Knitting in Custody

Today's Featured Mitts

Pebbles in the Stream

(Texter/Smoker Fingerless Mittens)

 

 

Knitting Behind Bars 

 

           Michelle, a former colleague of mine, recently sent me an article about men in a Maryland prison learning how to knit (link to article).  The article explains that initially when the knitting instructor, Lynn Zwerling, offered to teach the prisoners how to knit, the burly prisoners were not very interested.  Once started, however, it has become the most popular class in prison.  Over the last two years Zwerling and her associates have taught more than 100 prisoners to knit and there are several names on the waiting list to get into her class.  The men started out making comfort dolls for children being removed from their homes due to domestic issues.  They then moved on to making hats for under-privileged children.  Zwerling believes the men have found the "zen" nature of knitting.  The assistant warden observes that the dynamic within the knitting class is soothing and calm, and that this dynamic goes with the men when they leave knitting class to return to the mainstream of the institution.  When Zwerling was asked in an interview if the men were reluctant knitters, her response was, "They want to knit, they just don't know they want to knit."

 

 

The High School Knitting Club

(Chapter 1)

        This prison article reminded me of a "knitting in custody" experience I had in my career as a high school teacher.  At the suggestion of some of my students who knew I was a knitter, one year I started a noon hour knitting club at our high school.  The club was a moderate success, attracting a diverse group of teens who were interested in learning how to knit and how to drink tea.  (I was known to have the occasional tea party for my various English classes.)

 

        The Knitting Club was rather fluid and relaxed as far as rules, and the students came and went to the weekly meetings.  The closet in my classroom held all the tools necessary for a Knitting Club---needles, yarn, teacups, teapot, teakettle, teabags, the occasional package of cookies.  The Knitting Club was a comfortable place to be and I did actually teach some people how to knit! 

 

 

Knitting in Detention 

(Chapter 2)

       During this period of my career, I was not a fan of detentions as a classroom management tool.  There were times, however, when I was forced to impose detentions to comply with school rules. There came a day when I had to impose detentions on one of my homeroom students, John,  for his repeated tardiness.  I had a good relationship with the young man and he was totally cooperative when I told him he had to come to my classroom at noon hour to serve a detention.  I was not content with him sitting there doing nothing and since he had no schoolwork to do, I gave him a tangled mess of yarn that needed to be untangled and rolled into a ball.  I got him started and I worked at my desk while he quietly finished winding the yarn.  When his period of incarceration was over, I released him back into the halls of the school.  The next day he inquired about joining the knitting club.  I encouraged him, of course, and he came to the next meeting and untangled a few more messes. 

 Knitting and Hockey

(Chapter 3)

           Shortly after this incident, one Saturday morning I was walking through a parking lot near my home when I heard someone calling my name.  I looked up to see John, my detention/homeroom student, about to board a yellow school bus.  "Mrs. Fullerton," he yelled across the parking lot.  "I learned how to cast on last night."

         "Really?" I responded, rather surprised at his enthusiasm.  "Who taught you how to do that?"

         "YouTube," he answered.  This was before YouTube was very popular and it was definitely a new field for this middle-aged knitting teacher.  I was impressed but did not want to scare him off with an over-zealous response.   

          "And I bought some white yarn this morning," he added.  "I'm going to knit my mom a scarf." 

         "That's great, John. And where are you off to today?" I asked. 

         "Playing hockey in Harvey," he replied.  "Gonna knit on the bus.  See ya Monday!"

         "Yeah, see you Monday," I answered as he boarded the bus, hockey bag in one hand, knitting bag in the other.

 

 

 

 

        Until Next Time........

 

 

 

Turnip Tags

 

 

Today's Featured Mittens

Evening in Paris

 

        When I started naming mittens, I used the backs of old cards to make labels.  After all, recycling and being cheap is part of my "philosophy". I cut the card backs into star shapes, labeled them and tied them to my mittens.  Example below---"Rainbow Through the Fundy Fog".

Rainbow Through the Fundy Fog

 

              A few months into the mitten-making craze, I remembered the turnip tags I had recently been given by my sister Kathy during her clean-up of the family homestead woodshed.  She had proudly and sarcastically gifted them to me as part of my inheritance.  The turnip tags carry a great deal of memory and were the perfect size to work as mitten labels. 

Turnip Tags 

 

 Memories on the front.....

Moss Glen

 

 

Mitten names on the back.......

Candy Cane

A Turnip Tag Memory:

 When I was a little girl (how many stories start out with this line?), growing up on a mixed farm, everyone in the family had jobs from a very early age.  Although I do not remember the actual incident because I was only three years old at the time, my subsequent work experiences and memories confirms it as truth.  Family legend has it that I was invited to go to visit my Aunt Gladys and her family for a sleepover.  I was very happy to go to her house to visit as the recent birth of my sister had displaced me as the baby in our house.  When I visited Aunt Gladys' house, I was the baby again.  And there was a houseful of people to dote on me, including her elderly parents-in-law.  On this particular visit, I was only allowed to go if I took my work with me.  My job, at age 3, was to string turnip tags on three foot lengths of baler twine.  We used the tagged twine to sew up the top of 5o pound burlap bags of turnips, one of the vegetables we sold from our farm.  So I took my turnip tags and baler twine and went to Aunt Gladys's house.  Once there, Grandpa Harry, Aunt Gladys' father-in-law, felt sorry for me and did my work for me.  Thank you, Grandpa Harry!

 

 

Until next time.................