Learning Environ Res (2010) 13:127–145

DOI 10.1007/s10984-010-9071-x

ORIGINAL PAPER

Architectural design and the learning environment:

A framework for school design research

Neil Gislason

Received: 4 April 2008 / Accepted: 16 March 2009 / Published online: 29 April 2010
 Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2010

Abstract This article develops a theoretical framework for studying how instructional
space, teaching and learning are related in practice. It is argued that a school’s physical
design can contribute to the quality of the learning environment, but several non-archi-
tectural factors also determine how well a given facility serves as a setting for teaching and
learning. Supporting evidence for this argument is drawn from research on school climate
and organisation, as well as from the author’s study of three open-plan high schools.
Facilities design, educational practice, school culture, and student learning are found to be
interrelated aspects of a school’s total learning environment.

Keywords Architectural design
Educational facilities
Learning environments

School climate
Small schools

Introduction

A recent report describes the ‘‘science of learning environments’’ as ‘‘remarkably under-

developed’’ (Higgins et al. 2005, p. 3). There is indeed no established framework for
conducting school design research, and there have been few studies of how school
architecture shapes educational practice. The underlying problem in this regard is that
researchers generally consider teaching and learning apart from their architectural setting,
or study the built environment separately from classroom practice. The lack of research on
school architecture represents a significant gap in education scholarship, because such
research could help architects and educators make informed decisions about the design and
use of school space.
This article develops a conceptual model which links school architecture, teaching and
learning. The model is intended to serve as a framework for research on how different
design features enable or hinder specific educational practices. Supporting evidence for the

N. Gislason (&)
785 Indian Road, Toronto, ON M6P 2E4, Canada
e-mail: neilgislason@hotmail.com

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model is drawn mainly from research on school climate and organisation, as well as from a
doctoral study on three open-plan high schools in Minnesota (Gislason 2009b). It is argued
that a design’s success rests largely on how well it supports a given educational program. If
there is a good program-design fit, then a design will tend to facilitate and reinforce
educational practice. However, a good initial match between a school’s program and
design does not guarantee a design’s success, because a range of factors related to school
organisation, staff culture and student dynamics also influence the performance of a facility
as a setting for teaching and learning.

Theoretical framework

One challenge in developing a framework for school design research is finding where to
begin. A researcher ordinarily would turn to existing studies and other sources of back-
ground information. However, because very little research on school architecture has been
undertaken, there is no real basis from which to proceed. There have been some studies of
the impact of heating, lighting and other physical factors on academic performance, but
these focus on basic building attributes and do not address wider issues such as the
relationship between classroom layout and educational practice (Earthman 2004; Picus
et al. 2005; Schneider 2002). Few studies of any kind have linked school design with the
human interactions that govern learning environments, and none drew substantive con-
clusions about how the use and configuration of instructional space frame teaching and
learning; Barker and Gump (1964), Martin (2002) and Moos (1979) touch lightly on the
subject. Learning environments research occasionally considers material aspects of edu-
cational settings, including the use of instructional materials and computers, but the field
has historically stressed the role of classroom dynamics in learning and has not closely
attended to school design as such (e.g. Doppelt 2006).
Owens and Valesky’s (2007, pp. 186–221) school climate model seems to be the only
model which adequately accounts for the relationship between school design, teaching and
learning. The model assumes an environmental approach, in that it foregrounds the role of
social, organisational and physical aspects of school settings as formative factors in the
educational process. Owens and Valesky suggest that the school environment is comprised
of four interconnected dimensions in Fig. 1.
Owens and Valesky thus posit that the school environment is a product of the interaction
between material, organisational and cultural elements, as well as student milieu. Many of
the interactions across these elements are reasonably intuitive. For example, one would
expect different teaching paradigms to be associated with certain cultural assumptions
about student motivation, pupil–teacher relations and so on. Unfortunately, because Owens
and Valesky do not really address the relationship between ecology and the other three
dimensions, the place of this part of their schema remains unsubstantiated. A closer look at
the four climate dimensions helps to clarify the role of ecology in school settings.
Organisation represents a core component of any school environment. Along these
lines, Lezotte and Jacoby (1990) argue that school-wide program coherency usually
depends on whether teachers are consistently supported by the principal, who plays an
important role by helping to coordinate a school’s program. In the absence of such lead-
ership, teachers are more inclined to adopt a highly personal approach to instruction and
discipline, which can then lead to ‘‘fragmentation of school curriculum and the school day,
poorly related or incompatible instructional strategies, inconsistent behavioral expecta-
tions, and a lack of shared values’’ (Aladjem and Borman 2006, p. 7). Aladjem and Borman

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Ecology:
Building design, technology and other
material elements

Staff culture: Organisation:

Assumptions, Teaching,
values, and scheduling
patterns of and curriculum
thought and
behaviour

