Cool poem shared at parent night at school

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 and music and art;
One a parent 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 his side
and polished and smoothed it oer.

And when at last their task was done,
they stood proud of what they had wrought.
For things they had molded into the child
could neither be sold or 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.