Today I am grateful for teaching crochet. And I’m exhausted. I feel like I ran twelve miles. I might need a nap.
At Christmas I bought a skein of yarn and a large crochet hook for two granddaughters of our friends David & Terry. The house was in full melee when they opened their gifts so a few weeks later I contacted their parents and told them my intent was to teach the girls how to crochet. They had their first lesson today and they both followed instructions very well. Oh sure, they made the expected beginner blunders like pulling the yarn too tight or not tight enough and grabbing the yarn from the wrong side, but for the most part they did great.
When you’ve been doing something for a billion years, you don’t realize how much you don’t even think about it while you’re doing it. That’s me and crochet. I didn’t learn from my grandma or my mom or my sister. I learned from a bunch of women I worked with when I was a hairdresser. We were rookies and not completely booked with customers, so there was a lot of down time. Our break-room was a sea of handiwork projects. I fumbled at knitting, but crochet seemed like second nature to me.
Until today. When I had to explain and instruct. Wow. It never occurred to me how difficult it is to make a simple one-handed slip knot, or how clumsy it feels to hold the yarn with just the right tension. Watching the poor girls fumble as they worked through figuring it out was painful. Listening to me try and adjust them was worse. I felt like I wasn’t even speaking English.
They did way better than I thought they would. Most kids flip the yarn on the floor and go do something else after ten minutes. We sat for an hour and a half and I have no idea what happened to the time.
I don’t know if they’ll want to continue to learn, but even if they don’t, it gave them a new appreciation for the craft. I am grateful I could teach them crochet basics, wherever it leads. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