My high school wasn’t the typical “Breakfast Club” layout. Littered with courtyards and porticos, the architectural character emphasized well-groomed spaces and study coves over locker-lined hallways and linoleum floors. Several weeks ago I walked the campus for the first time in a decade. Having become a planner in the interim, my eyes saw the landscape differently, and I began to connect the structure and scale of the buildings with the culture I experienced before and after graduation. My graduating class had always been close, as I imagine many classes at this institution are, though I suspect what fostered that closeness was an opportunity for space ownership and informal gathering, rather than a cookie-cutter atmosphere of intense teaching and learning.
In the past several months I’ve read and archived dozens of articles on creating a clever space for learning. Traditionally, the term ‘learning’ conjures up images of the classroom: desks, chalkboards, boredom. Many of my classrooms were designed in the “educator up front, desks facing the teacher” style, yet my high school allowed for comfortable spaces where we could simply be. As students, we had the opportunity to work, meddle, and nap in areas free from the passive eagle eyes of faculty and administrators. Within these spaces we were able to come together under our own rules and dictate our own courses of action. In these spaces we could gather with classmates we might not see every day but with whom we still shared the high school experience.
School systems around the globe have started to connect the importance of non-traditional space to the holistic development of the student. In this spirit, schools have placed new value on space development, recognizing it isn’t just the classroom, but all spaces that impact social and psychological growth. Under the premise that learning happens everywhere, these institutions have started to design spaces with the promise of holistic development: a commercial aircraft has been converted to a geography classroom in the UK, Cornell University installed lawns in a campus library, the PlayMaker School in Los Angeles emphasizes virtual sandboxes and a “choose your own adventure” curriculum, and Vittra, a Swedish school system, has done away with classrooms completely. As schools provide landscapes in which youth can engage in less traditional interaction, they begin to accept the idea of informal space playing a substantial role in individual development.
With a background in community development, I recognize not every school can provide plush couches and a fireplace for a specific segment of its student body. What I do believe is that it is less about the beauty of a space and more about the provision of any space at all. By law, K-12 education is responsible for guiding the academic development of the student. But schools should intertwine personal and academic growth through both planning and facilities; students need places outside the classroom for self-expression and the opportunity to converse with peers. Granting them spaces in which they can do this leads to cohesion and collaboration. In the adult world, this concept can translate directly to co-working environments, coffee shops, and out-of-cubicle flex space. Each space in which we set foot provides the opportunity to connect with someone else.
In my experience, the majority of inner-city schools often try to keep cookie-cutter spaces serving a cookie-cutter purpose. Routines are kept regimented for fear of detraction or distraction. By forbidding loitering and repressing unplanned gathering, administrators claim there will be greater discipline and order. I disagree strongly. An enforced regimen only produces greater predictability – and predictability cannot be interchanged with discipline. Permitting the non-traditional use of space (or providing non-traditional space for use), has a greater effect, in that the ability to rethink use of a space and the freedom to let others rethink use of a space will enhance communication, leadership and decision-making, strengthen relationships, and help students solve their own problems. All in all, the gift to assemble freely during such formative years encourages students to find the answers a textbook could never provide.