Student milieu:
Learning and motivation,
social climate

Fig. 1 School climate model adapted from Owens and Valesky (2007)

point out that this kind of weak coherency often translates into low expectations for
students, as well as low performance and achievement.
Effective school organisation and program coherency are particularly important
whenever non-traditional programs are implemented, as is often the case in open-plan
schools. Unfamiliar practices might be quickly abandoned if they are inadequately sup-
ported by teachers and administrators, or if the district does not allocate the time, training
and financial resources required when instituting an unconventional program (Graue et al.
2007; Vernez and Goldhaber 2006; York-Barr et al. 2007; Zepeda and Mayers 2006). This
assertion is borne out by my case study research. Two of the schools which I studied
continue to operate as open-plan schools because they have a cohesive organisational
structure that can sustain unconventional practices. The third school, that does not have a
very cohesive organisational structure, has reverted to a more traditional program and a
classroom-based layout.
Staff culture refers to the ‘‘system of shared values and beliefs’’ that underpins school
organisation and behavioural norms (Owens and Valesky 2007, p. 191). These values and
beliefs guide assumptions about what is important and valid in terms of how schools are
governed, how students should be taught, and what they should be taught. Research on
school reform suggests that school culture should be aligned with school organisation, so
that organisational practices mesh with the values and beliefs held by teachers and
administrators. Otherwise, staff might feel that the school’s program is at odds with what is
educationally important and valid, or that the school’s behavioural norms are misguided.
Fullan (2001, pp. 137–150) accordingly argues that school practice is most effectively
managed when there is a rallying sense of purpose among staff. Culture holds organisa-
tional structure together, and brings a sense of collective purpose to diverse school
activities.

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Culture relates to ecology on two basic levels. First, different types of school design are
typically associated with certain approaches to teaching and learning which, in turn, are
linked with distinct cultural assumptions and values. My case study of the School of
Environmental Studies (SES) offers an example of the complementary relationship
between culture, design and school organisation. The study is examined in another article
(Gislason 2009a), so I will only briefly consider it here.
SES is a small public high school designed to support team teaching and an interdis-
ciplinary environmental studies curriculum. The main instructional spaces in the school are
large, open spaces known as houses. Each house can accommodate 100 students and is staffed
by a team of two to four instructors, depending on the exact number of students in each house
and on whether the teachers are full-time or part-time. Teachers must work as a team to
operate successfully in the house environment to ensure an orderly use of space and time
during the 3-hour period that students spend in their house each day. Learning activities,
content delivery and day-to-day scheduling all need to be managed collectively to avoid
conflicting uses of the space. As one teacher said, the open space ‘‘sort of forces’’ coteaching;
and another stated that there is no real way to ‘‘pull back’’ from the team because of the need
to co-manage space, time and instruction. Studies of coteaching have revealed that such
pressure to collaborate can lead to friction because staff are uncomfortable with the loss of
instructional autonomy, or because of difficulties in allocating responsibilities like planning
or assessment (Graue et al. 2007; York-Barr et al. 2007).
While several of the instructors whom I interviewed observed that these kinds of ten-
sions emerge at SES, all the teachers asserted that the benefits of teaming outweigh its
potential challenges. Two main advantages which they mentioned are that: sharing insights
into the learning style of individual students helps the team to personalise instruction; and
teaming joins the disciplinary strengths of each teacher and adds to the richness of the
curriculum. In all, the enthusiasm for coteaching among SES staff provides organisational
stability in the face of occasional interpersonal differences. In other words, staff culture
buttresses the school’s organisational framework, which itself is inextricably linked with
the teachers’ ecological context. The case of SES thus points to the importance of having a
basic fit between school culture, organisation and ecology, as all three elements are
interdependent aspects of the learning environment. The main case study presented in this
article, the High School for Recording Arts (HSRA), provides further evidence for this
interrelationship.
Culture also relates to school design on a systemic level. Elmore (2004) notes that
school districts, administrators and policy-makers share a general bias in favour of the
traditional classroom paradigm, and assume that ‘‘decisions about what should be taught at
any given time, [and how it] should be taught…resides in individual classrooms’’ (p. 46).
This classroom-centred notion of education is tied to what Tyack and Cuban (1995, p. 106)
call the ‘‘familiar grammar of schooling’’, which is predicated on the assumption that a
single teacher is in charge of a standard-size classroom (see also Woolner et al. 2005,
pp. 36–37). Given this systemic bias, it is only natural that the traditional classroom-based
layout dominates design discourse and practice. It also follows that an open-plan school
with a faltering non-traditional program would reflexively turn to the classroom model as a
time-tested alternative. This process is evident at the Inter District Downtown School
(IDDS), the third school in my doctoral study (Gislason 2009b).
Finally, my field research indicates that student milieu and school design interact, as
milieu shapes how students respond to their environment. For instance, open-plan designs
can be better suited to students who are relatively self-regulating than to students who are

