First Person

Designing school buildings for 21st century learning

Editor’s note: This article was written by Victoria Bergsagel ,founder and president of Architects of Achievement, a design strategy firm that builds bridges between educational research and actual school design. She was the speaker at the Nov. 20 What Matters and What Counts in Education breakfast.

Our country is abuzz with talk about 21st century learning. We chatter about global competition and the need for innovation. We bemoan the shortage of a well-prepared work force and cry out for systems to more equitably serve all students. Yet when it comes to the design of educational facilities, we are stuck in a time-warp. If he awoke today, Rip Van Winkle would probably recognize our schools. We can do better. We must.

There is plenty of research to guide robust school designs. The National Research Council (How People Learn, 2002) says we learn best through: 1) active, inquiry-based learning experiences that foster curiosity; 2) in-depth projects through which we make application and find relevance; and 3) performance assessment where we exhibit evidence of our skills and show what we know. But we don’t need rocket scientists to tell us that.

Design schools for people. Better yet, ask students. One 16-year-old nailed it. “No one wants to learn in sterile, boring, institutional facilities. Give us beauty, real-life projects, choice, opportunity, and ownership, and we’ll show you what we can do.”

The American Architectural Foundation (2009) determined in a recent study that students want hands-on learning opportunities, variety and flexibility, comfortable and social spaces, seamless technology, sustainable designs, and connections to the outdoors. I could not agree more.

Inspired by Christopher Alexander’s A Pattern Language, (1979), I gathered some colleagues a few years back to write a book of our own. Architecture for Achievement: Building Patterns for Small School Learning (2007) offers patterns to reconfigure, renovate, and design better schools. Here’s a sampling:

Consider Optimal Light. It affects our motivation, energy, and vision—all of which are profoundly connected to learning. (The Heschong-Malone studies in1999 and 2002 found that students with the most classroom daylight progressed 20% faster on math tests and 26% faster on reading tests in one year.) Why would we not design schools to raise achievement and conserve energy?

Develop Indoor-Outdoor Connections. At their best, indoor spaces in schools connect and flow naturally into outdoor spaces presenting wonderful opportunities for developmental play, exploration, interaction, and learning. Consider designing learning patios for projects, nature trails and gardens for engagement, and field studies to encourage curiosity and adventure.

Design Clusters of Learning. Project development, community meetings, lectures, exercise, and presentations can all be experienced when key adjacencies (classrooms, specialty rooms, and studios) are co-located and easily adapted to a variety of teaching and learning styles.

Provide Varied Spaces. Students learn in different ways. Provide places for exploration, collaboration, tinkering, performance, quiet study, and yes, even direct instruction.

Operate campuses on a Human Scale and design in ways that permit all the participants in a learning community to know each other well. New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Boston, Denver, and many other cities are reconfiguring existing campuses and building new small school complexes with remarkable success. So is Marysville, WA.

The Marysville Getchell High School Campus, just north of Seattle, is a stellar example of principle-driven design. Summits, open houses, and focus groups were all par for the course as the community developed guiding principles to move mountains – and raise graduation rates by over 25 percent. No wonder it is the darling of the school design world.

Recently named the best school design in the nation by the National School Boards’ Association (NSBA), and best in the world by the Council of Educational Facilities Planners International (CEFPI), the campus consists of a community building (replete with a gym, fitness center, and dining facilities) and four autonomous high school buildings. The Biomed Academy, School for the Entrepreneur, Academy of Construction and Engineering, and School for International Communications each serve 400 students. Outdoor learning patios, reconfigurable project labs, connected learning studios, and collaborative circulation spaces make the campus more like a modern workplace than the typical school. Students love the campus and are proud of their involvement in its design. See for yourself and check out this video.

Marysville accomplished this feat by developing guiding principles to focus their work, filter important educational decisions, test architectural options, and clarify important decisions when adult interests came in conflict with overall goals. As a result:

  • Community is provided at various scales to encourage community connection.
  • Relationships at the Center promote teaming and blur boundaries through transparency and shared spaces.
  • Learner-Focused spaces support interaction at various scales to invigorate projects, collaboration, and the display of student work.
  • Identity and Purpose shines through unique colors, materials, and user definitions of each small school.
  • Accountability is encouraged through spatial transparencies that provide connections between staff, students, parents, and community.

