"I dreamed I stood in a studio
and watched two sculptors there.
The clay they used was a 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 work 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 ~