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 a parent
labored by their 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 he
would have failed
if he had worked
alone.
For behind the
parent stood the school,
And behind the
teacher, the home.
(author unknown)