In my dream, I have been invited by Teacher Dottie -- one of my favorite people -- to work with her class of kids -- somewhere between 9 and 12 years old -- to tie one of my favorite knots: the Tautline Hitch. This knot forms a loop at the end of a rope that can be made larger or smaller easily, but once the rope is placed in tension, the loop will remain the same size rather than slipping to become a smaller loop. So it can be tied loosely around a pole or other static location, adjusted for length by making the loop the proper size, and then pulled tightly and securely. It's useful in a wide range of applications and I've used it to tie a wide range of bundles to the top of my car and then drive at 60 miles an hour with absolute confidence I've secured the bundle securely.
There are roughly 35 kids in the class. And I decide it would work best if I sat in the middle of the group and demonstrate how to tie the knot. I start to talk to the kids in the room only to discover that half of them are in this room, but the other half are in the adjoining room, waiting patiently for me to show up. I pick the larger of the two rooms for all the kids to gather, in part because there is a nice carpet on the floor for all the kids to sit on comfortably.
For a reason that isn't at all clear to me, I have decided to use one of flute carriers that I've made out of PVC tubing as the static piece around which I will tie my demonstration Tautline Hitch. It would be a good diameter for the demonstration -- a bit short in length but usable in any case. But my plan to use the carrier fails because I simply don't have one with me. And I'm now sitting in the middle of the room surrounded by Teacher Dottie's kids. (I can see Teacher Dottie standing back by the wall and watching carefully. She doesn't understand the problem, so she's smiling at us.)
The only thing I have available is a short length of tree branch, which is far from ideal. It's not very straight, still covered with bark, and a bit too thin to be considered a pole. I think if I don't handle it carefully, it's likely to break in half. But it's all I've got.
I also don't have a decent piece of rope. Something like clothesline would have worked okay -- or anything of a similar thickness. In my mind's eye, I see exactly the kind of rope that would have worked wonderfully well. What I do have is a piece of badly frayed sisal rope that you might have used 100 years ago to wrap and secure packages. The frayed elements of the rope will certainly hide any part of the finished knot, making the whole demonstration a rather futile exercise.
As I begin to talk to the kids about the knot and why it's such a good one to know and use, I'm concerned that I'm going to look really stupid with my gnarly stick and fuzzy rope. But I'm equally concerned that Teacher Dottie's reputation with the kids might also take a hit.
I get a couple of sentences into my talk when one of the kids interrupts me with an observation about the flaws in my presentation -- unrelated to the stick and rope issues. The kid makes a good point, but it badly interrupts the flow of my presentation. I try to tell him that I appreciate his observation and would like to discuss it with him later, but he wants a response from me right here and now. I try to return to my talk, but soon the same kid has another observation as to why what I'm doing is not right. This happens several more times. The problem for me is not just that he's being disruptive, but that his observations are correct, if not particularly useful for what I'm trying to do. I know that Teacher Dottie would have an excellent way to agree with the kid's observations but do it in a way that would allow her to continue with what she was doing. But I haven't a clue as to how she would do it.
The kid's constant interruptions have totally derailed what I was trying to do. A number of other kids have now retreated from the circle we had formed and were talking comfortably with each other -- about something totally unrelated to tying Tautline Hitches, I'm absolutely sure.
Part of me wants to "Soldier On" and tie the knot in this lousy rope around this lousy stick -- and then beat a hasty retreat. Another part of me wants to apologize to the group for being so woefully unprepared for the presentation. I'm sure that Teacher Dottie can pull the class back together -- once I decide which path to take and pursue it to the bitter end...
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