Did you have sewing lessons at primary school? I did.

I attended primary school in the late 1950s and early 1960s when the Queensland primary school curriculum still included needlework (“sewing”) lessons. My mother, who attended a Queensland primary school in the 1920s, 30+ years before me, also had sewing lessons at school (read My mother’s schooldays: Rannes, the 3Rs and much more).

These lessons were taken by female teachers (or female proxies) and were for girls only. In lieu of sewing, male teachers were required to instruct boys in basic woodwork (including canework).  

Sewing, particularly hand sewing, has long been considered a woman’s domain. Among my prized possessions, I have many beautifully embroidered tablecloths, sideboard runners and duchess sets, and crochet work, the handiwork of my mother and maternal grandmother. These items may be unfashionable today, but they testify to an era when needlework was highly valued and cherished by the majority of women, and society in general.

My mother loved to sew. As a young woman, she purchased a copy of Thérèse de Dillmont’s Encyclopedia of Needlework, a revised and enlarged edition (Mulhouse, c. 1900) and English translation of Dillmont’s original 1886 publication. Thérèse de Dillmont (1846-1890) was an Austrian needleworker and writer. The Encyclopedia of Needlework was Dillmont’s most famous work, so popular it was translated into 17 languages in numerous editions. Following my mother’s passing, this precious book became mine.  

Thérèse de Dillmont was (and perhaps still is) considered the guru on all aspects of needlework. Writing at a time (late 19^th century) when sewing machines were first coming onto the market, she strongly defended the necessity for women to acquire and use the skills of hand sewing:

My sewing lessons at primary school

For me, school sewing lessons commenced in Grade 3. I was 7 years old, going on 8. I still possess a needlework sampler I made that year, as well as botany books containing notes and fabric samples I produced during sewing lessons in Grades 3, 4 and 5.

In each of the botany books, small sweat-stained hand-stitched cotton samples pasted on the blank pages accompany neat cursive handwritten descriptions in pencil on the lined pages. Some of the now-yellowed pages are embellished with paper cutouts. These books and the sampler are evidence of my early efforts at needlework.

With the exception of the Grade 3 sampler, I no longer possess any of the articles I made during primary school sewing lessons. That I didn’t keep any of them, I sorely regret.

One special item I remember making was a handkerchief sachet. I used it for years – I was especially proud of it. I made it using light blue floral cotton fabric, with the side seams and front flap edged with matching blue satin bias binding. In size, it was about 8 inches (20 cm) long and 6 inches (15 cm) wide.

Other items I recall making include a monographed cotton hand towel, a calico peg bag (featuring hand-stitched lettering), and a simple cotton gingham apron.

I remember fondly the sewing basket my parents bought for me to use to store my school sewing aids and to carry them to and from school. In it I kept my needles, pins, scissors, thimble, tape measure and cotton thread.

The Japanese-made white and pale green cane and rope basket was about 10 inches (25 cm) long by 6 inches (15 cm) wide and 5 inches (12 cm) high. It had a plywood base and a hinged lid with a small handle and a loop for fastening the lid to the front of the basket (using a tiny peg). Pale green satin fabric lined the inside of the basket. The same pale green satin fabric lined the underside of the lid, which featured two pin cushions and a thimble holder.

I loved this neat little sewing basket. It served me well (at home and at school) for many years.

The scope and content of my primary school sewing lessons

In the course of primary school sewing lessons over a three-year period, I learnt the rudiments of plain (hand) sewing. In addition, I learnt how to knit.

According to Thérèse de Dillmont, plain sewing comprises four varieties of stitches: (1) running, (2) back-stitching, (3) hemming, (4) top or over-sewing (commonly called seaming). Indeed, our sewing lessons in Grades 3-5 covered all of these stitches and their variations, beginning with the easiest stitches and progressing to more complicated ones.   

In my first year of sewing lessons (Grade 3), I learnt how to do tacking, running stitch, a French seam and hemming.

Tacking (to tack or baste) is the process of sewing quick, temporary stitches that are later removed. In my notebook, I wrote the following instructions: “Begin with a knot and work from right to left. Pass over and under, taking up equal amounts each time. Finish with a back stitch.”

