The Sculptor in every Parent, Teacher, Guardian,Love-Giver
0 comments Posted by Malaybalay Blogger at 6:56 AM Malaybalayan ponders on the following nuggets:
Many a time, golden moments pass us by. Sometimes, it is caused by the pain that life accords to anyone. When the opportunity comes along and you become a parent, a teacher or a love-giver, the real drama presents itself. There are no retakes and when the error is not taken care of immediately, it might mean a lost soul.
So goes the poem, The Sculptor. You meet a child or a pupil or a student. You do your best to educate the learner. You have to accept, at the outset, that you can only do so much. So you do what you can and the rest you offer to the Creator. Years pass by and of the kids whom you care for, some come back to say thanks for caring enough while others never come at all to say anything.
For parents however, there is a different touch that only parents offer. They love without any "buts" and "ifs". They form their children with a love that only parents are gifted with. They mold with tender loving care. They persist where others have given up.
What is significant is when the child grows to find his place in society and is now going to continue life's calling: that of taking care of his own child.
Labels: Creator, lost soul, nuggets, poem, ponders, society, tender loving care, The Sculptor
If there is anything this Teacher learned from her fellow bloggers, it is to have as many followers. This blogspot is envisioned as the niche of teachers. So, fellow mentors, anyone?
How does Teacher plan to go about this nook? Only Providence can tell but expect poems, stories and anecdotes that are written by teachers or are about teachers.
I took a piece of plastic clay
And idly fashioned it, one day,
And as my fingers pressed it, still
It moved and yielded to my will.
I came again, when days were passed
That bit of clay was hard at last,
The form I gave it, still it bore
And I could change that form no more.
Then I took a piece of living clay
And gently formed it day by day,
And molded with my power and art
A young child's soft and yielding heart.
I came again when years were gone,
It was a man I looked upon,
He still that impress bore,
And I could change it nevermore.
