We who with songs beguile your pilgrimage / And swear that Beauty lives though lilies die, / We Poets of the proud old lineage / Who sing to find your hearts, we know not why ... (James Elroy Flecker)

3.8.19

I Don't Sew [Prose]




I Don’t Sew


It didn’t come naturally. Girls at my High School had to learn it (and cooking) in first year; boys woodwork. Aptitude was not a criterion. 

My stitches were large, uneven, crooked, sometimes stained (inky fingers).

I was always in trouble, having to unpick and do things over. It took ages of homework time. My parents were concerned; it took time from academic studies.

Mum sat down with me one night, said, ‘Watch me,’ and very slowly did the first four stitches of my homework hem on a square of cotton meant for a handkerchief. I had brought the same thing home night after night to unpick and repeat. 

She explained how she inserted the needle close to the edge of the hem, made the stitch tiny, kept them the same distance apart, slanted them in the same direction. I went all the rest of the way along the hem, using her first four as a guide. It was painstakingly slow.

Next day, I showed the sewing teacher.  

‘YOU did this all by yourself?’

‘Mummy helped me,’ I admitted. She erupted, holding up my work.

‘ “Mummy helped me”! Mummy did it! You cheated.’ She took scissors and ripped the threads. ‘Bring it back tomorrow as YOUR work. Go and stand in the corner the rest of the lesson.’

My parents, agog to hear how my beautiful stitches had been received, were furious. 

‘I did four! She worked so hard!’

Did they make a complaint? The teacher ignored me thereafter. Next year I dropped Domestic Science, no longer compulsory.

When my own kids were little I bought a sewing machine. I made clothes for them, their Dad, myself. But the imperfections looked large; I gave up. Later I hand-sewed a caftan for myself and enjoyed the meditative, slow stitching. But it took time away from writing: I gave up again. 

No, I don’t sew.


Written for Poets United's 'Telling Tales with Magaly Guerrero: a Pantry of Prose' #6 ~ Stitches. This is the exact word limit of 313 words (without title).

22 comments:

  1. The reaction of that terrible woman makes me so angry. Some teachers shouldn't be, they are just not good at it. What sort of animal does that?

    There is much wisdom in working hard (on the things we love). If an activity leaves us empty and frustrated, then we might as well move on (and find some ink).

    I wouldn't sew either.

    I so love this one, Rosemary.

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  2. Wow, your story brings back childhood memories. Teachers were cruel sometimes, and God forbid if a parent went to plead your case. So, I relate to your teacher's behaviour a lot. Luckily, I didn't learn to sew at school only at home, and later on I realised that I actually love sewing. But I'd seen my friends, who took up needlework at school, sometimes running out of the classroom crying.

    A lovely write, Rosemary. I enjoyed your story!

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  3. I enjoyed your autobiographical anecdote, Rosemary. I was one of those girls who tried hard but could never quite get sewing right, although I made my own bedroom curtains on my grandmother’s sewing machine, and I can darn and sew on buttons. But, like you, it didn’t come naturally. I remember the large, uneven, crooked stiches, sometimes stained with ink! As I went to grammar school, we didn’t have domestic science, only academic subjects, so it was down to my grandmother to continue what had been started at junior school. However, I did take to embroidery for a while; I loved making pictures with coloured thread, rather like poetry.

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    1. Oh, yes, I can darn (though no longer do) and I sew on buttons and do small mendings.
      My Mum did beautiful embroidery; I still have some of it.

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  4. Was it wrong I was overcome with a fierce impulse to slap that teacher? Geez. Great way to try to stamp out a kid's natural desire to learn. Teaching styles seem to have evolved since then, thank goodness.

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  5. Sounds like me and Woodwork! The school in England I attended was a Grammar school but the County supervising decided boys should do woodwork and girls Cookery at another school. Clearly I wasn't suited to the craft and it was the only school teacher ever to cane me!

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    1. Some people say teachers are (required to be) too lenient now – but I am glad caning has been abolished.

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  6. Such a pity that a bad teacher can knock people down and don't encourage them. A wonderful story

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  7. Don't know how a teacher could be this unfeeling and unfair! So wrong of her to discourage a child like this. Really felt for the poor child.

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  8. It's a good thing that teacher wasn't teaching poetry. :)

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    1. I started writing that when I was 7. It was from my soul, and my parents were thrilled that I was doing it – so I don't think any teacher could have killed that for me. But it can be good to acquire additional skills outside one's vocation, too.

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  9. I drove my Home Ec teacher mad. I could not sew. Sewing machines went into cardiac arrest when i went near them. I was the class clown and she did not find me funny. This story took me back.

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    1. My sewing machine didn't experience full cardiac arrest, but it certainly had some hiccups,. nervous tics and conniptions!

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  10. I applied for and received permission to take Shop/Woodworking. I hated sewing. The teacher reminds me of one I had a contretemps with in 10th grade. My mother went to the school and told the teacher that if she continued to put me down, she would beat the crap out of her in the school parking lot. Teachers like that need to be put into prison and never allowed to see the light of day. To this day I still can't sew, knit, crochet, quilt, embroider, etc. Such a wonderful story of how your mother stood up for you.

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  11. This made me sad and angry but also happy that you put your energies into writing. You may not sew Rosemary, but you are a true poet that can write us the tale beautifully! Shame on that teacher though!

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    1. When all's said and done, I'd much rather have the poetry. :)

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  12. I LOVE THIS STORY! When you read mine, you'll see why.

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  13. A powerful story. That teacher was quite a useless one, devoid of compassion. Sadly, there are teachers like that that snuff out a dream and a future. You told this well.

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  14. I so related to this. Girls (never boys) HAD to take Home Economics in Grades 7 ad 8 (sewing, cooking, house hold budgeting, etc.). The classes were rather gruelling, as I recall: the teacher seemed to think we didn't take it seriously enough and was hell-bent on sucking every bit of pleasure and fun out of the class. But I did sew … mostly short-term items like maturity tops and children's play clothes and Hallowe'en costumes. Often I sewed into the wee small hours of the night when the kids were young and I remember luxuriating in that ME time (albeit only available while the rest of the world slept).

    They had cancelled Home Ec by the time my daughter attended school and she occasionally bemoans the fact that she can't sew. Though I tried to show her a couple of times how to use the machine, it hasn't stuck. Virtually all the woman I know who sew, learned how to do it, in a joyless Home Ec class … so I suppose they had a point. But I'm with you, Rosemary … so NOT fun. Wonderful writing in this!

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    1. Thanks, Wendy. A useful accomplishment no doubt, but still it seems a shame it couldn't have been taught with joy.

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