My teachers think I'm average,
my parents think so too.
I wish I didn't know that
cause there's lots I'd like to do.

I would like to build a rocket
I have a book that tells you how,
or start a stamp collection
well no use in trying now.

Cause since I found I'm average
I'm just smart enough you see
to know there is nothing special
that I should expect of me.

I am part of the majority,
that hump part of the bell,
who spends his life unnoticed
in an average kind of hell.

Mike Buscemi

                    Unity Poem

          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 that were used were
            books, music, and art.
             One was a parent
     with a guiding hand and a gentle, loving heart

         Day after day the teacher toiled
       with a touch that was deft and sure,
       While the parent labored side by side
        and polished and smoothed it o'er.

        And when at last the task was done
     They were proud of what they had wrought.
     For the things they had molded into the child,
            Could never be forgot.

       And they agreed each would have failed
          If either had worked alone.
       For behind the parent stood the school,
        and behind the teacher, the home.

              Author Unknown