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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.
And when, at last, their work was done
they were proud of what they had wrought.
For the things they had worked into the
child could never be sold or 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.
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