Knitting & Tears

My heart. 
The tears.
Touching. Helping.

Oh, to work with our hands!

I hold a large knitting needle
in front of the class.
Demonstrating.
Clarity.
Instruction. Here's how.

​Eyes fixed upon me...
or are they?
Some children can focus
while others look distractedly
at what everyone else is doing.
As if watching the hands of another
child interprets the teacher.

"We're simply holding the needle
like this," I show.
Right hand commanding the
smooth wooden stick.
"And right now your yarn is
hanging like this, with just
one loop on the needle."

Talking.
Hands struggling.
Compliance. Confusion.
And those tears.
Different classes, different
students, different tears. 
Same concern: "I don't know 
what I'm doing."
"And that's why I am 
teaching you," I offer.

The tears of desire and eagerness
and wanting to learn
bursting from confusion,
perceived failure and 
disconnection.

Oh, to work with our hearts!

Leaning in.
Compassionately.
Confident. Assuring.
"We're all learning together.
No hurry. I'm going to hold
the yarn just like this and 
come help you."

And yet the clock tells me 
it's time to end the class.
A mere 45 minutes.
It's only day three. 
We have all year to inch
toward new skills.

A sigh of relief.
A process.
Baby steps. Learning.

"I'll be back on Tuesday and
we will keep learning how 
to cast on your stitches."
I pack up my needles and yarn
and leave with a contented smile.

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