Two Sculptors

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, music and art.

One, a parent who worked 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 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 teacher stood the school and behind the parent, the home.