My Action Research Project involved substantial qualitative data collection: two focus group sessions, one group semi-structured interview and six individual semi-structured interviews, totalling over five hours of recorded dialogue. Given the compressed timeline of this ARP, I made the pragmatic decision to use AI transcription software to convert audio recordings into text.
To mitigate accuracy concerns, I adopted a verification process, where I listened back to all audio recordings in full, cross-referencing against the AI-generated transcripts to correct misattributed speakers and mishearings. This was particularly critical for the focus group discussions where multiple student voices overlapped, and for moments where students used discipline-specific architectural terminology that AI software frequently misinterpreted. I also manually cleaned all transcripts to remove automated timestamp markers and formatting inconsistencies, ensuring readability whilst preserving the authentic flow of conversation.
This hybrid approach, AI for initial transcription, human verification for accuracy, allowed me to balance methodological rigour with practical time constraints. The AI tool provided a foundation, but the quality of my analysis ultimately depended on my own careful listening, contextual understanding, and reflexive engagement with participants’ voices.
However, I want to acknowledge the methodological limitations of transcribing. Whilst automated transcription tools offer speed and efficiency, they lack the nuance, tone, and contextual understanding inherent in human conversation. Transcripts, be it manually or with AI, cannot capture hesitations, emotional shifts, laughter, or the pauses that often signal deeper reflection. All of these are elements that matter when analysing how students develop consciousness around discussion topics, such as inclusive design. As Braun and Clarke (2022) acknowledge, transcription is itself an interpretive act; what we choose to capture shapes what becomes analysable data.
A learning from my ARP, if I sought further research, would be allowing for more time to consider how I interpret conversations for analysis and how to share conversations beyond transcripts, but as engaging and knowledgeable content.
Please refer to ARP Blogs 4, 5, 6 and 7 for attached transcripts.
References
Braun, V. and Clarke, V. (2022) Thematic Analysis: A Practical Guide. London: SAGE Publications.
This action research project began with a troubling observation documented in Blog 1: my first-year architecture students dismissed accessible design features as elements that “ruined” their designs, revealing a fundamental consciousness gap between the BA Architecture course’s stated commitment to social justice and students’ emerging design practice. Now, having facilitated two focus group workshops and interviews with six students and conducted comparative conversations with three previous year students, I can conclude that small-scale pedagogical interventions can create meaningful shifts in how students understand inclusive design, but only when specific conditions are met.
The research question asked how ethically led debates, grounded in lived experience and case study reflection, might support students in developing greater awareness of inclusive approaches to design. The findings demonstrate that consciousness development requires three interconnected pedagogical conditions: brave spaces created through small-group formats, authentic encounter with lived experience through relevant case study material, and embodied perspective-taking through role-play. Each methodology served distinct purposes. Small groups enabled every voice to contribute, creating environments where students feel simultaneously safe and gently obligated to engage (Arao and Clemens, 2013). Case study videos featuring disabled people speaking for themselves provided what Wilson (2021) terms disorienting moments that challenged students’ compliance-based understanding of accessibility. Role play proved transformative, moving students from individualising blame to recognising structural constraints, the systems-level thinking critical pedagogy seeks to develop (Hooks, 1994).
This diagram reflects on the content of my ARP question, identifying from my analysis, what was and was not successful, and where more testing is required.
What surprised me most was not simply that these methods worked, but that students themselves articulated the demand for this learning. During interviews, they compared these sessions favourably to large lectures, identifying precisely what the format afforded them: space for reflection, an obligation to formalise opinions, and exposure to perspectives beyond their own. Previous year students reinforced this, describing how the lack of pedagogical support led them to “dismiss and consider it a constraint.” This isn’t my assumption about what students need; their voices validate both the gap in current provision and their hunger for deeper engagement with inclusive design as ethical practice rather than technical requirement.
Comparative analysis demonstrating differences in language and understanding between current and previous years’ students, as well as affirming the desire for knowledge among both groups.
My research has highlighted the disconnect between institutional intentions and pedagogical reality. The BA Architecture manifesto explicitly centres social justice, yet students described inclusive design as being “grouped in with other things” during time-pressured lectures, positioned as secondary rather than fundamental. What this intervention demonstrated is that holding space, deliberately creating conditions for brave conversations, uncomfortable perspective-taking, and genuine encounter with difference, can bridge that gap. Boys (2014) argues that conventional approaches to accessibility reinforce ableist assumptions by treating disability as a deviation from a norm. The consciousness shift documented here suggests students can move beyond this when given appropriate scaffolding.
Critically, this study’s limitations must be acknowledged. Participants volunteered, indicating existing openness that created conditions more conducive to transformation than might be found with resistant students. The small scale and compressed project timeframe limit generalisability. Future iterations must address how to reach students who, like some previous year participants, actively resist inclusive design discourse or view it cynically. The challenge becomes: how do we scale these intimate, time-intensive methods while preserving their transformative potential?
