I dreamed I stood in a studio and watched two
sculptors there.
The clay they used was a young child's mind, and
they fashioned it with care.
One was a teacher; the tools he used were books
and music and art;
One a parent with a guiding hand, and a gentle,
loving heart.
Day after day the teacher toiled, with touch that
was deft and sure;
While the parent labored by his side and polished
and smoothed it o'er.
And when at last their task was done, they were
proud of what they had wrought,
For the things they had molded into the child could
neither be sold nor bought.
And each agreed he would have failed if he had
worked alone,
For behind the parent stood the school, and behind
the teacher - the home.
Author Unknown
