Tangled Yarn, Braiding, and the Learning Curve

Brooke and I were fortunate enough to be able to take advantage of a workshop happening at Nasivvik today after school (with another session next Thursday). A local woman came in to teach us how to create the braided belts that Inuit women use around their amautis -- packing parkas with a huge hood in the back in which babies sit and a remarkably popular article of clothing. After a long time untangling yarn that I was trying to spool out (not because it came to me tangled; I am just a good tangle-maker), I finally sat down, watched Geela work, and then set to it, determined to try it out for my own.

Well, that didn't go well. I had to start again, after observing some more and listening to her patient instructions. Alright, I thought, time to go again. We undid my work and I set back to it.

And again.

And again.

The fifth time seems to have helped all of the principles of this craft click into place. Under Geela's watchful eye and under the tutelage of her sure hands, I am slowly figuring out how to make this thing work. It is so humbling to learn something totally new about which I know absolutely nothing from a person who is such an expert. It is an incredibly important experience for an educator to have. Our students so often feel that frustration, the desire to push ahead and try and fail, the I'll never get it!, and then (if we're doing our jobs well) the success when things do click. But, heavens, was it ever frustrating when I had to undo my weaving for that fourth time! And I'm sure I will experience the same mixture of frustration at my own ineptitude and excitement at learning something new when one of the Inuit staff members tries to teach me to make socks during the upcoming PD days.

My mother, an excellent teacher indeed, has always said that she tries to take a class on something entirely new every few years so that she remembers what it's like to dive into a learning process without any familiar footing. Good teachers, she insists, need to experience that feeling to be reminded of what it's like to be in our students' shoes. If we want to be effective, we need to feel in our bones what the learning process is like, in all its ups and downs.

Well, Mum, good call. You're completely right.

So much of my time here has been coming face-to-face with things that I don't know and being okay with not knowing everything. I've learned a lot about asking questions and seeking guidance and, sometimes (often!), laughing off my mistakes and continuing to move forwards.

Progress so far. Fifth attempt.

 On our walk back at the end of the day, we walked by the same fluffy puppy as yesterday, waiting outside the kitchen window and staring in at his boy. When he saw us, he perked right up, yipped a hello, and came over to wiggle around and lick our mitts. But, let me tell you, this pooch knows which side his bread is buttered on. We turned to head off and he scampered right on back to the house to stare back up at his beloved 7-year-old owner, who watched with happy eyes from inside.

Why hello!

Puppy love.