With strong relationships as a foundation, we can guide partners in inquiry and provide powerful experiences that help teams envision new possibilities. Gently pushing, we can challenge assumptions, ask bold questions, and engage in courageous conversations to design better schools.

Listen carefully, dream mightily, and execute elegantly. And take a cue from Christopher Alexander. “When you build a thing, you cannot merely build that thing in isolation, but must also repair the world around it, and within it.”

First Person

What I learned about the limits of school choice in New York City from a mother whose child uses a wheelchair

PHOTO: Patrick Wall

As a researcher interested in the ways online platforms impact learning and educational decision-making, I’ve been trying to understand how New York City parents get the information to make a crucial decision: where to send their children to school.

So for the past six months, I’ve been asking local parents about the data they used to choose among the system’s 1700 or so schools.

I’ve heard all sorts of stories about the factors parents weigh when picking schools. Beyond the usual considerations like test scores and art programs, they also consider the logistics of commuting from the Bronx to the East Village with two children in tow, whether the school can accommodate parents and children who are still learning English, and how much money the parent-teacher association raises to supplement the school’s budget.

But for some families, the choice process begins and ends with the question: Is the building fully accessible?

The federal Americans with Disabilities Act requires public buildings constructed after 1992 to be fully accessible to people in wheelchairs. However, most New York City public school buildings were constructed prior to that law, and high construction costs have limited the number of new, fully accessible buildings.

As a result, a shocking 83 percent of New York City schools have been found non-compliant with the ADA, according to a two-year federal Department of Justice investigation whose findings the city Department of Education largely disputes. Recently, the city’s Office of Space Management has begun surveying buildings for full accessibility, but more work remains to be done.

One parent’s struggle to find a school suitable for her son, who has a physical disability but no cognitive issues, illustrates what a major role accessibility plays in some families’ decision-making.

Melanie Rivera is the mother of two and a native New Yorker living in Ditmas Park in Brooklyn’s District 22 who shared her story with me — and gave me permission to share it with others. Here is what she told me, in her own words:

My son Gabriel is seven years old. He was born with a condition called arthrogryposis, which affects the development of his joints. His hips, knees, and feet are affected and he has joint contractures, so his legs don’t bend and straighten the way most people’s do. In order to get around, he uses a combination of crutches and a wheelchair.

Before I had my differently-abled son, I was working in a preschool for children with special needs. The kids I worked with had cognitive developmental disabilities.

Despite my professional experience, I was overwhelmed when it was my turn to help my child with different abilities navigate the public school system. I can only imagine the students falling by the wayside because their parents don’t have that background.

When I was completing my son’s kindergarten application, I couldn’t even consider the academics of the school. My main priority was to tour the schools and assess their level of accessibility.

There are only a couple of ADA-accessible schools in my district, and there was no way of indicating on my son’s kindergarten application that he needed one. When we got the admissions results, he was assigned to his zoned school – which is not accessible.

I entered lengthy and extensive mediation to get him into an ADA-accessible school. At that point, I knew I would just have to take what I could get. For families whose children have special needs, “school choice” can ring hollow.

The process of finding any accessible school was a challenge. The DOE website allows families to search for ADA-accessible schools. But the site describes most schools as “partially accessible,” leaving it up to parents to call each school and say, “What do you mean by this?”

When I called the schools and asked, “Are you a barrier-free school?” the staff in the office didn’t know what the term meant. They might reply, “Oh yeah, we have a ramp.” I’d have to press further: “But can you get to the office? Can you get to every floor in the building?” The response was often, “Oh, I don’t know.”

Even the office staff didn’t know. But for my son’s sake, I needed to know.

Gabriel deserves the full range of academic and social experiences. So every day I make sure he’s learning in the least-restrictive environment — from the classroom, to phys ed, to field trips.

I believe the Department of Education also wants to make schools accessible and to place students with different abilities in settings where they’ll flourish, but the current system is not equipped to follow through on those good intentions. While I see gradual changes, I still know that if I don’t find the best placement for my son the system definitely won’t.

At the school level, administrators should know the details of their own school’s accessibility. Teachers should learn to include children with different abilities in their classrooms. Such a commitment means recognizing the value of inclusivity — not viewing accessibility as something ADA says you must do.

Before I had Gabriel, I never thought about accessibility. I never looked at street cutouts or thought about how to enter a store with steps. We’re probably all guilty of perpetuating exclusion at one point or another.