My next steps involve embedding these pedagogical approaches more systematically within studio teaching and testing whether role-play and case-study methods can be integrated into project briefs rather than existing as separate interventions. I aim to work with students, including those who view inclusive design as a constraint, to understand whether brave space conditions can create openness even among the resistant. The action research cycle continues: this intervention has proven that consciousness can shift, but the work of making such shifts systematic and sustainable has only just begun.
The limitations in my role as an hourly-paid lecturer are apparent. Therefore, I have begun conversations with the stage 1 leader and some fellow tutors to gauge peer reflection. The response to my research has been positive, and the stage 1 leader is keen to help me develop an approach to take to senior teams to explore how we can create space to hold these conversations throughout the course.
McNiff (2002) reminds us that action research is iterative, each cycle informing the next. Whilst my ARP cycle diagram addresses opportunities for iteration, it also looks at an aspirational vision, and I say, why not?! After all, it’s big thinking that makes the radical change our course manifesto desires!
Researchers ARP Cycle Diagram – Sometimes the chaos of research, process and reflections just needs to be splashed onto a page.
This project concludes by opening new questions about scalability and reaching beyond the already convinced. What remains clear is that students have both the capacity and the desire for this learning; our responsibility as educators is to hold space for it to happen.
References
Arao, B. and Clemens, K. (2013) ‘From Safe Spaces to Brave Spaces: A New Way to Frame Dialogue Around Diversity and Social Justice’, in Landreman, L. M. (ed.) The Art of Effective Facilitation: Reflections From Social Justice Educators. Sterling, VA: Stylus Publishing, pp. 135–150.
Boys, J. (2014) Doing Disability Differently: An Alternative Handbook on Architecture, Dis/ability and Designing for Everyday Life. London: Routledge.
Hooks, B. (1994) Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom. New York: Routledge.
McNiff, J. (2002) Action Research for Professional Development: Concise Advice for New Action Researchers. 3rd edn. Available at: http://www.jeanmcniff.com/ar-booklet.asp (Accessed: 1 December 2025).
Wilson, J. (2021) A Contemplative Pedagogy: Reflection and Presence in Learning. Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing.
Following two focus group workshops, six semi-structured interviews with first-year students, and an exploratory conversation with my previous-year students, I engaged in reflexive thematic analysis (Braun and Clarke, 2022): coding transcripts for moments when students articulated shifts in understanding, expressed emotional responses, or grappled with tensions. I also analysed documentation (Bowen, 2009) of free-writing samples and student notes during the workshops for changes in critical thinking across sessions.
My analysis must account for participant self-selection: all students volunteered themselves and demonstrated existing interest in inclusive design. This self-selection created conditions for learning that must be acknowledged when interpreting these findings.
Three interconnected themes emerged: pedagogical environments that enable brave spaces, the transformative potential of role-play for systems thinking, and the shift from compliance-based to consciousness-driven understanding of inclusive design.
Small group size proved fundamental. Student 1 articulated: “You can’t be passive… you’re always thinking of a response to try and put into the conversation,” contrasting with lectures where, as Student 3 noted, “everyone’s just silent.” The format created what Arao and Clemens (2013) term a “brave space” where students felt simultaneously safe and gently obligated to contribute. Previous year students reinforced this: in lectures, “no one wants to be that person who starts a discussion,” whilst in smaller settings, genuine dialogue was possible without performance anxiety.
The workshops took place between 5.30 – 6.30 pm, and I made a conscious effort to provide snacks for the students, acknowledging that it would be after a long studio day and hoping this would create a more comfortable environment. Student 4 confirmed this in their interview, expressing, ” because [you] gave us like snacks and made it really, I’d say more relaxed and more like at ease… it felt like there was space to reflect. ” This affirms the need to curate the relevant environments for students to feel comfortable and for learning to take place.
Role-play emerged as a powerful tool for developing systems-level thinking. Student 1’s extended reflection on the developer role revealed a sophisticated understanding: ‘you can’t blame a person… it’s the whole system that we’ve built and the way that the planner communicates with the developer than the architect… that system doesn’t enable inclusive design.’ This shift from individualising responsibility to recognising structural constraints embodies what critical pedagogy seeks (Hooks, 1994). Student 5 gained ‘an understanding as to how architects actually feel when they’re being pressured from all directions,’ demonstrating how the exercise-built empathy for positions students might otherwise judge harshly. Stevens (2015) argues that role-play enables students to ‘try on’ perspectives they might otherwise dismiss; here, students developed what De Zoysa et al. (2024) identify as cognitive empathy through inhabiting positions beyond their own, moving from blame to systemic analysis.
The third theme represents the intervention’s core achievement: fundamental reconceptualisation of inclusive design itself. Students entered using language of “accessibility” and “ramps and lifts,” understanding inclusive design as compliance-driven additions. Student 2 articulated this reconceptualisation in their interview: “At first I was thinking of inclusive design is just to add on things on top of something that’s already been built… I’ve learned that the point of inclusive design is to think about the design from the very start of the design process instead of just making it something that you slap on towards the end.” This shift from retrofit thinking to integrated design philosophy represents exactly the consciousness transformation this intervention sought. Case study videos proved catalytic here. Student 4 reflected that they would “never forget” the video about beauty and tactility, describing what they heard in the video as “sound like poetry.” Student 5 explained the videos’ power: “hearing from people firsthand… we only have such a shielded view of what it can be.” The authenticity of disabled people speaking for themselves created what Wilson (2021) describes as disorienting moments, prompting transformative learning.