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easily distracted, because open spaces contain few if any barriers to visual, noise and social
distractions (Ahrentzen and Evans 1984; Cotterell 1984). As one instructor at HSRA said:
If we had a gifted population,…we could probably teach with very few interruptions
or distractions…But, because we’re dealing with an at-risk population whose study
habits aren’t particularly good, [and] who have a lot of distractions outside the
school,…it makes it harder in an open-plan environment to keep those distractions to
a minimum and keep the academics on track.
This comment is consistent with what I observed at SES and IDDS. SES’s student body is
drawn from an academically high-performing demographic, and the students are adept at
maintaining focus and are motivated by a desire to perform academically. Consequently,
they tend not to engage in excessive off-task behaviour, though it would be relatively easy
to do so in such an open setting (Gislason 2009a). The school therefore has a positive
learning environment, with teachers and students who are satisfied with the school’s open
design. In contrast, teachers at IDDS often stated that they prefer the facility’s current
classroom-based layout over the previous open-plan design, because there are fewer
learning distractions and the school’s moderately at-risk students are better able to focus.
In summary, ecology, organisation, culture and milieu are complementary aspects of the
learning environment, with the success of a given design depending on whether these four
elements are logically aligned with one another. In general terms, this means that the
organisation of teaching, scheduling and curriculum should (1) reflect cultural values and
assumptions among staff and (2) be congruent with a school’s physical design. Moreover, a
school’s design and program should take students’ learning and environmental needs into
account.

Methodology

Owens and Valesky’s school climate model framed my field research. The model was
chosen mainly because it addresses the interaction between school design, teaching and
learning. There are other organisational models which recognise the material facet of
school settings, but they assume a narrow view of the material environment and do not
address school design in a larger sense. For example, Gamoran et al. (2000) restrict their
definition of physical resources to curriculum materials, equipment, and supplies (p. 47).
Ogawa et al. (2008) likewise define material resources merely as ‘‘physical instruments
that subjects employ in an activity’’, and they do not specify how the built environment
itself affects teaching and learning (p. 86).
I also chose the model because it offers a basis for qualitative research on school design.
The use of quantitative methods is well established in school environments and environ-
mental design research. Two standard quantitative tools in both fields are observational
scales and time sampling methods (Bennet et al. 1980; Fishbaugh 1997, pp. 43–62; Moore
1987; Peponis et al. 2007). These methods involve measuring the type, frequency and
intensity of certain behaviours within a given setting, in order to assess the effect of the
environment in constraining or promoting various activity patterns. While such methods
offer exact empirical measurement, they are time-consuming and of limited use in gath-
ering information about occupant intentions, perceptions and experiences. I elected to use
qualitative methods because of time constraints and because of my focus on context,
practice and experience. Further, because the schools selected for my study differ con-
siderably in their physical, organisational and social contexts, it would have been difficult

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or impossible to develop generalisations based on numerical data because of too many

confounding factors.
I concentrated my attention on qualitative methods which are often used in environ-
mental research, particularly behavioural observation. Zeisel (2006) explains:
Observing behavior means systematically watching people use their environ-
ments….What do they do? How do activities relate to one another spatially? And how
do spatial relations affect participants? At the same time, observers of environmental
behavior look at how a physical environment supports or interferes with behaviors
taking place within it…
Observing behavior in physical settings generates data about people’s activities and
the relationships needed to sustain them; about regularities of behavior; [and] about
expected uses, new uses, and misuses of a space… (p. 191)
Behavioural observation enabled me to collect data on (1) how a given school setting
facilitates or constrains program delivery, (2) occupant behaviour, (3) organisationally
structured interactions among participants and (4) the uses and ‘misuses’ of school space.
My observations were documented, organised and developed in field notes that recorded:
• the time and location of my observations
• the type of activity observed (lecture, group or individual work, play and so on)
• the frequency and/or intensity of observed activities
• comments made by occupants
• observed noise and traffic distraction
• observations regarding the building attributes most likely to affect academic
performance, such as indoor air quality, thermal comfort and lighting (Earthman
2004; Schneider 2002).
My notes included diagrams of seating arrangements which, along with my notes on
lesson content and delivery, offered a record of how instructional space was engaged
during lessons (Merriam 1998, pp. 106–111). Photographs provided an archive of the
schools’ instructional areas, offices, recreational and circulation spaces, building materials
and ornamental features. Floor plans were collected, as were the instructions for assign-
ments that were being completed during my observations. These materials together provide
a multidimensional record of the use of school space over time.
Semi-structured interviews were also important for my research. My interview ques-
tions were designed to elicit responses related to the four dimensions underlying Owens
and Valesky’s model. The interview questions included:
1. Questions related to ecology and organisation (for teachers): How well does the
school facility serve your purposes? Does the layout of the building support your
teaching activities, or are you constantly adjusting your activities because of
challenges related to the size, configuration and location of school spaces?
2. Questions related to organisation and culture (for teachers): What are the three or four
most important places in your school with respect to supporting learning among your
students? What kinds of academic, social and developmental needs do you see being
nurtured in these places? What assumptions about teaching and learning do teachers
share at this school?
3. Questions related to milieu (for students): How would you describe the relationship
between teachers and students here? How would you describe the relationship between
students at this school? How do you feel about the school’s design?

