When My Art Classroom Lost Its Soul
The first time I walked into Mrs. Alvarez’s art class, the smell of acrylic paint and pencil shavings hit me like a warm hug. Her classroom was a messy sanctuary—easels crammed into corners, half-finished sculptures on every table, and walls plastered with student work spanning decades. She’d pause mid-demonstration to tell stories about color theory rebels like Van Gogh or ask us why Picasso’s Guernica still made our stomachs drop. Art, to her, wasn’t just about technique; it was about feeling something.
Then the budget cuts happened.
Our school board claimed they were “modernizing the arts program,” but all anyone talked about was Mrs. Alvarez’s sudden departure. By October, we had a new teacher—a 20-something with a pastel Instagram feed and a TikTok account dedicated to “viral art hacks.” Let’s call her Ms. Reed. On her first day, she rearranged the room into “aesthetic zones” and handed out iPads. “We’re going to focus on creating content,” she announced, “not just… art.”
The Quiet Disappearance of Messy Creativity
Mrs. Alvarez’s classes were chaotic but purposeful. She’d assign projects like “paint a memory using only textures” or “build a sculpture that represents fear.” Students groaned at first, but by the end, even the most reluctant kid would have something raw and personal to share. I remember working for weeks on a charcoal piece about my parents’ divorce—smudging, erasing, starting over until my hands were blackened. When I finally showed her, she didn’t just nod. She asked, “Does it hurt less now?”
Ms. Reed’s assignments feel like a different universe. Last week, we spent three class periods filming 15-second videos of ourselves drawing “VSCO girl doodles” to trending sounds. “Focus on the transitions and lighting,” she reminded us, “that’s what gets views.” My classmate Jake tried to sketch a self-portrait instead. She gently redirected him: “Maybe add some glitter? Glow effects? That’s what’s trending in ArtTok right now.”
The room is neater now. The iPads stay charged. But the walls are bare except for a rotating screen of “top-performing student posts” monitored for likes.
Why “Aesthetic Art Education” Misses the Point
Don’t get me wrong—I scroll through TikTok art tutorials too. There’s something thrilling about watching a time-lapse of a watercolor sunset or a makeup artist turning their face into a galaxy. But reducing art class to content creation feels like teaching cooking by only showing people how to plate food for photos. You lose the why behind the what.
Mrs. Alvarez taught us that art is a conversation between the creator and their truth. She’d say, “If you’re not a little scared of your own work, you’re not digging deep enough.” Contrast that with Ms. Reed’s mantra: “Optimize for shareability!” Suddenly, our worth is measured in engagement metrics rather than emotional resonance. A student’s painting of their late grandmother’s hands gets sidelined for a neon abstract loop that fits a “chill vibes” playlist.
Worse, the pressure to be “on trend” stifles individuality. When every project requires a predefined aesthetic—dreamcore, cottagecore, dark academia—students stop asking, What do I want to express? and start asking, What’s going viral this week? It’s art as algorithm, creativity confined to a dropdown menu.
The Danger of Equating “Modern” with “Better”
Schools are scrambling to stay relevant in the digital age, and I get it. But there’s a difference between teaching kids to use modern tools and reducing art to a content mill. Mrs. Alvarez occasionally let us experiment with digital art or photography, but it was always in service of an idea. (“How does editing change the story a photo tells?”) Ms. Reed, meanwhile, treats traditional mediums like relics. Last month, I brought in an oil pastel landscape I’d worked on for hours. She smiled and said, “Cute! But have you tried recreating this as a TikTok slideshow? Static images don’t really pop anymore.”
It’s not just about tools; it’s about intent. Viral art prioritizes novelty and speed—quick thrills for endless scrolling. But meaningful art requires patience, introspection, and yes, occasional frustration. You can’t rush a kid through understanding why mixing too many colors turns paint muddy any more than you can rush their understanding of grief or joy.
Can We Find a Middle Ground?
I’m not anti-TikTok or anti-innovation. There’s magic in seeing a 15-year-old’s digital mural go viral or a stop-motion project inspire thousands. But when trends dictate an entire curriculum, students lose the space to develop their own voice. Why does it have to be one or the other?
Imagine a class that teaches foundational skills and digital literacy. Where students study Frida Kahlo’s raw vulnerability and analyze how modern artists build audiences online. Where a project could end as a gallery piece, a social media campaign, or both—depending on what serves the message. Art shouldn’t have to choose between depth and reach.
What My Old Teacher Taught Me About Art’s Purpose
On Mrs. Alvarez’s last day, she pulled me aside. I was stressing over a collage that “wasn’t coming together.” Instead of offering tips, she said, “Art isn’t about control. It’s about listening—to your materials, your mistakes, the quiet parts of yourself you usually ignore.”
That’s the piece missing in our shiny new classroom. Ms. Reed’s lessons feel like performing instead of exploring. Our projects are polished but bloodless, designed to be consumed rather than felt. I miss the messiness. I miss the fear. I even miss the occasional disasters—the clay mug that collapsed on the wheel, the portrait that looked more like a potato. Those “failures” were proof we were trying something real.
Maybe one day, schools will realize that “modernizing” art education doesn’t mean replacing soul with strategy. Until then, I’ll keep my old charcoal sketches hidden in a notebook—and hope somewhere, Mrs. Alvarez is still out there, telling kids to embrace the mess.
Please indicate: Thinking In Educating » When My Art Classroom Lost Its Soul