The Language of Knitting

My new work environment is populated by many people – those special types of people – the ones who draw you in and make you feel welcome and comfortable, whether you want to feel welcome and comfortable or not.  Somehow, despite my outwardly antisocial tendencies, they’ve got my number.  They know my game, and they’re not having anything of it.

 

It’s been hella good for me.

 

Most recently, some of these special people got together and organized a new weekly occurrence:  a knitting/crochet group, including a standing offer of lessons for newcomers.

 

The teacher?  Me.  Drawing me in was, I think, their ulterior motive.

 

Now, you know I don’t do small talk.  I don’t watch prime-time TV dramas.  I don’t follow sports.  I don’t even work in the same building as many of these people.  I’m a self-described (and widely acknowledged) misanthrope.  I don’t speak the common social language.

 

But I do speak the language of knitting.  And I am thrilled to teach that language to others.  To spread the disease of obsession.  To foster the creative, meditative environment.  To draw people in, and share the love.

 

So even though I can’t participate in work social events or holiday breakfasts or happy hours, I can at least knit.

 

About fifteen people from the department assembled for lunch yesterday.  Some were established knitters or hookers, some were novices, and some didn’t even have their own yarn or needles yet.  But we all got together.  And I taught.  We passed around extra needles and yarn.  I made pattern handouts, and demonstrated the long-tail cast on.  And the knit stitch.   And I was giddy and excited and cheerful and just grateful to be sharing my language with others.

 

It was really like coming alive.  I love sharing my skills with others.  I love infecting people with the passion for knitting.  I love seeing that flash of understanding.  I love figuring out different ways to explain a concept.  I love mirroring others’ learning and communication styles.  I love the transition from slow, labored progress to fluid competency.  I love teaching.

 

I’ve missed this.  But I’ve also never done anything like it before, either.

 

I could do this.  I really, really could.