I took the opportunity to speak with three of my previous first-year students, all now second-year students. Our conversation was a semi-structured group interview and discussion in which I asked several questions to prompt and gauge their understanding of inclusive design. Our conversation revealed consequences when this consciousness shift doesn’t occur. One student stated bluntly, “I hate accessibility,” whilst another explained, “I don’t understand why I have to consider any of the other possible users” when designing for specific clients. Their resistance positioned inclusive design as a constraint rather than an ethical commitment, precisely the consciousness gap this intervention sought to address. They identified a lack of pedagogical support: “we didn’t actually have a proper sit-down… explaining how to make a place accessible,” leading them to “dismiss and consider it a constraint.”
Image credit: Researcher. Previous years’ students completing the free writing task, please see the appendix to this blog post for further details
The data demonstrates that developing inclusive design consciousness requires more than information transmission. It demands pedagogical environments that combine brave space conditions, authentic encounters with lived experience through case studies, and opportunities for embodied perspective-taking through role-play. Students demonstrated the capacity for sophisticated ethical reasoning when provided appropriate scaffolding. The contrast with the previous year’s students’ resistance reveals what happens without such support: inclusive design remains positioned as a technical burden rather than fundamental to socially just architectural practice.
Diagram highlighting keyword frequencies from my group interview with previous years’ students, and analysis exploring key indicators about the students’ responses to the discussion and their positionality on the topic.
References
Arao, B. and Clemens, K. (2013) ‘From Safe Spaces to Brave Spaces: A New Way to Frame Dialogue Around Diversity and Social Justice’, in Landreman, L. M. (ed.) The Art of Effective Facilitation: Reflections From Social Justice Educators. Sterling, VA: Stylus Publishing, pp. 135–150.
Bowen, G. A. (2009) ‘Document Analysis as a Qualitative Research Method’, Qualitative Research Journal, 9(2), pp. 27–40.
Braun, V. and Clarke, V. (2022) Thematic Analysis: A Practical Guide to Understanding and Doing. London: SAGE.
De Zoysa, R., Male, S. and Chapman, E. (2024) ‘Motivation and the role of empathy in engineering work’, Australasian Journal of Engineering Education, 29(1), pp. 55–65.
Hooks, B. (1994) Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom. New York: Routledge.
Stevens, R. (2015) ‘Role-Play and Student Engagement: Reflections from the Classroom’, Teaching in Higher Education, 20(5), pp. 481–492.
Wilson, J. (2021) A Contemplative Pedagogy: Reflection and Presence in Learning. Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing.
Following the facilitation of two focus group workshops (10th and 17th November 2025), I hosted individual semi-structured interviews on 24th November 2025. This post examines how students engaged with different pedagogical methods by analysing multiple data sources: audio recordings and transcripts of discussions, students’ written reflections and drawings, facilitator field notes taken during the workshops, and keyword analysis of interview transcripts. Drawing on document analysis methods (Bowen, 2009), I compare student responses across activities to trace shifts in understanding and identify pedagogically significant moments.
Free Writing: Tracing Conceptual Evolution
Comparing students’ free writing between workshops revealed notable shifts. Student 1 moved from highlighting “my personal experience” with no elaboration, to questioning “Is it possible to be fully inclusive for every individual or is it about the majority?” demonstrating emerging critical thinking. Student 2 initially defined inclusive design through compliance (textured pathways, braille), they later identified systemic barriers: “architectural planning is often self-centred on one’s own ideas and experiences or the ‘average’ users.” Student 6 shifted from idealistic statements to practice-oriented critiques, introducing “intersectionality” terminology. Free writing revealed complex thinking from quieter students that was less present in some of the open dialogue during the workshops. Therefore, as a researcher, it was a valuable tool, and I would argue it would continue to be beneficial even if students are not immediately confronted with what it provides.
Self-Reflection: Struggling Toward Connection
The spatial memory exercise proved challenging. Students hesitated, uncertain whether their experiences were “genuinely inclusive or not.” Yet drawings revealed rich spatial thinking: exclusion depicted through narrow spaces, sensory overload, isolation; belonging through connection, vibrancy, safety.
When discussing these reflections with the group, Student 5 reflected on primary school canteens, “everything is just really high or just like kind of out of sight or out of reach”, connecting embodied experience to design consequences. Student 4 described a pier creating safety, “even though it was completely open,” challenging assumptions that “four walls and the bed” define a safe space. This exercise demonstrated students’ capacity to ground abstract concepts in lived experience, though requiring more scaffolding than anticipated.
Diagram analysing student feedback on methodologies of subject engagement (Also featured in my final presentation, uploaded in ARP Blog 8)
Video Discussion: Awakening to Injustice
Student responses to Disordinary Architecture case studies revealed intellectual and emotional engagement. Student 1 questioned why inclusive design remains “disordinary”: “It should just be in the design in general.” Student 2 acknowledged: “I really didn’t know even the surface of it… I didn’t realise that inclusive design wasn’t just about the necessities, it’s more about making people feel like they’re being just as thought about.”