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The interviews were videotaped and later transcribed. Participants were recruited as
they came forward to volunteer. A substantial cross-section of participants was obtained.
Whenever I perceived gaps in the participant spectrum, I made sure that I spoke informally
with school occupants who would help to bridge the gap. I was careful to include teachers
from across disciplines and of varying levels of experience, so that a variety of perspec-
tives was represented. I recruited students from all grades at each school, except for IDDS
because time did not allow for student interviews.
The interviews yielded three types of information. First, the participants discussed how
they feel about, perceive or otherwise react to their school environment. This kind of data
casts light on how occupants ‘‘define a concrete situation, what they consider important
about it, [and] what effects they intended their actions to have in the situation’’ (Zeisel 2006,
p. 227). Without such information, the researcher can easily misread a behavioural pattern,
an activity or a situation. For example, a certain degree of apparently off-task behaviour can
be an accepted part of the learning process at one school (HSRA), while it could be
considered undesirable at another (IDDS). It is easy to draw uninformed conclusions, unless
one talks to staff and students about the expectations in place at a given school.
Second, the interviews explored the educational values, assumptions and beliefs at each
school. At HSRA, for instance, instructors expressed a shared belief in the importance of
extended individual work periods as a means of promoting independent learning skills and
self-motivation. The instructors thus highlighted the cultural assumptions about curriculum
and motivation that guide the school’s program.
Third, the interviews helped me to understand each school’s organisational structure and
history. To cite one example, teachers at IDDS often noted that administrative changeover
has had a destabilising effect on the school’s program, as fluctuation at the leadership level
has resulted in some uncertainty about the school’s educational philosophy and approach.
The teachers’ signalling of this issue focused my attention on the significance of organi-
sational instability at the school, and prompted me to delve specifically into this area in the
interviews.
At SES, I interviewed the principal, five teachers and eight students over a total of 16 days
at the school. These semi-structured interviews averaged approximately 45 minutes per
person and generated 58 double-spaced pages of transcribed text. The interviews comple-
mented 50 hours of direct observation. I followed a similar process at HSRA, where
I interviewed the program director, six teachers and seven students over 15 school days.
These interviews, which averaged about 30 minutes per teacher and 25 minutes per student,
were shorter than at SES because teachers had less free time and students provided less
extensive replies. The interviews were distilled into 41 double-spaced pages of transcribed
text. I conducted 45 hours of direct observation at the school. The same methods were
deployed at IDDS, which constitutes a more limited, supplemental study. I interviewed three
teachers and the principal over four school days, and conducted 16 hours of direct obser-
vation. The teacher interviews averaged 40 minutes, and the interview with the principal
lasted 30 minutes. Fifteen double-spaced pages of selected transcribed text were generated.
The transcripts were analysed following a three-stage process. I first examined the
transcripts on a school-by-school basis, and identified passages that address each of
the four dimensions in Owens and Valesky’s model. This process allowed me to trace the
salient aspects of each element within individual schools. I also cross-checked the inter-
view data with my observational data, in order to identify inaccuracies in either my
observations or in participant statements. I found no substantive, factual discontinuity
between what I observed and what participants reported. Transcript coding was undertaken
by hand, by marking the text with abbreviations for the four dimensions. At this stage,

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I focused on identifying sections that point to common themes and perceptual patterns
across participant responses, as I was interested in group-level, organisational phenomena
as opposed to individual responses.
Second, I identified passages that touch on the interaction between the four dimensions
within each school. For example, I compared the instructors’ and the students’ statements
about the effects of school curriculum on student motivation. Thus, the interaction between
culture, organisation and milieu was examined from two different perspectives.
Finally, I conducted a cross-case analysis, where I focused on continuities across
schools in terms of how the four dimensions interact. This third stage focused on expla-
nation-building (Yin 2003, pp. 120–122). My central conclusions are outlined later in this
article.

Case study: High School for Recording Arts

The research findings are reported here in five parts, namely, school context (background
information about the school), ecology and organisation, culture, milieu (different aspects
of the relationship between design, teaching and learning) and a summary.

School context

High School for Recording Arts (HSRA) is a Grade 9–12 charter school that serves at-risk
youth. One way in which it reaches out to this population is by offering academic courses
in music production and promotion, as well as other facets of the urban music business.
Music is a core part of the school’s mission, which was conceived by the rap artist David
Ellis in the early 1990s. Ellis believed that a music-based curriculum would inspire stu-
dents by drawing on their interest in urban music and culture. Under Ellis’s guidance,
HSRA was established as a pilot program in 1996, and opened as an independent charter
school in 1998. The school now occupies the ground floor of a renovated warehouse in St.
Paul (see http://minnesota.hsra.org/about/ for details).
HSRA enrols some of Minneapolis–St. Paul’s most disadvantaged youth. The most
recent data posted by the United States Department of Education indicates that, in 2005–
2006, 85% of the school’s 229 students were African American (National Centre for
Education Statistics 2008). Most of the remaining population was split between Hispanics
(6%) and white non-Hispanics (7%). The school’s director estimated that 30–60% of the
students are homeless at any given time, and that over 80% of them live in poverty. The
general instability in the students’ lives is mirrored in their enrolment patterns. Approxi-
mately 350 students enrol each year, but history has shown that about 150 of these students
leave or are de-enrolled because of insufficient attendance. The school accepts students up
to and including the age of 20 years. For many older students, the school is one of the few
remaining options for earning a secondary school diploma.
The school has adopted project-based learning as a central component of its curriculum;
students choose a topic which interests them, research the topic and present their findings.
The final projects are formally assessed and diploma credits are granted on the basis of the
application of mathematics, science, social studies, Language Arts and arts skills. Grad-
uation also requires that students pass Minnesota’s Basic Standards Tests in mathematics,
reading and writing. In this way, students are able to personalise their program and develop
academic skills, while fulfilling state requirements.