Recognizing that will allow us to change the status quo. It will allow every individual with a physical disability to fully participate in the public school system.

Claire Fontaine is a researcher at Data & Society, a research institute in New York City focused on social, cultural, and ethical issues arising from technological development. Kinjal Dave is a research assistant at Data & Society. You can read more about their project, which seeks to better understand the ways in which diverse New York City parents draw on school performance data, online dashboards, and school review websites when researching schools for their children.

First Person

I covered Tennessee’s ed beat for Chalkbeat. Here’s what I learned.

PHOTO: Marta W. Aldrich
Grace Tatter covers a press conference at the Tennessee State Capitol in 2015.

For three years, I covered the Statehouse for Chalkbeat Tennessee, reporting on how policies from Nashville trickled down into more than 1,800 public schools across the state.

Now I’m starting back to school myself, pursuing graduate studies aimed at helping me to become a better education journalist. I’m taking with me six things I learned on the job about public education in Tennessee.

1. Apathy is often cited as a major problem facing education. That’s not the case in Tennessee.

I heard from hundreds of parents, educators, and students who were passionate about what’s happening — good and bad — inside of schools. I covered crowded school board meetings and regularly scrambled for an open seat at legislative hearings where parents had filled the room after driving since dawn to beat the opening gavel. Not incidentally, those parents usually came from communities with the “worst” schools and the lowest test scores. While many disagreements exist about the best way to run schools, there is no shortage of people, particularly parents and educators, who care.

2. Tennessee has one of the most fascinating education stories in America.

I’ve had a front-row seat to massive changes in K-12 education under reforms ushered in by Race to the Top — an overhaul being tracked closely well beyond the state’s borders. But the national interest and import doesn’t end with changes stemming from the $500 million federal award. Tennessee is home to some of the nation’s premier education researchers, making its classrooms laboratories for new ideas about pre-K, school turnaround, and literacy instruction, just to name a few. And at the legislature, more lobbyists are devoted to education than to most any other cause. A lot of eyes are on Tennessee schools.

3. The education community is not as divided as it looks.

During the course of just a few years, I watched state lawmakers change their positions on accountability and school vouchers. I witnessed “anti-charter” activists praise charter leaders for their work. I chronicled task force meetings where state leaders who were committed to standardized testing found middle ground with classroom educators concerned that it’s gone too far. In short, a lot of people listened to each other and changed their minds. Watching such consensus-building reminded me that, while there are no simple debates about education, there is a widespread commitment to making it better.

4. Money matters.

Even when stories don’t seem to be about money, they usually are. How much money is being spent on testing, teacher salaries, school discipline reform? How much should be available for wraparound services? Why do some schools have more money than others? Is there enough to go around? Tennessee leaders have steadily upped public education spending, but the state still invests less than most other states, and the disparities among districts are gaping. That’s why more than a handful of school districts are battling with the state in court. Conversations about money are inextricable from conversations about improving schools.

5. Race is a significant education issue, but few leaders are willing to have that conversation.

More than 60 years after Brown v. Board of Education, Tennessee’s schools are largely racially segregated. Yet most policymakers tread lightly, if ever, into conversations about achieving real racial integration. And in many cases — such as a 2011 law enabling mostly white suburban Shelby County towns to secede from the mostly black Memphis district — they’ve actually gone backwards. Then there’s the achievement data. The annual release of test scores unleashes a flurry of conversation around the racial achievement gap. But the other 11 months of the year, I heard little about whether state and local policies are closing those gaps — or contributing to them — or the historical reasons why the gaps exist in the first place. To be sure, state leadership is trying to address some of Tennessee’s shortcomings. For example, the State Department of Education has launched modestly funded initiatives to recruit more teachers of color. But often, race and racism are the elephants in the room.

6. Still, there’s lots to celebrate.

If there were unlimited hours in the day, I could have written thousands of stories about what’s going right in public education. Every day, I received story ideas about collaborations with NASA in Oak Ridge, high school trips to Europe from Memphis, gourmet school lunches in Tullahoma, and learning partnerships with the Nashville Zoo. Even in schools with the steepest challenges, they were stories that inspire happiness and hope. They certainly inspired me.

Grace Tatter graduated from public schools in Winston-Salem, N.C., and received her bachelor’s degree in history from the University of North Carolina. She’s now pursuing a master’s degree in specialized studies at the Harvard Graduate School of Education.