In Remembrance of Nicholas Marsh -

Being a schoolteacher, I face many new challenges each day. I have the privilege to work with some
of the greatest people in the world, teen-agers. I love my job and the adventures I face. Most people
frown and say that they would not have my job at all when I tell them I teach Middle School. They
say "Those kids are different." Yes they are all different. That is what I love about teaching this age.
The challenge. The challenge to share with each one the joys and sorrows that life have to bring. But
every once in a while, a student comes along that teaches you and the others around them more than you could ever teach them. In this case it was Nicholas Marsh.

Most teenagers today take life for granted. Nic did not. After cleaning out his locker on Monday, I was looking at some of his English Journal writings. On one of the pages, Mrs. Groover had asked the students to list some of their life's goals. At the top was Nic's list of long-range goals. They were all simple ones: Get a scholarship, attend Ole Miss, and join the Navy. His short-term goals were also as simple and achievable: They were to make good grades and complete the 8th grade. His daily goal was even simpler but the most important to him, it was simply to wake up everyday. He knew if he woke up every morning that that was the best accomplishment he could achieve. Everything else was a result of that.

That says a lot about Nic. He knew that everyday was a gift. He would come to school each day and not complain even though he was in pain or felt bad. He kept up with all of his work and did so without any complaints while the others without problems would sit and gripe about the workload, being tired, or sweating small stuff or just not doing anything because they just did not want to.

Nic was proud of his school. He loved football and was so excited and happy when Coach Williams still allowed him to be on the sidelines and wear his football jersey. The football players never treated him any differently than one of their own. When we won a game or lost he knew he was a part of it all. When Joey got hurt and was hospitalized, he came and told me about it. He was concerned for Joey's health but he said, look at the bright side, he will be there with me and I have lots of great things to look at referring to the cheerleaders and dance teams that surrounded him on the sidelines. Nic was included in everything the SMS Dance team did. He would climb in the car with Magan every time he knew that they were going to do something with the team. He attended all of the dances, competitions, and the get togethers and was welcomed. The girls loved him and included him not out of pity but out of the love of his wit. I never will forget the smile on his face when he danced with Mallory or Ashley at the dances. You would have thought he had just won a million dollars. At one of the parties at the study hall, Nic came up to me with blood running down his hand and holding his head. His first words were don't panic, I am OK. I just need some more gauze. To my amazement, he had fallen earlier that morning and had been taken to the hospital and had staples put in his head. He was not going to let a cut or staples stop him from dancing and having a great time that night.

Nic was accepting of his illness. He never asked for pity or sorrow. He did not want special treatment or help. He allowed himself to keep on living but did so one day at a time.

He was also very proud of his parents and the fact that they did not shelter him and put him on a shelf to watch life go by. He was happy to join in with the other kids. They continued to let him go and do what ever he felt up to. He got dirty and sweaty with his friends, He would hang out with the kids on Friday nights at the high school games. He would eat junk food, laugh at stupid jokes, and talk to anyone that would listen to him.

In the last few days, we could tell he was not feeling well. He had to push himself just to make it from class to class. Sometimes others would walk with him to make sure he was OK. He made many trips to my room for Tylenol for head aches, and his speech was slurred, But even with all of this, he would never a slow down or complain.

I feel that Nic knew the end was near and that he did not want to stop and waste one moment by being sick. He was a fighter. A fighter that won the battle. He won against the illness because he chose to spend his time living life to the fullest, being ill wasn't the focus. When it was time to go, he did it his way. No excitement, no long drawn out suffering, no panic, just peacefully, quietly, calmly, and with dignity. The way he lived.

After visiting with the family last night, I went home to think about what I was going to say today. There was a magazine on my kitchen table. I picked it up and saw that the corner of a page was folded down. When I opened the book to this page, I found a poem that I felt was appropriate for today. I would like to close by reading this poem.

If Tears Could Build A Stairway

If tears could build a stairway
And memories were a lane
We would walk right up to heaven
And bring you back again

No farewell words were spoken
Not time to say goodbye
You were gone before we knew it
And only God knows why

Our hearts still ache in sadness
And secret tears still flow
What it meant to lose you
No one can ever know

But now we know you want us
To mourn for you no more
To remember all the happy times
Life still has much in store

Since you'll never be forgotten
We pledge to you today
A hallowed place within our hearts
Is where you'll always stay.