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The school’s advisory system adds a further element of personalisation. Most of the
students’ scheduled time consists of extended individual work periods, during which
students can work one-on-one with their assigned staff advisor. Students generally meet
with their advisor once or twice a week to discuss their project, usually for 15–30 minutes
at a time. The advisor–student meetings often branch into discussions about external issues
that might be affecting the students’ performance or well-being. Therefore, there is a
counselling component to the advisor–student relationship that is not typical of traditional
teacher–student arrangements.

Ecology and organisation

The school’s layout is illustrated in Fig. 2. The advisory area is in the central part of the
school. Six advisors, each based in one pod, are situated in this space (Figs. 3, 4). Four
other advisors are located in classrooms scattered throughout the school. Each pod is
composed of four to five segments, with up to six students seated in one segment. My
counts indicate that there are usually around 14 students in attendance per pod, and so there
is ample seating area. Students do not have assigned seats within their pod. Industrial-style
corrugated sheeting is used to fashion low dividers between pod segments.
The pods do not support co-ordinated group work or team teaching, but instead are
designed to facilitate individual project-based learning and to maintain some proximity
between the advisor and the advisees. Group work and lecturing are not easily conducted in
the pods because the corrugated dividers separate students into small, visually self-con-
tained units. As a result, some advisors use the space between pods to provide classroom-
type lessons, as shown in Fig. 5.

Fig. 2 Floor plan

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Fig. 3 Entrance between

pods 2 and 3

Fig. 4 Pod segment

(teacher’s space)

Fig. 5 Seating between pods

Several advisors wished that the pods were more internally open and that there were
more classroom-type spaces available in the school, so that they could manage group
lessons or lectures more easily. In this regard, one advisor said: ‘‘In some ways [the pod]
works and in some ways it’s difficult. It works because, when you’re sitting down, it’s real
private. But, at the same time, it’s not big enough to do stuff as a group.’’ Another advisor
reported that she had proposed to have one of her internal dividers removed so she would:
…have a better space so that I can meet with my students as a group more often,
because that would help the community of our advisory a little more. And it will also
help me during quiet reading…[because] I can’t see all the advisory, and it’s not until
I hear something [that I can re-focus] students.

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The program director echoed the general feeling that the pods do not offer adequate group
space, and noted that the spaces between advisories do not provide enough visual and
acoustical isolation for focused content delivery.
While the design of the pods places constraints on group work and lecturing, such
activities form a limited part of the school’s program. Only one of the five-and-half hours
of the daily schedule is dedicated to classroom-type work in the advisory area. The
remaining time follows a flexible format, with students working on their personal project or
attending for-credit classes in one of the dedicated classroom spaces. These classes include
music performance, production and recording workshops, alongside more traditional
courses. The students’ schedules are individualised in that students are more or less free to
structure their own schedule, as long as they meet course and graduation requirements.
The organisation of teaching, scheduling and curriculum at HSRA directly informs the
use of school space. There is no distinct head or centre of activity within the advisory area,
as there is in a traditional classroom setting. There are instead six sub-centres of activity—
the pods—which are loosely coupled with the general activity in the advisory area at any
given moment. This is not to suggest that what happens in the advisory area is necessarily
disorganised or unstructured, but rather that it is atomistic because student activity is
individually driven. The main contact between advisors and advisees is one-on-one, and
students largely structure their own time and movement within the school. Therefore, the
use of space and time in the advisory area is more fluid than in a conventional classroom.
All of the staff whom I interviewed stressed that spatial and temporal flexibility are
integral to HSRA’s project-based model. Students are expected to assume primary control
over their work process and, for this reason, are given the independence required to
manage their own time. The advisors serve mainly as facilitators rather than classroom
teachers, and guide students through a four-stage process in which students (1) develop a
research question, (2) outline, revise and draft a project, (3) present the final project and (4)
reflect on their work.
The advisors consistently reported that the relatively long period of time that they spend
with individual students allows them to teach students how to structure and reflect on their
work. The advisors also all said that this extended dialogue supports the development of
stable advisor–student relationships that, in turn, foster student motivation. As one advisor
put it:
Here you have the flexibility to offer as much time as the student may demand of
you….All too often, the students’ success—or lack thereof—in the classroom is
symbolic of challenges outside of the school that, in the traditional system, the
teachers don’t really have the time [to address]. And we do have that time, we have
that flexibility…to talk about things that may not have immediate impact on class,
but could be significant to motivating them…
This linkage between the quality of advisor–student relationships and student success was
highlighted by almost every staff member whom I interviewed. In addition, the advisors
universally observed that the students’ personal and family situations are frequently
unstable, and that the advisors often provide stability and guidance for students who lack
supportive figures in their lives.
There is an architectural fit, then, between the design of the advisory area and the pods,
and teaching, mentoring, scheduling and curriculum at HSRA. However, my own obser-
vations, along with comments from several advisors, suggest that the design of the pods
and the facility’s layout hinder the management of school space. One critical issue is that
the pods are not visually or acoustically enclosed. As a result, students working in pods can