Next, I learnt running stitch. “Running stitch is the simplest and easiest of all, and the first to teach to children”, wrote Thérèse De Dillmont. In my notebook, I wrote the following instructions for running stitch: ”Begin with a back stitch and work from right to left. Insert the needle and take up a small amount of material, pass over less material. Repeat.”

The sampler I produced in Grade 3 demonstrates my use of running stitch. It is the only stitch used on the sampler.

The next two stitches, French seam and hemming, required a little more patience and skill. I can see from the sweat stains on the fabric samples in my book that I struggled to produce perfect examples of these stitches.

In my second year of sewing lessons (Grade 4), I learnt three more stitches: top or over-sewing (seaming), blanket stitch (hemming), and run-and-fell seam (seaming).

By my third year of sewing lessons (Grade 5), I was ready and able to tackle more challenging needlework tasks. That year I added the following stitches and techniques to my hand-sewing repertoire: backstitch, herringbone, loop for a towel, chain stitch, twisted running, tucking, applique work, scalloping, snail trail, simple feather stitch, sewing on lace.

In Grade 5, I also learnt the basics of knitting (casting on, casting off, plain knitting, purling).

The first stitch I learnt in Grade 5 was backstitch. Its instructions, and an accompanying sample of my work, is the first entry in my Grade 5 botany book. This sample is clean and neat – evidence that my handiwork was improving!

Backstitch: “Use in all kinds of embroidery as an outline stitch. Working from right to left bring the thread through a little way along the line to be worked. Take the needle back to the beginning of the line and bring it out beyond the stitch just made leaving the length of another stitch. Insert the needle into the end of the first stitch and bring it out ready for the next stitch. Keep all the stitches as even as possible and care should be taken to avoid splitting the thread.”

Herringbone is another stitch I learnt in Grade 5. It was once used for overcasting dress seams, taking the place of hemming for fastening down the raw edges of a seam that has been run or stitched without turning in. In my Grade 5 notebook, under the heading “Herringbone”, I wrote: “It is used in plain sewing for neatening hems and seams, and it is also attractive as a border stitch. It is necessary to protect the raw edges of material, and prevent fraying.”

In Grade 5, I also learnt how to sew a loop on a towel. These are the instructions I recorded in my sewing notebook:

“Cut a piece of tape about 6 inches long (or as desired). Fold in half. Beginning from the fold hem for a distance equal to the width of the tape. Flatten the tape and hem across two widths of tape. Turn the raw edges under for 1/8 inch, then turn again, the width of the tape. Place the tape on the wrong side of the hem. Pin, tack, and hem on four sides making sure the sewing is exactly at the fold of the hem on the fourth side.”

I have no evidence of what I learnt or made in sewing classes in Grades 6 and 7. However, I believe it was during these two years that I produced a number of practical items (such as the handkerchief sachet, peg bag and apron) using the skills and techniques I learnt in Grades 3, 4 and 5.

My primary school sewing teachers

I recall having two sewing teachers at primary school: Mrs Price (Grades 3, 5 and 6) and Miss Koppie (Grade 4). Mrs Price was my classroom teacher in Grade 3 and for two of three terms of Grade 5. Miss Koppie was my classroom teacher in Grade 4. I do not remember who took the sewing lessons in Grade 7. I wonder: Was it Mr Weir (my classroom teacher)? A male teacher! Really?

As a 7-year-old, while I admired Mrs Price, I found her a little intimidating. She was a tall, elegant, impeccably presented woman of about 40. She wore the most beautiful dresses, accompanied by high heel shoes (which made her seem taller than she actually was). Mrs Price was a competent classroom teacher with many years of teaching experience. And it showed. Nothing escaped her attention in our classroom. (I note from my Grade 3 report card that she managed single-handed a class of 45-48 children! There were no teacher aides in those days.)

Mrs Price was a perfectionist. Consequently, she expected the highest standards of effort and achievement from her students. I remember always trying very hard to please her. And that included my efforts at needlework during sewing lessons.

