What Feeds Your Creative Soul?

When was the last time you made something that had absolutely nothing to do with your teaching?

Not a sample for an upcoming lesson or a new project you wanted to test before bringing it to your students. Not something you needed to finish so you could figure out where children might struggle. But something just for you!

As handwork teachers, so much of our creative energy goes into making for others. We are constantly thinking about what comes next. What project will meet this group of children? How can I modify this for different skill levels? What sample needs to be finished before next week? Somewhere in all of that beautiful work, it can be easy to forget that we are makers, too.

I recently finished a wall hanging that took me an entire year to create. I called it An Ode to Handwork and Fiber Arts because that is exactly what it became. It is a joyful collection of nearly every fiber art I love: knitting, crochet, embroidery, macramé, weaving, natural dyeing, wet felting, needle felting, finger crochet, and hand sewing.

The ocean that surrounds our island home found its way into the piece again and again. There are textures that remind me of coral and stones, knots that feel like nets, soft fibers that move like water, and layers of color and texture that bring to mind the constantly changing shoreline.

But I didn't begin with a drawing or even a clear idea of what the finished piece would look like. I simply began.

One section led me to another. Every new material gave me a new idea. Sometimes I knew exactly what I wanted to do next, and many times I didn't. And that was part of the joy.

There was no curriculum to follow. No deadline. No particular skill I was trying to demonstrate. I could change my mind, take something apart, try something new, walk away for a while (or a month!), and come back when another idea arrived.

Almost 90% of the materials were upcycled or repurposed. I unraveled old sweaters and blankets for yarn, cut into silk scarves, and used scraps and fibers I had saved because they were too beautiful or interesting to throw away. Things that had already lived one life became something entirely new.

This process helped me remember what it feels like to explore. When we are teaching, we are usually the ones who know what comes next so that we may lead the way. We have already made the project. We understand the technique. We know what happens after this row, this stitch, this knot.

But when we step into our own creative work, we get to become learners again. We get stuck, make mistakes, and pull things apart. We may discover something new and suddenly want to know EVERYTHING about it. And then there is that wonderful moment when an idea begins to take shape in our hands and we think, Ooh! What if I tried this?

It can be easy, especially for handwork teachers, to begin measuring our own creativity by its usefulness.

• Could I teach this?

• Would this make a good project?

• What grade would this be appropriate for?

We ask these questions because our students are always in our hearts and on our minds. But not everything we make needs to become a lesson. We can knit something just because we love the yarn. Take a class because we are fascinated by a technique. Or spend months making something completely impractical. 

We can make simply because we love making things with our hands!

And yet, what we discover often finds its way back to the children anyway, because we carry it with us. Struggling reminds us what it feels like to be a beginner. Finding our way through a mistake can give us more patience when a student is frustrated. And following an idea simply because it excites us reminds us how powerful genuine enthusiasm can be.

Children know when we love what we are doing! They can feel the difference between showing them something we know how to do and sharing something that still fills us with wonder.

We will never arrive at a place where we have learned all there is to learn about handwork. At least, I certainly hope not! There will always be another technique, material, tradition, or idea waiting to become something in our hands.

So perhaps, alongside all the projects we make for our classrooms, there can also be something tucked into a basket that belongs only to us. Something with no lesson plan attached.

Something that reminds us why we fell in love with fiber arts in the first place.

One of the greatest gifts we bring into our classrooms is not simply what we know how to make, but that we are still making. Still curious, still learning, still inspired, and still delighted by what our hands can create.

We all know the beginning of a new school year is a very busy time! But I invite you to carve out quiet creative moments for yourself when you can.

What are you curious about?

What inspires you and lights up your heart and hands?

What feeds your creative soul?