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be pulled away from their work by passing traffic or by other students in the pod. The
director remarked that moderate traffic between pods is fairly common and that, in some
instances, this is ‘‘hard to manage’’ because of the proximity of pods.
Kathy Angstrom, an advisor, noted that noise and traffic are most problematic when one
or more of the six advisors situated in the main space are teaching in a classroom:
It’s loud out there no matter what, and so it’s distracting; and it’s also hard to do one-
on-one and concentrate on the student when there’s not enough staff on the
floor….Every time there’s a class, that means there’s one or more staff advisors off
the floor…instead of on the floor to manage their advisory.
Don Grey, one of the advisors qualified as a Special Education instructor, emphasised a
different set of challenges involved in monitoring the advisory area:
It’s real difficult to have an advisory, and be a Special Education teacher, and teach
music classes. My class is a music class, and so I’m in a studio a lot. When I’m in the
studio, I have to leave my advisory. And, like I said, Special Education kids want you
there. They need somebody there, or otherwise they don’t feel that they need to get
the work done….I want to be in both places at the same time, but I can’t. It’s a
juggling act.
This kind of spatial juggling act stems from the co-existence of two heterogeneous types of
instructional space within the school: advisory space which, for the most part, is open and
flexibly scheduled; and classroom space, which is enclosed and rigidly scheduled. This
heterogeneous mix of spaces and activities places its own stresses on the learning
environment at HSRA, as advisors are sometimes pulled away from the advisory area.
Finally, the relatively active and free movement of student traffic further complicates
the management of school space. I observed that student traffic circles through the Media
Room (Fig. 6) and the advisory area throughout the day. The Media Room, a large room
that contains two advisories but no pods, effectively serves as an extension to the main
advisory area.
Although the advisory area and the Media Room are partially separated by a hallway,
traffic can flow easily through the two areas. The advisors in the Media Room exert some
control over social activity in their area, but this control is limited. Again, students are
expected to be more or less self-motivated and are not closely monitored. It would be
difficult to maintain tight supervision in any event, because student socialising is spread out
over two discrete spaces: students can simply leave the Media Room for the advisory area,
or vice versa.

Fig. 6 Media room

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In summary, the design of the pods and the layout of the building present definite
challenges: social behaviour is facilitated by the advisory area’s visual and acoustical
openness, while surveillance is hindered by the dispersal of instructional space throughout
the school and by heterogeneous scheduling patterns. While HSRA’s design dovetails with
the advisory system’s spatial needs, the ongoing presence of traffic and noise places real
pressure on the program. The design thus simultaneously supports advisory work and
somewhat constrains it.

Culture

Advisors generally work independently. However, the advisory area’s open plan demands
a significant level of collaboration. The advisor Carl Brown stated:
In a regular school, you have your classroom and that’s your domain; and you set the
boundaries, you set the atmosphere…[and] it’s a very controlled environ-
ment….Here, you don’t really have your own environment—it’s the entire school,
and we’re working within that environment. So we need all the staff members to
collaborate together because, if you don’t, it’s absolute chaos….In an environment
like ours,…if there are even the smallest differences between staff and they start
becoming visible, then everything gets crazy out there. So, even when we disagree,
we have to learn to live with that and go on with what we agreed as a group….The
school environment comes first, and you have to work within it.
Carl’s response highlights how the advisory area’s open design creates a common
instructional space. The lack of visual and acoustical boundaries, combined with the
students’ freedom of movement, throws the advisory space open and blurs the spatial
divisions between pods. Students can therefore easily pick up on differences between
instructional approaches, which can then lead to confusion or even ‘chaos’. Consequently,
advisors must maintain an adequate level of agreement about curriculum delivery, much as
teachers working in a team must collaborate to maintain group cohesion.
HSRA advisors in fact do share certain values and beliefs which support consensus
regarding educational practice. One core assumption is that a one-on-one instructional
approach is critical for the school’s educational program. Kerri May echoed several other
advisors in saying that the program would fail ‘‘without the advisory system and the
relationship that we build with students in our advisories’’. Several other advisors observed
that an essential part of their work consists of building relationships with students, so that
they can establish trust and help students to resolve personal issues that are hindering their
success at school.
I was often told by advisors that the element of personal engagement built into the
advisory system requires a certain kind of teacher: one who is capable of grasping the
students’ needs and providing consistent and genuine support, even though the students
might not always be receptive. In this regard, Don stated that ‘‘it’s more than being a good
teacher here—it’s about the heart, soul….[If] you have heart and soul, and you’re willing
to make those connections, willing to be patient, you can make it here. You have to believe
in the program.’’ This belief in the value of the advisory system and in the interpersonal
connections that flow from it was universally cited as a major reason that the advisors
support the school’s educational model. Advisors also expressed a shared belief in the
value of project-based learning, and underlined two reasons for why they consider it a good
model. First, the students are more inclined to work on a project that stems from their own
interests. Second, project-based learning demands higher-order thinking and the

