Yesterday, Caelie came home with a poem that had been laminated, has her picture and her handprint on it and at the bottom a note from her teacher. I read the poem and the note and just started crying.
Whose Child Is This?
Author Unknown
"Whose child is this?" I asked one day
Seeing a little one out at play
"Mine", said the parent with a tender smile
"Mine to keep a little while
To bathe his hands and comb his hair
To tell him what he is to wear
To prepare him that he may always be good
And each day do the things he should"
"Whose child is this?" I asked again
As the door opened and someone came in
"Mine", said the teacher with the same tender smile
"Mine, to keep just for a little while
To teach him how to be gentle and kind
To train and direct his dear little mind
To help him live by every rule
And get the best he can from school"
"Whose child is this?" I ask once more
Just as the little one entered the door
"Ours" said the parent and the teacher as they smiled
And each took the hand of the little child
"Ours to love and train together
Ours this blessed task forever."
Parents-
Thank you for letting me work with your child this year. You have a wonderful daughter.
Mrs. *******
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"I finally took my head out of the sand and freed up my nostrils and filled them with good, clean air, and that good clean air was called Doing Something for Someone Else." -Norma Jean McKeldin, diagnosed age 39 Online Users My Other Blogs Disclosure Policy This Month
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Inner Ramblings of My Mind - Tue 05 Aug 2008 07:08 AM EDT
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Whose Child Is This?
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