the Village Knittiot

Yesterday was my first session of Lunch Hour Knitting Lessons. I was honestly surprised at how many people came. Nearly all the women in my office crammed themselves into our little conference room. And looking arund the room and seeing no men made my heart a little sad. The one guy who said he was definitely interested (this after I explained that he could easily make the raglan rolled-neck sweater himself that he had just bought at The Gap) was working under a deadline, but he intends to come next week. So at least there is that.

The whole affair was incredibly interesting. Quite a few of the women took what I described to my friend Kari as the Barbie Approach. Anyone else remember the whole Barbie talking debacle in which one of the asinine things to come out of her empty little shell was “Math is hard!”? Well, there were many cries of, “Knitting is hard!” “I’m not coordinated enough.” “I’m not patient enough.” “I can’t do this.” “I’m going to stick with (or go back to) crocheting.” A couple of them got it right out of the gate. But you could tell immediately who amongst those sitting there would make a novelty scarf or two and then quit and the few for whom knitting would become a meditation that they carried with them for the rest of their lives. I have one or two true believers in a class of 10. Once I get our male coworker in there, I suspect he is going to be my star.

Standing up in front of them trying to cover the knitting landscape as it is today with extremely broad strokes (and in less than 5 minutes so we could get on to the actual knitting), I was acutely aware of my tendency to gush (Oh, and the faint remainder of that Midwestern smudge in which the path to a commanding presence is self-diminishment — got over that in about two seconds). As I talked, I found myself looking for that one person with a hint of hunger in their eye. You know what I mean, the one who sits sponge-like waiting to absorb every morsel of information. The one whose fingers twitch slightly as they clutch their yarn. The one who looks as if they are hugging a sheep in their mind. The one around whom all the pattern books get piled up. But even though people really seemed to enjoy themselves and everyone made a point to stop by my office afterward and thank me and say how fun it was, that person wasn’t there. I suppose it is possible that the kind of love I am talking about requires a slow ramp up, but somehow I doubt it. You have a love for handwork or you don’t. I guess only time will demonstrate if I am right about this.

With only an hour, we barely made it beyond casting on, which proved to be quite a challenge for people. I had (and do everytime I teach someone new to knit) forgotten how very difficult this is for people. I used the very simple double / long tail cast on (that I taught myself from a book when I began knitting). But it was this more than anything that proved a stumbling block. In the end most people managed to get a few loops on the needles, but after just starting on the knit stitch (which was much easier for people), it was already time to go back to work.

Thanks to an early on reading of Elizabeth Zimmerman’s Knitting Without Tears, I am a firm and committed Continental Knitter (even though I learned to knit holding my yarn with my right hand). I started out teaching them to hold their yarn like I do, but after realizing how they are having such a tricky time with getting going, I thought I ought to at least give them the option of holding it in their right. So I touched on it, but we’ll have to get into it more today. For the brave souls who want to return, we continue today…

Things I learned yesterday. People really have this strongly formed impression that knitting is difficult. Once upon a time absolutely everyone learned how to knit from mothers and grandmothers, sometimes at a very young age. Now you would think we are asking them to split atoms or something. Also, learning how to knit requires a certain adventurous spirit and a willingness to make mistakes. I think what slowed down several of the women was a fear of not doing it “right.” There was one person who just went with it. And she had cast on 30 or so stitches in no time. When we looked at her progress, I realized that there had been a slight error and that it wasn’t going to work. So, she slid it off and went right to work again. I like this kind of try-it-and-see attitude. Another woman half-heartedly tried a couple and then would throw the needle down on the table and say, “Oh! I’m never going to get this! I’m just not coordinated enough.” I wanted to just snatch those needles up off the table and say, “You’re right. You should just quit now. You know, after two seconds of ‘trying’.” But I suspect that she is one of those people who has been told she is not very bright her whole life and now she pretty much believes it. Call me idealistic, call me naive, but I think knitting can change that. Or at the very least be one small catalyst for change.

This entry was posted on Thursday, October 27th, 2005 at 6:07 am and is filed under this Knittiot Life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.