Crucially, students articulated emotional responses. Student 4 described education gaps as “devastating… very selfish in a certain way to only think of oneself,” whilst Student 6 found it “sobering almost to realise what we consider architecture… shuts a lot of people out.” Student 5’s observation that wheelchair users “disappear” in tube stations, “everything is kind of behind the scenes”, illustrated how architectural decisions render disabled people invisible.
These affective responses suggest learning exceeded intellectual comprehension, touching questions of justice and professional responsibility (Hooks, 1994).
Debates and Role Play: From Agreement to Interrogation
The two debate formats produced qualitatively different discourse. In the park scenario, students conversed collaboratively, challenging false binaries whilst maintaining a collegial tone. The role play transformed this entirely. Student 6 reflected afterwards on the role-play’s pedagogical impact: “It just forces you to really consider another person’s perspective. You would maybe straight off the bat be like, oh no. But it really makes you think. And I think that’s probably a very necessary thing in our current world… I think a lot of times people don’t want to really try and understand where people are coming from or trying to get into their head. It definitely challenged the way I was thinking about it.” This recognition, that perspective-taking requires deliberate, even uncomfortable effort, captures why role-play proved more transformative than open debate. When Student 4 (Planning Officer) suggested removing affordable workspaces to meet budget constraints, Student 3 (Disabled Resident) challenged the assumption of authority: “But if the design was community-led and the community wants affordable workspaces, why do you think you know better than the community?” This exchange revealed power dynamics in design decision-making, questioning who holds legitimacy to modify community-led proposals.
Most pedagogically significant: students who advocated universal inclusion in debate were required to defend exclusionary positions when assigned specific roles. They later explored this in the group conversation, explaining how they began to understand their character’s reasoning, whilst different to their own. This revelation by the students demonstrated how structural constraints shape perspectives, regardless of individual values, precisely the systems-level thinking that critical pedagogy seeks to develop (Stevens, 2015).
Initial Patterns
Analysing the data suggests that students moved from a compliance-based understanding toward a recognition of inclusive design as ethical, political, and relational. The data also revealed tensions: complexity overwhelmed some students, such as Student 4, who expressed “It’s just a bit overwhelming”, whilst others questioned whether their experiences were valid data sources. Blog 7 will explore these themes through semi-structured interview data, examining students’ own reflections on their learning journey.
Diagram highlighting keyword frequencies from semi-structured interviews with focus group participants, and initial indicators from analysis.
References
Bowen, G. A. (2009) ‘Document Analysis as a Qualitative Research Method’, Qualitative Research Journal, 9(2), pp. 27–40.
Hooks, B. (1994) Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom. New York: Routledge.
Stevens, R. (2015) ‘Role-Play and Student Engagement: Reflections from the Classroom’, Teaching in Higher Education, 20(5), pp. 481–492.
Focus Group workshop 2 (17th November 2025) returned to the same six students, building on workshop 1 through structured debate and role play. This workshop tested whether perspective-taking activities could deepen critical engagement with tensions inherent in designing inclusively within real-world constraints.
WorkshopStructure and Pedagogical Intent
The 60-minute session began with free-writing, using the exact prompt text as workshop 1 to ensure an even measure of comparison in my analysis. We then progressed through two debate scenarios. Stevens (2015) argues that role play enables students to “try on” perspectives they might otherwise dismiss, whilst debate formats require articulating and defending positions, essential skills for forming and challenging their positions on topics.
Tool One: Debate
The first debate posed a hypothetical: ‘Should a £5 million park prioritise inclusive features for marginalised groups even if reducing space for a basketball court and running track advocated by community groups?’ Students discussed freely, immediately challenging the false binary. Student 4 noted “it can be both,” whilst Student 6 advocated “compromise” rather than elimination. Crucially, Student 3 warned that redirecting funds “might direct anger towards the people who were meant to be being serviced”, demonstrating awareness that design decisions can instrumentalise marginalised communities in political conflicts.
When I introduced the context of basketball courts historically excluding women, students grappled with how to address systemic exclusion without creating new divisions. Student 2’s insistence on demographic research, “if it’s such a low percentage… maybe that isn’t necessary”, revealed tension between universal design and resource allocation, whilst Student 1 countered that designing only for existing majorities “is reductive”.
Scan documenting researchers field notes captured during group debate
Tool Two: Role-play
The second debate elevated complexity through role-play, assigning roles: Architect, Developer, Planning Officer, Disabled Resident, Elderly Resident, and Young Person, each with distinct values and pressures. The scenario pitted inclusive design against climate-resilience requirements, forcing negotiation between competing goods rather than rights versus wrongs.
Discussion became notably animated. Student 3 (Disabled Resident) challenged budget claims directly: “profit needs to be a conversation”, critiquing how “cost” masks ideological resistance. Student 2 (Young Person) and Student 6 (Elderly Resident) clashed over safety, with Student 2 pointing out perceived threats from “disabled people”, exposing how inclusive design rhetoric can be weaponised.
