“I’m probably going to be your worst student.”
I hear some version of that almost every time a new adult walks into one of my knitting or crochet classes.
Sometimes it’s, “I’ve never been good at crafts.”
Sometimes it’s, “I’m not creative.”
Sometimes it’s, “Please be patient with me.”
What I almost never hear is confidence.
Now here’s something interesting.
Children don’t walk into a room and apologize for not knowing how to do something.
Adults do.
Why?
Over the years I’ve realized it has very little to do with knitting or crochet. It has everything to do with how we’ve been taught to think.
Children have what I call “child brain.”
They are naturally curious. They climb trees because climbing looks fun. They color outside the lines because they’re exploring. They build towers just to knock them over.
Making mistakes isn’t failure to them. It’s simply part of playing.
Adults have what I call “adult brain.”
We’ve spent decades being graded.
We were taught there were right answers and wrong answers.
At work, mistakes can cost money, and getting something wrong can feel embarrassing.
So when adults sit down with a pair of knitting needles or a crochet hook, they aren’t just learning a craft.
They’re carrying years of pressure to get it right.
But here’s the funny thing.
What exactly is “right?”
In knitting alone, I regularly teach English style because it’s the most natural for me. But I also knit Continental. I’ve learned Portuguese knitting. I’ve learned Norwegian knitting. I’ve even used a knitting belt and long straight needles tucked under my arm because those methods worked better in certain situations.
Which one is correct?
They all are.
The right way is the one that helps you create the fabric you want to make.
That’s why I spend so much time teaching the person sitting in front of me instead of insisting everyone learn exactly the way I do.
My job isn’t to create another version of me.
My job is to help someone become the best version of themselves.
That means sometimes we change the tool.
Sometimes we change the technique.
Sometimes we change how the yarn is held.
Sometimes we even change the expectation.
One of my favorite sayings in class is:
“When in doubt, rip it out.”
People usually laugh the first time they hear me say it.
But I’m serious.
If you don’t like what you’re making now, it isn’t magically going to get better by pretending the mistake isn’t there.
Rip it out.
Learn from it.
Do it again.
In fact, I’d go one step further.
Wrong has to happen before right gets learned.
Every single beginner who takes one of my classes experiences this on the very first day. We work through the first couple of rows together. They smile because they did it. Then I tell them to pull it all out and do it again.
The look I get is priceless. They usually stare at me like I’ve suddenly grown two heads.
“You want me to do WHAT?”
Yes, I do.
Because those first few rows aren’t about making something beautiful. They’re about teaching your hands what to do. If I let you keep going, you’ll spend the rest of the project fighting skills that were never really learned.
When you rip it out and start again, something amazing happens.
The second time is easier.
The fear starts to fade.
Confidence begins to replace perfection.
Every experienced knitter and crocheter you admire has ripped out projects. Most of us have ripped out entire sweaters, shawls, or blankets after hours of work. The difference isn’t that experienced makers avoid mistakes. The difference is we’ve learned they are simply part of the process.
Maybe that’s why I love teaching adults.
It’s not because I’m teaching yarn.
It’s because I get to watch someone remember what it feels like to be curious again.
To try again.
To laugh at a mistake instead of fearing it.
To discover that learning isn’t about getting everything right the first time.
It’s about becoming someone who isn’t afraid to try.
So if you’re thinking about learning to knit or crochet and you’re worried you’ll make mistakes…
Good.
That means you’re learning.
And if you end up in one of my classes, don’t worry.
We’ll fix the stitches.
More importantly…
We’ll work on quieting that little voice that says you have to be perfect.
Because you don’t.
You just have to begin.
About A String Thing
At A String Thing, I believe anyone can learn to knit or crochet. Every student learns differently, and that’s exactly how it should be.
Whether you’ve never picked up a pair of needles, struggled to learn from online videos, or convinced yourself you’re “just not crafty,” I’d love to help you discover what works for you.
Because there isn’t just one right way to learn.
There’s your way. Let’s discover it together.
Anyone. Anytime. Anywhere.