Miss Koppie was also a perfectionist. She was a young woman, in her 20s, perhaps a beginning teacher. Unlike Mrs Price, Miss Koppie had to work hard to keep our class under control. She often had to raise her voice to gain our undivided attention. However, like Mrs Price, she expected her students to put in their best effort and aim for the highest level of achievement. That applied to all our subject areas, including sewing.

Clearly, I am indebted to both Mrs Price and Miss Koppie for introducing me to the rudiments of plain sewing and (in Mrs Price’s case) teaching me the basics of knitting.  

After primary school

The core needlework skills I gained during sewing lessons at primary school prepared me well for a lifelong dedication to, and love of, sewing and knitting.

In Grade 8, at high school, Home Science classes (compulsory for all Grade 8 girls) included sewing lessons. The focus of these lessons was dressmaking – drafting patterns, cutting out, and machine sewing. I remember making several wearable garments (including a blouse and skirt) at school that year.

The machine sewing skills I learnt in Grade 8 stood me in good stead as a lifelong dressmaker and home decorator. I’ve written previously about machine sewing, and provided examples of my handiwork, in The old treadle sewing machine (May 24, 2017).

Despite embracing machine sewing, I continued to use and develop my needlework skills. While still in my teens, I tried my hand at linen embroidery, employing a variety of stitches (satin stitch, stem stitch, lazy daisy stitch, knotted knot stitch, counted cross stitch). One of the first pieces I produced, a cross stitch linen doily, adorned the dressing table of my room at The Women’s College (St Lucia), where I lived for three years as a university undergraduate.

Some years later I had a go at tapestry. Following the example of my husband, over several decades I produced numerous decorative pieces, most of which I made as gifts for family members and friends. To find out how my husband came to take up needlework (tapestry), read Our surprising connection with a Bavarian castle (May 30, 2023).

The fabric (“canvas”) one uses for tapestry work depends on the kind of stitches and thread employed. We use Penelope canvas (its threads lie in pairs) for half cross stitch work and wool thread; plain canvas (woven of single threads) for long stitch work using wool thread; and fine Aida cloth for counted cross stitch and stranded cotton.

Counted cross stitch work became my preferred embroidery medium. Most of the articles I produced (such as wedding samplers, friendship samplers) I gave as gifts. Two recent examples include the miniature sampler I made for my mother as a Mother’s Day gift in 1999 and the Scripture verse sampler I made for her in 2007.

I began to knit seriously in the early 1970s. For me, knitting was both relaxing and rewarding. I quickly learnt the techniques that enabled me to create beautiful hand-knitted garments – for myself and my family. I fell in love with knitting. As soon as I completed one garment, I began working on another. I’ve lost count of the number of handknits I have produced (and given away) since I began my knitting journey in the 1970s.

Today, most of my needlework projects arise out of necessity. Clothes and soft furnishings suffer wear and tear (whether by constant use or by accident) and need repair or replacement. Some items of clothing are too small (I’m no longer a Size 8!) or too large (trouser legs or shirt sleeves on bought items too long) and need adjustment. Soft furnishings (like curtains and cushion covers) deteriorate over time and need to be replaced. Just four weeks ago, I made new curtains for our family room and guest bedroom.

In writing this story, I’ve come to realise how many stitched or knitted articles I’ve made – too many to count, so many long-forgotten, so many given away. This realisation is quite overwhelming. Moreover, when I bring to mind the many and various pieces my hands have produced since my primary school days, I feel so very thankful, so blessed, that I have been able to create such beautiful articles.   

Among the many accomplishments of women, there is none in which it is of such importance to be thoroughly grounded as in plain sewing properly so called, which is, indeed, the foundation of all other needlecraft. (Thérèse de Dillmont)

EPILOGUE

I first came across “A Stitcher’s Prayer” in 1996, during a visit to the home of a dear friend, Betty Anderson. The words of the prayer featured in a needlework piece Betty had worked and which hung, framed, in Betty’s living room. 

Truly, Betty made this prayer her own. She kept stitching until she could see no more. Betty died on 25 February 2020. She was 100 years old! (Read Betty Anderson: 100 years of gratitude and loving service, September 7, 2020.)

I would like to make this prayer mine too.