Particularly striking was Student 5’s (Architect) visible discomfort: “I’m just hard to work within these constraints… I have one to my right saying this design is not going to be for them”. This observation crystallised the students’ understanding that the architect’s position can feel like that of a negotiator rather than an autonomous designer. As Arao and Clemens (2013) note, brave spaces require tolerating discomfort; here, that discomfort became pedagogically productive.
Image credit: Researcher. Student prepping for Role-playImage credit: Researcher. Students reviewing role-play debate topic
Critical Observations
The role-play generated qualitatively different discourse than open debate. Students moved from abstract principles to embodied advocacy, personalising their arguments to reveal both empathy and blind spots. Notably, students who strongly advocated for universal inclusion in Debate 1 found themselves defending exclusionary positions when role-playing as stakeholders with narrow interests.
The 60-minute time limit felt constraining again, although I acknowledge we had a lot on the agenda, and I therefore decided to continue the initial role-play for longer, rather than squeeze in switching roles, although this may have strengthened learnings.
References
Arao, B. and Clemens, K. (2013) ‘From Safe Spaces to Brave Spaces: A New Way to Frame Dialogue Around Diversity and Social Justice’, in Landreman, L. M. (ed.) The Art of Effective Facilitation: Reflections From Social Justice Educators. Sterling, VA: Stylus Publishing, pp. 135–150.
Stevens, R. (2015) ‘Role-Play and Student Engagement: Reflections from the Classroom’, Teaching in Higher Education, 20(5), pp. 481–492.
Building on the methodological research documented in Blog 3, this post outlines the practical implementation of data collection tools in Focus Group workshop 1, hosted on 10th November 2025. I examine how I designed the session structure, deployed specific tools, and positioned myself as a researcher-facilitator to foster meaningful student engagement with the topic.
Participants were recruited via a shared online form distributed via email to the entire year group and mentioned in a year-wide lecture. I had a total of 6 interested parties by the deadline for expression of interest. All of whom were invited to join the research project and accepted the invitation.
Focus Group Workshop 1 Agenda
The 60-minute workshop brought together six first-year students in a small seminar room, a deliberate choice to foster intimacy and psychological safety (Arao and Clemens, 2013). The session progressed through carefully sequenced activities: introduction (5 minutes), free writing (5 minutes), self-reflection on spatial experiences (10 minutes), engagement with three case study videos (20 minutes), and group discussion (20 minutes). This structure moved students from individual contemplation to shared learning and exploration, building confidence to engage with challenging subject matter.
Tool One: Free Writing as Warm-Up
Recommended by a peer during PgCert tutorial discussions, free writing served as a low-stakes entry point. Students received five minutes to capture initial thoughts about inclusive design through writing or drawing. This method, whilst not grounded in my formal reading, achieved two objectives: it created space for instinctive responses without the pressure of “correct” answers, and it provided baseline data about students’ existing knowledge. Jones et al. (2010) emphasise that such immediate capture methods can reveal assumptions that would otherwise be filtered out in more formal responses.
Scans documenting the students ‘Free Writing’ task
Tool Two: Self-Reflection Activity
Students responded in writing and/or drawings to two prompts I, the facilitator, dictated: “Describe a place you feel you belong, such as a positive experience in a public space,” and “A place you have felt excluded or experienced negatively.” I prompted them toward spatial qualities and embodied feelings, to ground them in their own lived experiences. These written and visual responses became documents for subsequent analysis, combining student-generated text with drawings that captured spatial understanding in ways words alone might not (Bowen, 2009).This activity aimed to validate their personal knowledge as legitimate data and created a foundation for empathy. Crucially, the “right to pass” on sharing ensured students retained control over disclosure, an ethical consideration central to creating brave spaces.
Scan of a students self-reflection drawingScan of a students self-reflection drawing
Tool Three: Case Study Videos
I shared three videos from Disordinary Architecture’s ‘Many More Parts’ series: ‘Exploring Deaf Space at London College of Fashion’ by Christopher Laing (5:26), ‘On Beauty’ by Mandy Redvers-Rowe (9:33), and ‘On Safety’ by Poppy Levison (3:22). Students received paper to draw, take notes, or create spider diagrams whilst watching, accommodating different learning preferences. The videos were chosen for their content, all covering various aspects of human experience in the built environment, their accessible use of language and imagery, and their length. Understanding students’ struggle to engage with complex topics for long periods, I discounted longer videos and films that would have been relevant to the topic.
Image credit: Researcher. Students watching the case study video, ‘Exploring Deaf Space at London College of Fashion’ by Christopher Laing
Tool Four: Guided Discussion and Fieldnotes
Following the videos, I facilitated a group discussion through open-ended prompts: “What did reflecting on your own lived experience teach you?”, “In your own opinion, what does good inclusive design look like?”, “What might it mean to consider this as an architect?” I consciously removed my own opinions, instead allowing the students to dominate the conversation and offering small prompts to scaffold responses without directing content. I audio-recorded the discussion and took minimal fieldnotes to maintain presence, following Jones et al.’s (2010) guidance that excessive notetaking can disrupt conversational flow. The complete audio transcript is an appendix to this blog post.
