Sweet tutors, I pray you listen very carefully to my son, as well as laying down advice. The advice being hope and color of speech, the outline of thought-formations, the spontaneity of gentle conversation. The early light that floats through your February windows should be enough to get a handle on words. The singing being learning. He will take up books of thought, pages of pearly childish wonder, and he will turn to special charms published in the confiding and listening air.
Meditation is the bookmark.
Enter laughing, that's how he'll come into the classroom. I hope he will come in that way. Missing your mother more than your heavenly face gives fair expression to. Others than Mummy lean at your thoughts and elbows. Sentences of quizzical greeting will sail out to blurry tall strangers.