I don’t know what you’re 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 don’t 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. You’d think this would be common knowledge (and if you’re 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 ‘how to knit’ book, odds are good you were looking at a slighshot. It’s not that it’s impossible to learn - even from books - simply that it’s hard to draw and, if you’ve been doing it a long time, a major source of ‘knitter’s syndrome’ (also called ‘swimmer’s syndrome’) where you’ve been doing something so long it’s instinctive and you don’t 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. It’s the only book I’ve ever found that did and I sold rather a large number of them.
Needless to say I wasn’t 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, there’s a much better way to do that! Let me show you!
Me: ... ... ... *hands over needles and yarn because I’m not far in, so let’s just get this over with*
Them: *rips out what I’ve done and whips through a slingshot cast on faster than a striking snake* See? Much faster!
Me: Mmmhmmm. *watches them leave, rips out what they’ve done, and goes back to what I was doing*
It didn’t happen often enough for me to start saying “No thanks, I know what a slingshot cast on is” (and probably receive confused looks ‘cause I’m pretty sure half of them didn’t even know what the cast on was called), but it happened enough for me to start thinking “Next time, I am going to say something and not worry about being snarky.”
Because here’s the thing. It’s not even that I had no idea what they’d just done because they were going too damn fast. The thing that bugged me is that they started off saying their way was “better” and ended by saying it was “faster” every. Stinking. Time.
Speed is not the only virtue. I gave myself chronic tendonitis when I was twenty two. It doesn’t 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 I’ve 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.
I’m 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 you’re doing it, then by all means - sling away! It is, inarguable, a faster cast on. However, if you’ve tried to learn to knit five times and just can’t 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 - “You did that? The stitches are so even!”
Do not tell me your way is better if you don’t know what I’m even doing or what criteria I value.
