光圈和快门速度，也可以叫作传承。仁波切学到摄影这门功课时，给它用了这么个郑重的词。机器上一点点的分别，忽然有了师承的声势。

Getting transmission of f stop and shutter speed。二〇一五年四月，他把这份学习说得煞有介事。

佛像前，两位穿长袍的人一高一低站着。一人低头看手中的相机，肩带垂下来。再大的像在旁边，这一刻的小问题，仍在手里。

讲传承的人，也给光圈留了一个位置。到了快门这里，照样有东西可学。

但有些功课，要把一屋子人放在一起。窗边围着桌椅，深红的僧衣间露出一张张脸；有人站着说，坐着的人朝那边看。

二〇一五年五月，仁波切惦记的问题是：Learning to make others learn。学怎样让别人学。教这件事，原来也还在学习里面。

白纸固定在板子上，一个人拿着话筒，另一个人指向纸面。台下的人得看，台上的人得说明白。How to learn，他问。

他的另一个说法，把这间屋子里的关系点出来：学习是人与人一起做的事。指一指，问一问，换个人再讲，功课便不只在一张纸上。

拿着讲稿的人站在屏幕旁，低头看纸，再向前看。仁波切给这一刻的鼓励是Big leaps。跃进。站着把一页话讲出去，也值得这样大的两个字。

教师的脸也在功课里。讲者一手拿话筒，一手托起一个彩色的小东西；仁波切说到教师的表情，又添上Mask。面具。平常端着的脸，忽然也成了可以拿出来琢磨的东西。

到笑起来的时候，屋子便松快了。有人仰起头，有人弯下身，眼镜后面的眼睛眯着；桌上的水瓶还站得端端正正。

仁波切把这也算进学习：Learning to lough。连笑都有它的一课。

先前是人围着桌子听，现在是笑容从一张脸接到另一张脸。一本正经的工作做到这里，也没有少掉什么。

面前坐满孩子时，他又说自己在教他们Wilde和淘气的东西。名字放在前头，淘气跟在后面，这位老师先把严肃的架子挪开了一点。

孩子们坐得密密的，一排接着一排，衣服的颜色在树下铺开。讲的人在近处，远一点还有人，越过人头才看得到后面的篷子。

他也替一种快乐的学习招呼过人。二〇一六年，为菩提迦耶的儿童与青少年活动，他用了Learning这个题目。活动的邀约里，课本、老师、教室，三样都可以先放下。

功课的地方因此宽了些。孩子可以不只坐在桌前，学习也可以先有一点快乐。

看舞的时候，他又把孩子想起来。舞者戴着金色头饰，手臂伸出去，手腕转过来，眼睛随着姿势换一个方向。指尖那么小的地方，也有规矩。

This is what kids should be learning。这才是孩子们该学的。二〇一七年七月，他把这份赞赏说得很直接。

舞者的手又换了一个姿势。该伸的伸开，该弯的弯着；一句话还没有出口，身体已经做了许多功课。

Aperture and shutter speed can be a transmission too. When Rinpoche speaks of learning them, he chooses that solemn word. The small distinctions of a camera suddenly have the standing of a lineage.

“Getting transmission of f stop and shutter speed”. In April 2015, he gives the lesson this ceremonious description.

Before the statues, two robed figures stand at different levels. One looks down at the camera in his hands, its strap hanging below. For all the size of the statues nearby, the small matter at hand remains in his hands.

Someone who speaks of transmissions has made room for aperture as well. There is still something to learn when it comes to the shutter.

Some lessons need a roomful of people. Tables and chairs gather by the windows, faces rising above dark red robes. Someone stands to speak; those seated turn towards the speaker.

In May 2015, Rinpoche’s concern is “Learning to make others learn”. Teaching, it turns out, has not put anyone beyond learning.

A white sheet is fixed to a board. One person holds a microphone; another points to the paper. Those listening need to see, and those presenting need to make themselves understood. “How to learn”, he asks.

Another of his remarks gives the room its social shape: learning is something done together. Pointing, asking, letting someone else speak—the lesson extends beyond the sheet of paper.

A speaker stands beside a screen with a sheet of notes, looking down, then ahead. Rinpoche’s encouragement for this moment is “Big leaps”. Standing up to deliver a page of words can earn a phrase that large.

A teacher’s face belongs in the lesson too. A speaker holds a microphone in one hand and a small coloured object in the other. Rinpoche mentions teachers’ expressions, then adds “Mask”. The face normally presented to a class has become something to consider in its own right.

When the laughter comes, the room loosens. One person tilts his head back, another bends forward, eyes narrowing behind spectacles. The water bottles on the tables remain perfectly upright.

Rinpoche includes this in the curriculum: “Learning to lough”. Laughter has a lesson of its own.

Earlier, people gathered around tables to listen. Now smiles pass from face to face. The serious work has lost nothing in the process.

With a crowd of children before him, he says he is teaching them “Wilde and naughty things”. The name comes first, the naughtiness after it. This teacher has shifted the solemn furniture a little.

The children sit close, row after row, their clothes spreading colour beneath the trees. The speaker is near; beyond him are more faces, and only above the heads can the canopy at the back be seen.

He has also invited attention to learning through joy. In 2016, he introduces a children’s and young people’s programme in Bodh Gaya under the word “Learning”. Its invitation proposes setting aside textbooks, teachers and classrooms.

The space for a lesson grows wider. A child need not only sit at a desk; learning may begin with a little joy.

Watching a dancer, he thinks of children again. Beneath a golden headdress, the dancer extends an arm, turns a wrist, and shifts her gaze with the pose. Even the small space at the fingertips has its discipline.

“This is what kids should be learning”. In July 2017, he states his appreciation directly.

The dancer’s hands change position again. Some fingers extend, others curve. Before a word has been spoken, the body has already done a great deal of learning.