I dreamt I was 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 there work was done
They were proud of what they had wrought
For the things they had worked in to the child
Could never be bought or sold.
And each agreed that she would have failed
If she had worked alone
For behind the parent stood the school
and behind the teacher stood the school.
Ray A. Lingenfelter
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