Inside the Spin-Mosaic Studio

From the sticky plastic seat of an indoor community pool lobby, I watched my son splash through 2 hours of a birthday party. My head needed only to shift by a few degrees to see a conflict of mixed messages in play. 

It's not the children. They are playing by the rules.

Taped to the glass door, a bold red sign in all CAPS reads, "NO FOOD OR BEVERAGES."

Along the same sightline, a lifeguard reclined in a high white dock chair dipping a wrist with tick-tock rhythm into a giant plastic jar. An open jaw munched on whatever came out. 

Identifying distant snacks by their containers is not a superpower I've thought much about until now. This mom's best guess lands on the lifeguard's snack falling into the category of cheese balls or trail mix. She sits too far away for the label to be read. The size, shape and color are right. How could she not know what the bold red sign says?

We all know the answer. She does.

For whatever reason, she has chosen to disregard. Or, she has chosen to believe that the rules do not apply to the one who is supposed to enforce them. 

Mixed messages.

Mixed messages are everywhere. Some messages bother us more than others. Some have stronger marks of hypocrisy than others. Some are more or less sinister. Some are silly and possess little consequence. Some could kill us or wound joy. Some get under our skin and itch our hearts into callousness. 

Dare I say, artists may have higher antennas than most for mixed messages for the fact alone that our eyes, ever looking for pattern, color, design and lines of interest...are observant. We see and feel connections. And, we see when connections or lack of...don't make sense.

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A snacking lifeguard is not a hill I am going to die on today. This is not a battle I am going to fight today. I did not confront the lifeguard or the community pool establishment. My son, though, did notice and mentioned the irony on the drive home without me bringing it up.

It went like this, "We weren't allowed to bring the birthday cake by the pool. How come the lifeguard got to eat while she was lifeguarding?" 

The conversation was an interesting one to navigate. I did my best. I told him the truth. When it comes to my kids, I want them to know they can ask me anything and I will tell them the truth as I see it. 

In this case and in many cases, I don't know the reason why a rule is disregarded or what lead to this choice. But I can call it what it is: a mixed message.

Since returning to teaching after a 4-year sojourn to focus on studio art, much has changed here on the educational frontier. Change is not a new enemy or a trending friend. It simply is and always will be a factor to contend with. Even the word, "contend" implies a boxing ring: a ring of battle to either conquer or raise a white flag beside.

No white flags will be raised here. The same applies to students in my high school art classroom.

Students I am returning to are post-covid survivors of a weird few years of uncharted territory where we were all doing our best to keep it real. If there is one thing on the top of my list of, say, "20 Observations of Our Changing Current World That I Witness Students Rebounding Against" (that's a too-long title for any book), "Leary of Mixed Messages While Blind To Them" would be one of my first Chapters. 'What to do about it' could fill the remaining 19 chapters, except I don't have it figured out yet. Who does?

God does.

All to say...to teachers, parents, artists...I am reminded over and over again that there is one man noted and quoted in Old Testament Scriptures who was the wisest. You may remember. I wasn't a citizen of earth in pre-history, but his name was Solomon. Shed any presumptions of what you do or don't know about his story, okay? Fast-forward before any of his fame. Rewind before he acted on the gift of his God-given wisdom and you will find that a parent was praying.

His father, who is also well-known (King David), prayed an unusual pre-famous prayer about Solomon and for Solomon, "May he have an uncluttered and undivided heart." --1 Chronicles 29:19 MSG

As Iv'e prayed about this topic of societal mixed messages (for lack of a better thing to call it), the same mom-soul that harbors fears for my children's peace of mind is reminded that the lingering bitterness and confusion of mixed messages cannot cohabitate within the hygiene of an uncluttered and undivided heart.

Many sermons have been preached on forgiveness. Follow me, here. Forgiveness ussually focusses on the person behind an event that has harmed, damaged or wounded. Forgive them. If forgiveness does not cleanse; bitterness destroys. Now or later.

I have not heard a sermon or podcast or radio clip or newsflash or social media blurb about forgiving the constant rampage of mixed messages in society. According to conversations overheard in my high school classroom, resulting bitterness of mixed messages adds up and stacks up into cynical scars that eventually let in neither darkness nor light.

Hearts become cluttered. Peace becomes divided and obscure.

By time my son and I reached home the day of the swimming party, the sky was dark, thunder was in the air and raindrops were forming on my car windshield.

My wrist had barely slid from the steering wheel to flip on the windshield wipers when my son asked if the wipers-knob worked in the same direction as the turn-signal switch: up for right and down for left. Iv'e been driving for so long these actions happen on instinct. I had to stop and think about it.

"Yes, I think so. Ya." I said.

"And the turn signals give messages to cars behind us and wipers give messages to the rain to leave." He added.

"Right..." I responded, guessing he was on to something I was too tired to follow.

He continued, "But the knobs can't be on and off at the same time. Or, blinking right and left at the same time?"

I agreed. The knobs don't work this way. It would be too confusing. It would give mixed messages...

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A Note From Christi: True, since starting back to teaching this last fall, blog-writing has been few and far between. Teaching takes almost everything I have to give. Yet, I have never been more sure that the four walls of this art classroom are where God wants me to be right now. As Mordecai said in the book of Esther, "For such a time as this."

The 2 years I blogged during covid (+27 illustrations) have been compiled into a manuscript awaiting publishing. Summer break is now upon us. The train of thought that keeps me up at night orbits similar concepts as this above. I have never before introduced myself as a high school teacher and had so many people use the word, "brave" in response. "Wow, you must be brave!"

I don't see it this way. I love my students! There is SO much good here. Education has it's struggles. Our present generations have their struggles, but we will get through these challenges with the same promises of power and salvation that God has claimed past generations with as well. On this we can stand tall and stand strong. No white flags will be waving here.