I donât know what youâre doing, but I can do it better
I learned to knit because I sort Hufflepuff. Not because knitting is one of those lame things that lame-o Hufflepuffs do, but because I am crafty and I look bad in yellow. I look bad in a nice yellow, forget the mustard-gold they use in the official merch. So I set out to make myself a PoA style scarf that was black with thin yellow stripes.
I learned. Not only did I learn how to knit my scarf, I learned something that a surprising number of knitters around me donât seem to know: There are multiple ways to cast on. By multiple I mean I can name three off the top of my head (cable, knit, and slingshot) and there are more. Youâd think this would be common knowledge (and if youâre a knitter, you may well already know it!), but most of the people I know are completely baffled by the fact. Even my mother, who taught me, was grown and had been knitting for years before she learned.
Now, in the USA the most common form of cast on is a slingshot cast on. This involves taking one needle and a strand of yarn, twisting the yarn in a mysterious and magical pattern, and looping it onto the needle. If you have ever been completely puzzled by the drawings in a âhow to knitâ book, odds are good you were looking at a slighshot. Itâs not that itâs impossible to learn - even from books - simply that itâs hard to draw and, if youâve been doing it a long time, a major source of âknitterâs syndromeâ (also called âswimmerâs syndromeâ) where youâve been doing something so long itâs instinctive and you donât know how to show other people.
Mum did not teach me a slingshot cast on. She taught me to cable on. When I worked in a craft store, the best book we had (you know, the one with photos rather than cryptic drawings?) taught cabling on. Itâs the only book Iâve ever found that did and I sold rather a large number of them.
Needless to say I wasnât the only knitter in the store. I was the only knitter who cabled on, at least until I taught two other people to knit. This was a source of endless frustration when I tried to start a project in the break room. Every time I did and another knitter walked in, the following conversation ensued:
Them: What are you doing?
Them: Oh, thereâs a much better way to do that! Let me show you!
Me: ... ... ... *hands over needles and yarn because Iâm not far in, so letâs just get this over with*
Them: *rips out what Iâve done and whips through a slingshot cast on faster than a striking snake* See? Much faster!
Me: Mmmhmmm. *watches them leave, rips out what theyâve done, and goes back to what I was doing*
It didnât happen often enough for me to start saying âNo thanks, I know what a slingshot cast on isâ (and probably receive confused looks âcause Iâm pretty sure half of them didnât even know what the cast on was called), but it happened enough for me to start thinking âNext time, I am going to say something and not worry about being snarky.â
Because hereâs the thing. Itâs not even that I had no idea what theyâd just done because they were going too damn fast. The thing that bugged me is that they started off saying their way was âbetterâ and ended by saying it was âfasterâ every. Stinking. Time.
Speed is not the only virtue. I gave myself chronic tendonitis when I was twenty two. It doesnât bug me so often now, but this was all happening when I was twenty five to twenty seven. As far as my wrists were concerned, slower was better. Also, every knitter Iâve ever talked to has held keeping your tension as one of the hardest parts of knitting. The woman who taught Mum to cable on taught her class that cast on because it makes keeping your tension easier. Mum never, ever went back to slingshot.
Iâm not saying that the slingshot cast on is worthless. All things have their uses and if you can do a slingshot and keep your tension well and enjoy the way youâre doing it, then by all means - sling away! It is, inarguable, a faster cast on. However, if youâve tried to learn to knit five times and just canât figure out how to get started or keep your tension, try learning something else.
Remember that scarf I was knitting at the start of all of this? I took it to a family function one year to make up for the fact I was missing Harry Potter day at work by being there. My younger cousin who is also a knitter and helped found a knit and crochet club at his high school saw it and asked - in tones of utter awe - âYou did that? The stitches are so even!â
Do not tell me your way is better if you donât know what Iâm even doing or what criteria I value.