Posted on February 27, 2005 at 10:35 pm
I have a question to ask of you.
I have been asked to teach a class in sock knitting.
I am amused by this because it took me four years of college, two years and two Master’s degrees, and seven years of doctoral study (no PhD) and untold thousands of dollars in tuition and lost income from what might have been at least a living wage to qualify me to drive to three different campuses a day to teach 18 year olds how to write a topic sentence.
Sock knitting I taught myself over much the same amount of time and it didn’t cost me much and it didn’t turn my guts to slurry.
But I’ve never taken a class in sock knitting, and I have been working on the outline for a three hour class and I’m happy but a little nervous about . I have a 24st top down sock pattern for worsted with a common heel and wedge toe drafted out and I’ve knit a few of them in under an hour so I trust that students can cover at least that ground in the time I have, plus I’ll have my own collection to show some alternate heel and toe approaches, and a introduction to knitting on two circs at the end. I think that should cover it for a beginning class.
You were so helpful back when my friend was planning the perfect yarn store (a rival beat her to it . . .long story . . . no yarn store) so here’s the question.
What would you want to know about knitting socks that someone short of Nancy Bush or Lucy Neatby could teach you? Am I leaving something essential out? If you’ve never knit socks before, please speak up and tell me if that sounds like too much. If you’ve taken a class to learn to knit socks, what can I avoid or what can I borrow from a good experience you had? I have no problems teaching–that’s what I do. I’m just uncertain about the syllabus. I welcome your advice.
And speaking of socks, my second Fritzy’s approaches the end of the gusset. These are about as close to perfect as any sock I’ve ever knit. It’s all because of the Mountain Colors Bearfoot. It’s the coziest sock yarn I’ve ever used, and the colours remind me of wild blueberry stains (I grew up in New Brunswick; wild blueberries were everywhere. Believe me, I know blueberry stains).
Hey, confession is good for the soul (get it?soul/sole. . .). I just hate knitting gussets. They are boring. They are more boring than picking up stitches for a v-neck cardigan. Knitting a gusset is more boring than casting on 300 stitches for a Shetland sweater in-the-round. Knitting a gusset is more boring than making an eyelash scarf for my Diva child’s teacher because my Diva child insists it’s the perfect Christmas gift even though my Diva child could knit it herself there isn’t enough time left by the Monday before vacation when she finally remembered to ask me if I would, and there was a ball of eyelash in my stash, after all (yes, it’s true, I do have that kind of stash, the kind of stash where it is possible–in spite of my railings against Muppet Pelt scarves now so popular that even Walmart sells them in the lingerie department–to find a ball of eyelash, in black). So if I ever finish this gusset, it will be only by force of will, or because the Oscars go on, as usual, past midnight.