The young man also wished he had a bigger chest and was taller, of superhero stature. But we complimented him on his handsome choice of fabrics (silver and black on one side, brown paisley on the other). I told him he was going to look like Cary Grant, whom he had clearly never heard of, but he appreciated my tone of awe.

They were so serious. The hardest part is laying out the pattern pieces on the straight grain of the fabric, identifying the grain line on the tissue, and meticulously using the measuring tape to line it all up. Watching their little fingers struggle with the pins, and holding the twisty tape and flyaway tissue in place, brought tears to my eyes. I wasn’t any more graceful when I began!

Illustration by Tramaine de Senna

One little girl kept coming to a standstill, and
when I would ask her what was wrong, she would
stare at me, balefully, with one word: “Nothing.”

Nonverbal sullenness, my worst trigger! I grabbed Jill for a word, and confided that I was getting nowhere with Miss Pastel Blue Silent Treatment.

“Oh, she’s just seven, she’s scared, they’re all scared,” Jill said, whereupon she scooped up the tot into her lap and helped her feed her first seam into her machine, praising her the whole time.

A huge smile appeared. I couldn’t believe it. I was
impressed, schooled, and jealous. The next time I get

stuck on a sewing project, I’m going to make Jill put me in her lap, too.

The parents showed up after five hours, and looked like they’d landed in Santa’s workshop. Their kids were covered in fabric scraps, armed with scissors and needles, running the machine pedals like demons. It appeared as if we were running a highly successful child labor sweatshop.

None of these parents sewed. It was something their maternal grandmothers had done, but not passed down. Many of them had been skeptical when their young child had insisted that yes, she needed a serious sewing machine, when Miss Thing had never even threaded a needle before. I am so impressed they took the chance.

I was exultant at the end of the day. I ordered a carnitas burrito from next door and relished it like an award dinner. The kids crowded around me, “Are you going to be back tomorrow?” I have never been so honored.

Jill was right. The key to our success was generosity of spirit — to give them creative control, and to express complete confidence and delight at their efforts, every step of the way. It was so simple. When you think about it, when’s the last time someone gave that to you … at any age? ×