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Unity

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 she used were books and music and art.

One was a parent with a guiding hand, and a gentle, loving heart.

Day after day the teacher toiled with a touch that was deft and sure.

While the parent labored by her side and polished and smoothed it over.

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 she would have failed if she had worked alone.

For behind the parent stood the school, and behind the teacher stood the home.

--Author Unknown

 
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