Overeducated & Unemployable

It must be something that comes naturally when you teach primary school: the need to fiddle with paper, crayons, paint, and other assorted crafts*. If I could, I'd do crafts every lesson. I believe kids learn a lot about themselves when learning to crochet: fine motor skills, perseverance to master something new, the ability to focus and work quietly. I'm not arguing we should start sewing in school and all will be well with the world. Of course kids need to run, and scream, and climb in trees, but giving them a taste of making something, can boost their confidence.
I say "can", because my ideas are all very unscientifically based on circumstantial evidence. Making things doesn't work for every kid. Some are in a constant search for perfection, and never consider their work good enough. Others say beforehand they will fail, and don't even try. Guiding kids towards success is a difficult path. How do you indeed do that? Is there some sort of scientific research on how to teach children how to attain success?
There's lots of trial and error and ideology involved in how and what we teach. So I knit on, in between teaching the meaning of Ramadan for Islam, the way genders are formed by culture, the importance of empathy for the Other, because I believe there are valuable lessons to learn when we make things.

* No, it doesn't come naturally to a primary school teacher. Most of my colleagues despise the afternoons crafting with their pupils.

My colleague loves to sew, and like every budding seamstress she started a blog. Unlike every blogging seamstress she's got a quirky writing voice (which sounds exactly like her talking voice), and even more unlikely, she usually shows her failure, so us readers can all have a laugh at her expense. I enjoy reading her weekly adventures with the sewing machine – especially when what she shows is a far cry from perfection. It made me convinced I could do that too. So I steal the easy patterns from S. and let the Toyota sing. Yesterday's fair was a little cloth toy for a (different) colleague's baby. It earned me a kiss and much appreciation from other bystanders.
Reading someone else, also makes me more committed to writing. So here I go again, trying to find that rhythm. And trying not to turn this into a housewifely blog.

One of the best known Flemish bloggers of the moment is Mme Zsazsa. She fits into the revival of DIY that's so apparent in today's blogverse. To Flemish standards Mme Zsazsa has heaps of followers. And now she has a book that tops the best seller charts. It's called Allemaal rokjes ("Skirts Galore") and everyone wants to have it, because everyone wants to make skirts. Mme Zsazsa gives radio and tv interviews to make sure that those that didn't feel like making skirts want to anyway. The conversation goes something like this: "Why did you write the book Mme Zsazsa?" "Because there weren't any good books on sewing." Because there were no books on sewing I'd read, would be a more accurate answer, I believe.

From blog to book isn't new. Asha Dornfest of Parent Hacks started her site as an easy way for parents to share experiences and give tips, because books on parenting teach you nothing. Currently she's in the process of writing a book (co-authored by Christine Koh) on minimalist parenting. It's the parenting book that leaves all the other parenting books in the shadow! Or the one you write because there simply aren't any good ones to read.

What strikes me most in this anecdotal research into the wondrous world of blogs turned into books, is that the act of publishing a book is looked upon as having made it. Suddenly the blogger is no longer that marginal figure behind the computer screen, but a name printed on paper no less. The book is always bigger than the screen, it seems. Our warped minds still prefer the real paper book over the ephemeral blog. Still we're glued to screens to get all the best information. How can the book contain something new then? And most of all: does a book really target a new audience?