Behind the Scenes: Why Learning Looks Messy Before It Works

I volunteered to bring the cake.Easy-peasy, I thought.

Until my nine-year-old grandson made a specific request.

“I want ice cream cake,” he said.Then added, “Homemade, Grandma.

”

I found a guaranteed simple recipe:Layer ice cream sandwiches and frost with Cool Whip.

What could go wrong?

The trouble started with the 15 paper wrappers. As I tried to peel them away, they tore into tiny pieces that clung stubbornly to the frozen sandwiches. I stood at the counter picking off white flecks, one by one.

By the time I reached the “easy” part of the recipe, the sandwiches were soft.

And squishy.

I worked faster.

Layering.

Swishing.

Straightening a stack that refused to stay even.

Lopsided but intact, I slid the cake into the freezer just in time — before it melted into a puddle.

Note to self: Next time, unwrap the sandwiches first.Then put them back in the freezer to firm up before frosting.

Such a simple concept.

Just a little too late.

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The Creative Parallel

That moment stayed with me.

Recently, after an art critique, I was encouraged to practice new brushstrokes by working more realistically from photographs. It’s a careful, deliberate process — and one that doesn’t come naturally to me.

It felt slow.

Fussy.

Uncomfortable.

Much like wrestling with fifteen melting ice cream sandwiches.

But here’s what I keep relearning:

Learning rarely looks neat while it’s happening.

Whether it’s frosting a cake or retraining your hand to paint differently, growth often feels awkward, uneven, and a little sticky.

And maybe that’s not failure at all.

Maybe that’s just the middle.