Every school can take meaningful steps to reimagine its spaces through the lens of care

We often accept poor school environments as “normal.” Temporary portable classrooms. Windowless spaces. Asphalt-coated playgrounds. These conditions are so common and rarely provoke outrage, yet they deeply affect how students feel, learn, and grow.

What if we began by imagining something better?

A library filled with natural light and comfortable seating options can become a quiet refuge for a student navigating trauma. A shaded courtyard acts as the backdrop for spontaneous mentorship and connection across grade levels. A classroom that opens onto a shared learning commons invites collaboration over competition, helping students draw on one another’s strengths. As an architectural designer at Architecture for Education (A4E), these are real spaces I’ve seen change lives—not just through what they contain, but through how they were conceived: as acts of care.

When I published my children’s book We Want a School! back in 2021, I hoped to help young people and the adults who engage with them to recognize that students have a powerful voice in shaping the spaces where they learn. The story, based on real conversations with children about their dream school, follows a group of fifth-grade students who speak up and design a school that reflects their values, identities, and hopes for the future. What I didn’t expect was how often educators, parents, and even design professionals would say: “I’ve never thought about the power of conceptualizing a school this way before.”

Room for Improvement

The reaction reminded me how school buildings are often overlooked in the public realm. We measure learning by test scores, not by whether students feel safe, accomplished, seen, and supported in the environments where they spend most of their waking hours. But schools are not just buildings for delivering curriculum. They are cultural institutions, social ecosystems, and architectural expressions of what we value as a society. The design of a school shapes how students live, relate, and belong in their communities. It can either support—or undermine—their holistic well-being.

Many schools face overcrowded classrooms, inadequate facilities, and under-resourced staff stretched beyond capacity. In this context, the design of learning environments isn’t just about aesthetics, it’s a powerful lever for healing, belonging, and resilience. It becomes a matter of public health: of creating environments where students can thrive.

As an architectural designer specializing in educational facilities, I’ve worked on campuses across the United States that are reimagining what school can be—often starting with a simple but radical idea: listen to students. Through long-term planning and design partnerships with districts like Rio School District and Lake Elsinore Unified School District, I’ve witnessed how student voice can shape not just a building, but an entire community’s vision for learning.

From Aspiration to Built Form

At Rio School District in Oxnard, California, the team at Architecture for Education (A4E) has led both master planning and architectural design projects rooted in deep community engagement. Students, educators, and families were not only invited to contribute, they helped define the design priorities for new and renovated spaces across multiple campuses. One project in particular, for example, was a brand-new K–8 campus that would embody the District’s forward-thinking approach to STEAM education, shaped by student conversations around connection, creativity, curiosity, and care. Their insights directly informed design moves like outdoor learning spaces, team teaching environments, and inclusive areas for reflection and collaboration.

Similarly, at Lake Elsinore Unified School District (LEUSD) in California, a comprehensive master plan, developed through extensive workshops with students, teachers, and district leaders, is now serving as the foundation for impactful school design projects across the district, aiming to provide equitable and dignified learning spaces for all. These tools are helping translate bold aspirations into built form, ensuring that every new project reflects the real needs and values of the people it serves.

We know from decades of research what good design can do. Access to daylight and views of nature reduce stress and improve focus. Excellent acoustics and air quality positively impact cognition and behavior. Flexible, student-centered spaces promote agency and engagement. But beyond the data, design tells a story—about who belongs, who is heard, and what is possible.

Too often, due to systemic disinvestment, both financial and human, the environments students experience daily tell a very different story: one of neglect rather than care, of compliance rather than possibility. These are spaces that say: you don’t matter enough to be heard, let alone designed for.

Fortunately, there are communities refusing to become a chapter in that story. In places like Oxnard and Lake Elsinore, students and families are co-creating environments that affirm their values and beliefs about what learning should feel like. This kind of design isn’t just good pedagogy: it’s good policy. When students are invited to shape their environments, they feel a deeper sense of ownership and care over their learning. When schools are designed with wellness in mind, students feel safer and more capable of thriving. This isn’t about open floor plans or the latest innovations in furniture and technology. It’s about aligning the physical environment with the emotional, social, and developmental needs of the people inside it.

Not an Architectural Afterthought

Of course, not every school has the budget for a full renovation or new construction. But every school can take meaningful steps to reimagine its spaces through the lens of care. A reading nook in a hallway. A colorful mural that reflects student identities. Outdoor seating beneath a tree. These are all small, intentional interventions I’ve seen across schools—acts of design that communicate something powerful: you matter here.

That’s what I’ve come to realize my book We Want a School! is really about. It’s not a school filled with slides or futuristic tech—it’s a school that listens. A school that sees its students as co-creators and citizens. A school where design is an act of love and empowerment.

As we look to the future of education, we must match bold ideas with bold environments. We can’t continue treating school buildings as architectural afterthoughts. They are instruments of culture—capable of either uplifting or constraining the communities they serve. The call to action is clear for architects, educators, policymakers, and everyone invested in learning: let’s build schools that speak to possibility, affirm identity, and nurture well-being.

Let’s make space for joy, connection, and wonder. Because every child deserves a school that helps them feel at home in the world—and powerful within it. 

Enrico Giori is an architectural designer at Architecture for Education (A4E) in Pasadena, California and the author of We Want a School! Vogliamo una scuola, recipient of the Loris Malaguzzi International Prize. A graduate of the Rhode Island School of Design (BArch/BFA), Enrico is passionate about participatory planning and co-design strategies, which he actively integrates into his architectural practice. His work explores the intersection of design and community building, with an emphasis on inclusive processes that engage all stakeholders—from conceptual ideation through final development—making architecture more responsive, accessible, and meaningful for all.