Working in the Wonder Studio: Crochet Student

One of the chief reasons that I created Wonder Studio at my school ten years ago was for children to express themselves creatively without adult interference. I wanted kids to experience the craft of learning, including the frustration of failure and the exultation of triumph. Without struggle, learning cannot take place. That productive struggle is what learning is all about, and nothing sets up a learning atmosphere like Wonder Studio. Kids are building, sewing, sawing, painting, making a merry mess, and learning, learning, learning. Their confidence grows, and they are growing their resilience muscles.

To make sure that I never forget the struggle of learning, I frequently take on projects that require me to stretch my beginner’s mind. I remember long ago, when I taught 2nd grade, I enrolled in a Saturday drawing class at Parsons School of Design in New York City. I was decent at drawing representationally, but not as skilled as I wanted to be, so I looked forward to taking a real grown-up artist class. The first Saturday, I went by train into the city with my artist bag packed with all my artist supplies. I felt like a real art student. Then I arrived at the huge studio room, set up my materials, and listened to the professor. He expected us to draw for three hours. Yes, three hours straight. I looked around, and all the young adults in my class got busy and were focused. I was about thirty-five at the time and feeling old. I also found that I could not sit still. I found myself getting up to sharpen my pencil, to go to the bathroom, to walk down the hallway to get a drink of water. I looked around at what people were drawing, and I looked at my paper and frowned. I tried to adjust, to sit still, to concentrate. I felt like one of my 2nd grade students. I realized what I was expecting them to do, and knew that I needed to break down their learning into small, manageable parts. I needed to find ways to motivate and engage them, and I had to get them moving every so often. Learning something new always made me a better teacher, so I made sure that I stepped out of my comfort zone several times a year. This practice kept me honest.

Last week, a small group of 5th graders decided they were going to teach me to crochet. I bought crochet hooks and yarn, and tried to remember this skill that I had learned in high school. High school was a very long time ago for me. I remembered nothing. I realized my hands aren’t as dexterous as they once were. This crochet adventure was going to be an uphill climb. I needed a good teacher. I got three teachers: M, R, and E. M was very enthusiastic. She showed me how she crocheted, and her fingers moved with precision and speed. “Do this,” M commanded. As a dutiful student, I tried to follow M’s lead. I groaned. My fingers could not do what M’s fingers were magically doing. I asked M to slow down. She tried again. She quickly crocheted, hooking her yarn again and again and again. “What are you doing?” I asked. “Please slow down.” M became frustrated and began to concentrate on her own project.

In stepped R. She showed me how to make a slip knot, then she carefully showed me how to hook the yarn and pull it through. R. broke everything down into small steps. She slowed down. She repeated what she wanted me to do. My fingers started to respond. My mind slowed down, and I began to learn how to make a simple chain stitch. “You are a good teacher, R,” I said. I think I’ve got this now. “Just keep practicing the chain for a while. Then I’ll show you single crochet.” R said reassuringly. As I practiced, E watched me and cheered me on. “You are doing a good job. Keep going. Don’t pull too tight. Make it loosen up. That’s right,” she coached. It was E’s encouragement that kept me going.

As I reflected on my process of learning to crochet, I realized I needed all these teachers to help me gain and sustain this skill. One was modeling the endpoint, one was patient and broke the process into small steps, and the third was building my confidence, giving me steady encouragement.

When I returned for my second lesson, M taught me to single crochet. I think she learned from her first teaching experience, and this time she sat by my side and slowed down. Each step was now accompanied with a verbal command that I could remember: “Go through the river, into the mountain, out of the tunnel, and through the river again. When I asked her who taught her that, she said that she thought it up all by herself to help me. Now, that’s a dedicated teacher! My goal is to make granny squares all summer, and then my teachers will return in September to help me assemble them. M told me that I should send her photos of my progress over the summer. “That way you have to stay accountable,” she said knowingly.

This afternoon, as I was walking down the hall, a 4th grader stopped me and asked if I had learned to crochet. “Yes, I did,” I said proudly. She said, “Oh, good, now you can teach me.” Now, isn’t that the way learning grows? If it wasn’t for the Wonder Studio, I wouldn’t have had the experience of being both teacher and learner.