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development of independent learning skills. Overall, the advisors indicated that the
advisor–student relationship forms the bedrock for student motivation and success and, in
this sense, is the most salient feature of the school’s program. Project-based learning,
meanwhile, was viewed as a sound curricular approach that operates hand-in-glove with
the advisory system.
It is evident that the advisors’ mutual commitment to the school’s program facilitates
agreement about curriculum delivery and overrides the frustrations that can arise from
working within an-open plan environment, including the loss of personal control over
teaching space (an issue noted by three advisors). If the advisors did not share the values
and beliefs underlying the program, they probably would not persist in a physical setting
that supports the advisory system over and against classroom-style teaching. As Carl
remarked: ‘‘You either buy into it or you leave.’’

Milieu

Students, like the advisors, occasionally expressed mixed feelings about the school’s built
environment. On the positive side of the equation, the students appreciated the freedom
that they are given to structure their own schedules and to move around the school. Most of
the students whom I interviewed mentioned that they were drawn to the school partly
because of the advisory system and project-based learning, which allow them to be
‘‘creative’’ (Vince) and to pursue topics ‘‘that you want to learn about’’ (Divine). Students
also like working at their own pace, which enables them to quickly earn credits or take
additional time to develop a project. Most of the students stressed that the considerable
amount of time spent by them with their advisors engenders supportive relationships that
help to motivate them and keep them on track in, and outside of, school. Finally, several
students said that they value the school’s emphasis on one-on-one coaching, because
advisors take the time to explain concepts and guide their projects.
However, students observed that it is easy to become distracted by social activity at the
school:
Tara: A lot of kids move around doing nothing…and, if you have classes, you sit
down.

Vince: I like this school—but, to me, sometimes what I don’t like about this school is
that it’s very easy for you not to do anything. It’s very easy for you to just waste an
hour…because it’s so small and it’s a limited area [so it’s easy to socialise].

Divine: You can just walk around…[and] go to the bathroom, talk to somebody, go
back to your work, and do basically what you want….[Author: Is it easy for you to
stay focused here?] If you want to get something done, yeah. Otherwise, so-so.
Taken together, these comments touch on the central challenge built into the school’s
design: the open space, combined with the flexible schedule and the small size of the
school, encourages socialising, noise and traffic, and therefore requires students to be self-
motivated. Students without such intrinsic motivation are easily distracted from their work.
Students were split over whether or not they wanted more classroom-type space. Three
of the seven students whom I interviewed (Tara, Vince and Tom) expressed a desire for
more enclosed spaces as a way to reduce the level of social roaming. But none of them
wanted to move to a traditional schedule or layout. They instead wanted rooms available
for either advisory work or a supervised study hall period, to reduce noise and traffic while

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retaining as much student independence as possible. Other students (Bryan, Devon and
Stan) either did not want their ability to move around limited by classroom walls, or felt
that students should develop independent learning skills and that a traditional classroom
setting would not foster these skills. The seventh student was neutral.
All of the students whom I interviewed indicated that their independence and the
opportunity to socialise are important motivators at the school. Divine observed that:
It’s good that they have that [freedom] for kids who are…hyperactive and gotta
move around all the time….This school is basically for kids who need a little more
freedom because, if they were in a regular high school, they would be kicked out, and
[then] they wouldn’t know what they need to do and they wouldn’t even be going to
school….If they didn’t have that freedom, the kids would go crazy. But they don’t
have too much freedom…because they are still strict, really strict. Especially when it
comes to quiet reading and quiet math, you have to be in advisory.
My own observations indicate that only about half of the students end up in their advisory
during quiet reading and mathematics—but this rate is perhaps in line with the students’
attendance patterns at previous schools. In any case, students often emphasised that they
are drawn to HSRA because of the independence granted to them. By extension, significant
constraints on their independence could push many of the students out of HSRA, and
potentially out of school altogether.