My Role as Facilitator
I positioned myself as a brave space facilitator rather than an authority figure, asking questions and reflecting students’ ideas to them. This neutral positioning was essential for gathering authentic data about students’ developing understanding rather than their ability to echo my perspective.
Initial Reflections
All six students contributed thoughtfully, grappling with fundamental questions about why inclusive design remains separate from “normal” design. The small group size and sequenced activities created conditions for depth of engagement. However, I noted tensions: the video format raised potential accessibility concerns I did not address with my students in advance, and the 60-minute timeframe felt rushed. These observations will inform adjustments to the debate structure for Focus Group Workshop 2.
References
Arao, B. and Clemens, K. (2013) ‘From Safe Spaces to Brave Spaces: A New Way to Frame Dialogue Around Diversity and Social Justice’, in Landreman, L. M. (ed.) The Art of Effective Facilitation: Reflections From Social Justice Educators. Sterling, VA: Stylus Publishing, pp. 135–150.
Bowen, G. A. (2009) ‘Document Analysis as a Qualitative Research Method’, Qualitative Research Journal, 9(2), pp. 27–40.
Jones, H., Kriflik, G. and Zanko, M. (2010) ‘Grounded Theory: A Theoretical and Practical Application in the Australian Film Industry’, in Organisational Ethnography: Studying the Complexities of Everyday Life. London: SAGE Publications, pp. 95–113.
Translating Observation into Methodological Choices
Observing students in lectures and studio sessions crystallised a critical insight: developing empathy and critical consciousness around inclusive design cannot be achieved through passive information transmission. My students’ challenge of accessible design features revealed not just a knowledge gap, but a consciousness gap. They need opportunities to examine their assumptions, engage with new and diverse perspectives, and develop what Boys (2014) describes as an understanding that disability and access are fundamental questions about bodies, space, and belonging, rather than technical problems to solve.
This realisation has shaped my methodological approach. I need methods that facilitate active knowledge construction, enable perspective-building, and create space for reflection and dialogue. This post outlines some of the methods I’m exploring.
Focus Groups: Creating Brave Spaces for Dialogue
The limitations of large-group teaching are evident: 118 students create ample opportunities for disengagement, with the same confident voices dominating whilst quieter perspectives remain invisible. Barbour (2018) argues that smaller focus groups enable deeper exploration of sensitive topics and ensure that all voices are heard.
Targeting a focus group of six students will create the conditions for what Arao and Clemens (2021) term as “brave space,” an environment where students feel safe to share perspectives, take risks, and be vulnerable in their learning without the pressure of performing before a large audience. This intimate setting will be essential for exploring the emotionally charged territory of inclusive design, where students may need to confront their own biases and assumptions.
Role Play and Debate: Perspective Building
Stevens (2015) demonstrates that role play is an effective active learning strategy that encourages participation, adds dynamism to learning, and promotes retention of material. More critically for my research question, role play requires students to inhabit perspectives beyond their own, developing what De Zoysa et al. (2024) identify as cognitive empathy: recognising and understanding another individual’s emotions by putting oneself in their position.
Kennedy (2007) argues that debate formats cultivate critical thinking by requiring students to articulate and defend positions. This aligns with Shaffer et al.’s (2017) concept of deliberative pedagogy teaching approaches that prepare students for democratic engagement through structured dialogue about contested issues. By structuring debates and role play, where students are required to argue from perspectives other than their own, I aim to disrupt their default assumptions about whose needs matter in design. This approach builds on Stevens’ (2015) finding that role play helps students appreciate that there are multiple sides to complex issues and that one’s background shapes experience. In the context of social justice, students need to understand how different embodiments, cultures, and backgrounds shape people’s relationships with the built environment. Shaffer et al. (2017) emphasise that deliberative pedagogies are particularly powerful when addressing ethical questions where multiple legitimate perspectives exist, precisely the territory of inclusive design decision-making.
Self-Reflection and Case Study Videos: Learning from Lived Experience
Tjora (2006) argues that fresh observation of familiar practices can reveal patterns and possibilities that might otherwise remain invisible. I will incorporate self-reflection activities in which students consider their lived experiences of space, using guided prompts to examine moments when physical environments have shaped them positively or negatively. This approach aligns with contemplative pedagogy (Wilson, 2021), which emphasises reflection and presence in learning.
Crucially, I am choosing to present case studies through video content rather than written materials or my own narration. This decision is deliberate: I want students to hear directly from people whose experiences differ from their own, rather than having those experiences mediated through my interpretation. Jokela and Huhmarniemi (2018) note that art-based and creative methods can facilitate deeper engagement with complex social issues by making abstract concepts tangible and personal.
Semi-structured Interviews: Capturing Individual Learnings and Reflections
Irvine et al. (2012) highlight that semi-structured interviews allow for clarification and deeper exploration of participants’ responses whilst maintaining consistency across interviews through core questions. Utilising semi-structured interviews will provide space for individual reflection on what students feel they have learned and will enable me to understand how the focus group’s experiences have shaped each student’s thinking about inclusive design.
