In Teaching Your Child, Do Not Forget

Occasionally There Is A Moment In A Person's Life When He Takes A Great Stride Forward In Wisdom, Humility, Or Disillusionment. For A Split Second He Comes Into A Kind Of Cosmic Understanding. For A Trembling Breath Of Time He Knows All There Is To Know. He Is Loaned The Gift The Poet Yearned For - Seeing Himself As Others See Him.

Francie Was Ten Years Old When She First Found An Outlet In Writing. What She Wrote Was Of Little Consequence. What Was Important Was That The Attempt To Write Stories Kept Her Straight On The Dividing Line Between Truth And Fiction. If She Had Not Found This Outlet In Writing, She Might Have Grown Up To Be A Tremendous Liar.

But This Tree In The Yard-this Tree That Men Chopped Down...this Tree That They Built A Bonfire Around, Trying To Burn Up It's Stump-this Tree Lived! It Lived! And Nothing Could Destroy It.

She Was Surprised At How Tiny It Seemed Now. She Supposed The School Was Just As Big As It Had Ever Been Only Her Eyes Had Grown Used To Looking At Bigger Things.

She Had Heard Papa Sing So Many Songs About The Heart; The Heart That Was Breaking - Was Aching - Was Dancing -was Heavy Laden - That Leaped For Joy - That Was Heavy In Sorrow - That Turned Over - That Stood Still. She Really Believed The Heart Actually Did Those Things.