知道課后他們是否與父母談過此事，但那并不重要。這次活動已經(jīng)達(dá)到了目的，學(xué)生們之間又能相親相愛，愉快相處了。

這屆學(xué)生繼續(xù)升到高年級。幾年后，我度假回來，父母到機(jī)場接我，開車回家的路上，母親問了我旅途中諸如天氣、經(jīng)歷之類的一些瑣事。突然，她停下了，側(cè)臉看了父親一眼，說：“她爸？”父親清了下嗓子說道：“?？寺〖易蛲泶螂娫拋砹?。”“真的嗎？”我問，“我好幾年都沒有他們的消息了，不知道馬克現(xiàn)在過得怎樣。”

父親很平靜，“馬克犧牲在越南了?！彼f，“葬禮明天舉行，他的父母很希望你能參加?！敝钡浆F(xiàn)在，我仍清晰記得是在1-494公路上，父親告訴了我這一噩耗。

我以前從未見過士兵躺在軍用靈柩里的樣子。馬克看上去很英俊、成熟。那一刻，我想到的是：馬克，只要你能和我說說話。我愿將世上所有的膠帶丟棄。教堂里都是馬克的朋友，查克的姐姐唱著《合眾國戰(zhàn)歌》。為什么非得在葬禮那天下雨？沉重的心已經(jīng)夠難受了。牧師按常規(guī)做了禱告，號手吹起了軍號。深愛著馬克的人們一個接一個地圍著棺木走了一圈，并向它灑圣水。

我最后一個向馬克的靈柩祝福。站在那里時，一個抬靈柩的士兵走了過來?！澳邱R克的數(shù)學(xué)老師嗎？”他問我。我點(diǎn)點(diǎn)頭，繼續(xù)盯著靈柩?！榜R克以前經(jīng)常提到您?！彼f道。

葬禮后，許多馬克以前的同學(xué)都去查克的農(nóng)場吃午飯。馬克的父母也在那邊，顯然是在等著我?！拔覀兿虢o您看些東西，”馬克的父親邊說邊從口袋里拿出一只皮夾，“馬克犧牲時，他的戰(zhàn)友在他身上發(fā)現(xiàn)的，我們認(rèn)為您可能認(rèn)得。”

他打開皮夾，小心翼翼地取出兩張破損的筆記本紙，兩張紙很明顯被經(jīng)常打開、折起，也用膠帶粘過好多次了。不用看內(nèi)容我就知道是當(dāng)初我列出同學(xué)們說過的關(guān)于馬克的優(yōu)點(diǎn)的那兩張紙?！昂芨兄x您這么做，”馬克的母親說道，“您看，馬克很珍視它?！?/p>

?馬克的同學(xué)開始圍過來。查克笑著，靦腆地說：“我也保存著那張紙條。放在家里書桌最上層的抽屜里?！奔s翰的妻子說：“約翰讓我把紙條放在我們的結(jié)婚相冊里?！薄拔业囊策€在，”瑪麗琳說，“我夾在日記本里?！苯又S姬從她的手提包里拿出皮夾，把她那張舊的、磨損的紙條給大家看?！拔乙恢彪S身帶著，”維姬認(rèn)真地說道，“我想我們每個人都保存著它?！?/p>

那一刻我坐下來，哭了，為馬克哭泣，也為再也見不到馬克的朋友們而哭泣。

實(shí)戰(zhàn)提升

Practising & Exercise

導(dǎo)讀

莫麗薩修女（Sister Helen P. Mrosia），美國著名的小學(xué)老師，她獨(dú)特的教育方法為大家所稱贊。她把獨(dú)特的教育方法以及心得體會記錄下來，如今她的很多散文已成為教育界探索教學(xué)方法的寶典。

在這篇文章中，作者向我們說明了一個事實(shí)：老師的力量總能出乎我們的預(yù)料。莫麗薩修女當(dāng)年一個無心的舉動，卻使整個班的學(xué)生在成長的道路上心存感激，他們是如此珍視朋友間的這份感情。老師讓他們重新認(rèn)識到了自己的可貴之處。多年以后，這份感動仍然伴隨著大家。

核心單詞

mischievous [?mist?iv?s] adj. 惡作劇的；調(diào)皮的，淘氣的

deliberately [di?lib?r?tli] adv. 慎重地；謹(jǐn)慎地

crankiness [?kr?kinis] n. 任性；古怪

sprinkle [?spri?kl] v. 灑，噴淋；撒

frazzle [?fr?zl] v. 把……穿破；使……磨損

翻譯

I tried to remind him again and again that talking without permission was not acceptable.

I remember the scene as if it had occurred this morning.

It took the remainder of the class period to finish the assignment, but as the students left the room, each one handed me their paper.