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 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 her side
And polished and
smoothed it o’er.
And when at last
their task was done,
They were proud of what they’d wrought,
For the things they had molded
into the child
Could neither be
sold nor bought.
And they both agreed
they would have failed
If each had worked alone,
For behind the teacher
stood the school,
And behind the parent,
the home.
--- Author Unknown
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 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 her side
And polished and
smoothed it o’er.
And when at last
their task was done,
They were proud of what they’d wrought,
For the things they had molded
into the child
Could neither be
sold nor bought.
And they both agreed
they would have failed
If each had worked alone,
For behind the teacher
stood the school,
And behind the parent,
the home.
--- Author Unknown
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