Summary

HSRA’s physical design is successful in many ways. First, there is a basic structural fit
between the design of the advisory area and the school’s educational program. The pods
provide a space where students can work individually or meet with their advisor; and the
surrounding space allows students to move freely, which is in keeping with flexible
scheduling and independent learning—two key aspects of the curriculum. Furthermore, the
open space and the school’s compact interior encourage social activity and thus a sense of
community. Most of the staff and students suggested that there is a supportive social
climate at the school, that is built on regular contact among advisors and students. Finally,
the compact and open layout enables advisors to keep a quiet eye on student activity. This
kind of casual monitoring is more informal than traditional classroom teaching, and is
consistent with the notion of the advisor as a coach rather than a classroom authority.
At the same time, there are significant drawbacks to the school’s design. While the pods
are broadly suited to the advisory system, their design is moderately flawed. Their seg-
mentation into separate units precludes co-ordinated group work, and the spaces between
pods are of limited use for group work and lectures. In addition, advisors are not able to
easily monitor student activity within the pods, as they cannot see over the dividers when
they are sitting. Noise and traffic from the surrounding space flow quite freely into the pods,
which is of particular concern because of the ongoing social activity at the school. HSRA’s
design thus simultaneously supports the school’s program and somewhat hinders it.
Overall, HSRA’s open-design facilitates student independence rather than behavioural
constraint. This tilt towards individual freedom is in line with the values, assumptions and
objectives underlying the school’s program. Nonetheless, many of the staff and students
expressed an interest in modifying the school’s design to better enable regulation of student
activity, although none of the participants wished to move to an entirely classroom-based
layout. The teachers’ and students’ occasional ambivalence regarding the design arguably
reflects deeper questions about teaching and learning at the school. To what extent should

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noise and traffic be tolerated? At what point should social activity be considered excessive?
How much off-task behaviour is acceptable? The interest in change points to the fact that
the HSRA design is in certain respects a work-in-progress.

Conclusion

Owens and Valesky’s model highlights the linkage between design, organisation, culture
and milieu. The case study findings presented here support this framework, and suggest
that school design should be viewed as part of a network of elements that together shape
the learning environment. At HSRA, the connection between these elements is especially
evident in the relationship between the school’s educational program and its architectural
design. The pods and the open layout are designed to facilitate flexible scheduling, the
advisory system and other program features. Ecology is therefore purposefully aligned
with organisation, which itself is aligned with staff culture. Student milieu further informs
the learning environment. HSRA students are drawn from an at-risk population and are
relatively sensitive to distractions such as noise, traffic and social activity. As a result, the
physically porous nature of the pods and the open design lead to obvious difficulties in
managing the learning environment.
One way to address the challenges inherent in HSRA’s design would be to convert the
school to a standard classroom-based layout and to adopt a conventional curriculum.
However, such a shift would be out of step with the staff’s commitment to the existing
program. Kathy expressed the general feeling among staff in saying:
When people start having issues with the open space, and the kids mill around
because they don’t necessarily want to be where they’re supposed to be,…[then the
reaction is to say] let’s put them in classes!…That’s not what we are, that’s not what
we do.
Staff culture at HSRA in this way supports the open plan concept over and against
traditional classrooms: culture thus informs ecology. Moreover, constraining student
independence probably would have an impact on student motivation, as most students at
the school value their control over individual projects, scheduling and daily activities.
The intricate relationship between ecology, organisation, culture and milieu at HSRA
reflects the complex nature of the learning environment at any school, as a school’s built
environment inevitably interacts with school organisation, culture and student dynamics.
Further case study research on the nature of these interactions would provide architects and
educators with practical, evidence-based information about how these elements can be
aligned to ensure a positive learning environment over the long run. Essential research
questions in this regard include:
• What is a school’s educational philosophy? What values and assumptions are
embedded in its culture? How does the school’s educational model envision teaching,
learning and the role of administration?
• Does the use and configuration of instructional space match educational practice at the
school? How effectively does the physical setting serve its intended purpose? How do
various design features serve certain educative ends?
• To what extent do milieu dynamics (motivation, social climate and so on) reflect the
intentions underlying the school’s cultural assumptions, educational practices and use
of instructional space?

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• How, and to what extent, is the school’s program supported by organisational factors
such as teacher training, curricular materials, planning time and administrative
backing?
It would probably be best if researchers moved through these questions more or less in
the order in which they are listed, so that they gain an understanding of the cultural
principles that drive a school’s program before attempting to grasp how a school’s setting
helps or hinders program delivery.
While school design research faces several challenges in moving forward, including a
lack of research on the educational practices in place in many unconventionally-designed
schools, it has a number of established resources on which to draw (Applebee et al. 2007;
Barron et al. 1998; Hackman 2004; York-Barr et al. 2007; Zepeda and Mayers 2006).
Learning environments research has produced an array of instruments for assessing
classroom environments that can measure the degree to which program and design features
have led to intended milieu effects (Fraser 1998). Research on school effectiveness
meanwhile offers insight into how organisational change can be properly implemented,
which is of value because of the role played by school organisation in the effective
deployment of instructional settings and in program maintenance (Elmore 2004; Fullan
2001; Lezotte and Jacoby 1990).
School environments research holds considerable potential as a vehicle for expanding
and improving the range of design options now available to architects and educators. I
would argue that Owens and Valesky’s model offers a useful theoretical springboard for
such research, because design, organisation, culture and milieu are vital aspects of the
learning environment and their combined role should be addressed. I would also submit
that researchers can help to encourage evidence-based architectural innovation by pro-
moting a more comprehensive view of the learning environment than is usually found in
current education research.

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