Methods Considered and Discounted
I am deliberately avoiding quantitative approaches such as questionnaires or surveys. Whilst these might provide measurable data on attitude change, they will not capture the nuanced process of consciousness development I seek to understand. As Barbour (2018) notes, quantitative methods risk reducing complex social phenomena to simplified metrics. Similarly, I am discounting approaches that position students as passive recipients of information, such as lectures followed by individual written reflections. Whilst self-reflection has value, relying solely on individual reflection would miss the critical element of peer dialogue and perspective sharing that emerged as so valuable in Adriana’s session. Students need to encounter diverse viewpoints through interaction, not just introspection.
An Integrated Approach
The combination of focus groups, role play debates, case study engagement, self-reflection, and semi-structured interviews creates a research design that positions students as active constructors of knowledge. Each method serves a distinct purpose: focus groups create brave spaces for dialogue; role-play disrupts default assumptions; case studies ground learning in lived experience; self-reflection encourages personal connection; and interviews capture individual learning.
This multi-methodological approach, grounded in active and transformative learning theories, aims to create the conditions for students to develop the empathy, reflexivity, and critical consciousness necessary for socially just architectural practice.
References
Arao, B. and Clemens, K. (2021) ‘From Safe Spaces to Brave Spaces: A New Way to Frame Dialogue Around Diversity and Social Justice.’ In: Landreman, L. (ed.) The Art of Effective Facilitation: Reflections from Social Justice Educators.2nd ed. Sterling, VA: Stylus, pp. 135–150.
Barbour, R. (2018) Doing Focus Groups. 2nd ed. London: SAGE.
Boys, J. (2014) Doing Disability Differently: An Alternative Handbook on Architecture, Dis/ability and Designing for Everyday Life. London: Routledge.
De Zoysa, R., Male, S. and Chapman, E. (2024) ‘Motivation and the role of empathy in engineering work’, Australasian Journal of Engineering Education, 29:1, pp. 55–65.
Irvine, A., Drew, P. and Sainsbury, R. (2012) ‘”Am I not answering your questions properly?” Clarification, adequacy and responsiveness in semi-structured telephone and face-to-face interviews. Qualitative Research, 13:1, pp. 87–106.
Jokela, T. and Huhmarniemi, M. (2018) ‘Art-based action research in the North’, International Journal of Education Through Art, 14:2, pp. 14:2, pp. 145–160.
Kennedy, R. (2007) ‘In-Class Debates: Fertile Ground for Active Learning and the Cultivation of Critical Thinking and Oral Communication Skills’, International Journal of Teaching and Learning in Higher Education, 19(2), pp. 183–190.
Shaffer, T. J., Longo, N. V., Manosevitch, I. and Thomas, M. S. (eds.) (2017) Deliberative Pedagogy: Teaching and Learning for Democratic Engagement. East Lansing: Michigan State University Press.
Stevens, R. (2015) ‘Role-play and student engagement: reflections from the classroom’, Teaching in Higher Education, 20:5, pp. 481–492.
Tjora, A. H. (2006) ‘Writing small discoveries: an exploration of fresh observers’ observations’. Qualitative Research, 6:4, pp. 429–451.
Wilson, J. (2021) A Contemplative Pedagogy: Reflection and Presence in Learning. Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing.
To better understand how ethics and critical thinking around social justice are taught within the BA Architecture course, I observed my colleague Adriana Cobo Corey deliver a session on Tuesday, 14th October 2025 (10 am–1 pm) as part of Unit 1: Practising Ethics. The three-hour lecture, titled “Gender and Public Space,” provided valuable insight into both the opportunities and limitations of engaging a full-year group of 118 students with complex social justice themes.
The session was lecture-based, with Adriana presenting various references on gender and public space, interspersed with moments of conversation and reflection. Towards the final 30 minutes, she introduced a real-world scenario on screen, inviting students to discuss and share their positions. Five students volunteered their perspectives before Adriana revealed the actual outcome, connecting their responses to the real consequences of design decisions.
Throughout the session, approximately nine students actively participated, a small fraction of the cohort. Student engagement peaked when Adriana invited opinion sharing and peer discussion, demonstrating their willingness to engage when given explicit permission. However, engagement dropped significantly when pre-lecture reading tasks were introduced, and the lecture format, with rows of seating, created a spatial hierarchy in which front-row students were more forthcoming, whilst others remained quiet, despite Adriana moving around the entire space to engage with students.
What was encouraging: students from different backgrounds shared perspectives, and several were willing to disagree or bring alternative viewpoints. I witnessed glimpses of critical thinking developing through peer dialogue. What was concerning: quieter students never came forward; many spent time on their phones or withdrew from conversation; and the same confident voices dominated throughout. With 118 students, there was ample room to disengage, and many did.
The large group format made it difficult to create what Arao and Clemens (2021) term a “brave space,” an environment where students feel safe to share perspectives, take risks, and be vulnerable in their learning. The question emerged: whose perspectives are centred in large-scale group discussions? Whose lived experiences remain invisible?
