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 he used
were books, music, and art.
One, a parent, who worked with a guiding
hand and a gentle heart.
Day after day the teacher toiled,
With touch that was deft and sure,
While the parent labored by his 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 a child,
Could neither be sold or bought.
And each agreed that he would have failed
If he had worked alone.
For behind the teacher stood the school,
And behind the parent, the home.
I found this poem as I just cleaned out my progress report folder. I usually save it to share with my parents in June to thank them for being my partner. Today I thought maybe my teacher friends needed to read it. It's a busy time of year with progress reports, parent teacher conferences, and trying to stay afloat with the day to day demands and planning. Have a restful weekend, my friends.
Poetry Friday is hosted this week by Ed at Think, Kid Think.