When a child is born,
The parents hope for the best,
Even resort to wishful thinking:

This child shall be a poet, a doctor, a pilot.

No one speculates
That the child shall be a thief
Or a prostitute.

Children are the tried
And the tested,
The elite boys and girls,
The hands always stretching
Towards the dream.

Let us invite a sangoma
To perform rituals,
So that we can study hard,

Or maybe study under sea,
Electric blanket,
Or in a liquor store.
Or is it all about motivation?

For one writer said:
If you motivate a fool
All you will have
Is a motivated fool.