I was hopping mad by the end of the school day. I texted with colleagues, then met with them. I talked to a friend while I drove home (thank goodness for dear friends who live far away so they can’t tell anyone what I *really* think). I expressed myself volubly to my partner. And then it was time for Knit Night.
I set myself up in the basement, which occasionally doubles as my office. I opened the laptop, plugged in the good light and the headphones, found my current knitting project (The Nightshift Shawl – swoon) and settled in.
I don’t know how I got lucky enough to join a group of wildly smart educators who knit while solving the problems of the world, but I did. We meet online for a couple of hours on Tuesdays in the best kind of group: Come when you can; share what you want; no worries if you can’t make it.
We talk about everything. Tonight we talked about funerals and how we love even difficult people. We laughed about Sunday School and premarital sex. We wondered about potential racist implications in phrases that don’t have racist origins. (Can I say “call a spade a spade“? Unclear.) We compared notes about whether or not educators with PhDs use the title “Dr” in our school boards or if they did when we were growing up. And somehow, hilariously, we ended up talking about teaching sex ed to 7th graders, explaining spontaneous erections and periods and suddenly we were bemoaning the influence of porn and some *very* dirty lyrics were posted in the chat and NO, it is emphatically not ok for 4th graders to know those and OH MY.
I will freely admit that I had to pull back the last row I knitted before we logged off; I’m pretty sure it was because I was giggling so hard. Some Knit Nights are tough: we don’t get the job we applied for or cancer treatment has worn someone out. Others are angry: racism and misogyny abound and sometimes we feel helpless. Occasionally (ok, often) we are ridiculously nerdy: after all, we’re basically a group of knitting librarians and English teachers; we’ve read *everything*. Always, always, these night are restorative.
I admit it: nothing is fixed. Tomorrow I will still have to go into work and deal with all the things that happened today. Still, I greet most Wednesdays in a slightly better mood because of a few hours of knitting and laughing. Really, who wouldn’t?