 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 was a parent who worked with a guiding hand and a gentle, loving heart. Day after day, the teacher toiled with a touch deft and sure, while the parent labored by her side to polish and smooth it over. And when at last their task was done, they were proud of what they had wrought. For the things that molded into the child could be neither sold nor bought. And each agreed they would have failed if they had worked along, for behind the teacher stood the school and behind the parent, the home. |