Shaping My Methodological Approach
This observation crystallised several key decisions for my action research. Whilst I valued Adriana’s use of factual scenarios and invitation to student opinions, I recognised the need for a smaller format where every student would have both the opportunity and the gentle expectation to contribute. A focus group of six students, rather than 118, could create conditions for genuine brave space without the pressure of performing before a large audience. Barbour (2018) argues that smaller focus groups enable a more profound exploration of sensitive topics and ensure that all voices are heard, rather than being dominated by the most confident participants.
I also wanted to expand methodologies beyond reading tasks and images. Rather than solely presenting references on inclusive design, I aimed to create experiential learning opportunities that engaged students through their own lived experiences, structured debates that required them to inhabit different perspectives, and case study reflections that connected theory to practice.
My approach led to my research question: “How can ethically led debates, grounded in lived experience and case study reflection, support architecture students in developing more conscious awareness about inclusive approaches to design?”
Ethical Planning and Participant Care
Given the sensitive nature of discussions around lived experience and inclusive design, ethical planning will be paramount. Working through the Ethical Action Plan process has helped me consider several critical dimensions.
Power dynamics:My dual role as tutor and researcher requires careful navigation. As BERA (2024) emphasises, researchers have a responsibility to ensure voluntary participation and to protect participants from coercion, particularly given the power imbalance inherent in teacher-student relationships. I am using opt-in recruitment outside studio time, emphasising that participation would not affect teaching or assessment, and developing anonymous data-collection methods.
Creating brave spaces: Following Arao and Clemens (2021), I have established ground rules for respect, confidentiality, and “right to pass” at any stage. Sessions will include content notes in advance and signposting to UAL wellbeing support.
Data protection: Minimising data collection to field notes, optional anonymous reflections, and audio recordings (with consent) stored on encrypted UAL systems, with clear retention and deletion timelines.
The complete Ethical Action Plan and participant-facing documents are attached as appendices.
References
Arao, B. and Clemens, K. (2021) ‘From Safe Spaces to Brave Spaces: A New Way to Frame Dialogue Around Diversity and Social Justice.’ In: Landreman, L. (ed.) The Art of Effective Facilitation: Reflections from Social Justice Educators.2nd ed. Sterling, VA: Stylus, pp. 135–150.
Barbour, R. (2018) Doing Focus Groups. 2nd ed. London: SAGE.
British Educational Research Association (2024) Ethical Guidelines for Educational Research. 5th ed. Available at: https://www.bera.ac.uk/publication/ethical-guidelines-for-educational-research-fifth-edition-2024 (Accessed: 26 October 2025).
Web image depicting some of the traditional ideas of inclusive design
As an Associate Lecturer teaching first-year BA Architecture students at Central Saint Martins (CSM), I continually strive to engage my studio of 13/14 students within the constraints of my teaching hours and prescribed project briefs. Last year, I noticed that students struggled most when required to include accessible level changes, such as lifts or ramps, in their final design project. Many questioned the necessity of these ‘features’, expressing concern that they “ruined the design” or explaining that they are designing for someone who was “fully mobile.” These conversations were difficult to navigate as I advocated for fair and just design for all. Yet, I recognised a fundamental gap: my students lacked the critical awareness and applied empathy necessary to understand inclusive design as anything beyond a frustrating technical requirement.
My Positionality
As a tutor in my fifth year of teaching at CSM, I also work in industry as a qualified architect, focusing on social justice in the built environment and on design quality through people-centred places and community agency. My own architectural education offered limited space to explore equitable design critically, and it was only through professional practice that I recognised the industry’s paradox: seeking designers who create for people yet providing little framework for understanding what this truly means. This paradox drives my commitment to expanding the understanding of inclusive design beyond mobility and physical accessibility to encompass the multiplicity of human experience.
As a woman of colour, born and raised in London, I have lived and industry experience in the field I am exploring, thus I am conscious of how my positionality shapes this research. I strive to create and hold space for others’ stories and lived experiences to influence collective learning, deliberately removing myself from the centre whilst acknowledging my dual role as tutor-researcher.
Why This Matters: Inclusive Design as Social Justice
This issue connects directly to the BA Architecture course’s manifesto, which “embeds racial, social and environmental justice through a curriculum that centres on care, climate, cooperation and agency” (CSM, 2024). The course overview emphasises that “architecture is about people and how we interact with our environments” and promotes “responsibility beyond the client and understanding the consequences of actions for people and planet.”
Yet when my students dismiss accessible design features as aesthetic inconveniences, they reveal a troubling disconnect between these stated values and their emerging design practice. As Boys (2014) argues, disability and access are not simply technical problems to be ‘solved’ with ramps and lifts, but fundamental questions about how we understand bodies, space, and belonging. When students design only for “fully mobile” users, they perpetuate exclusion and fail to recognise design as inherently political and ethical.
Image from UAL, CSM website: ‘A Manifesto for Spatial Practices at Central Saint Martins’
Research-Led Approach
This Action Research Project explores how I might support students in developing the critical consciousness necessary for socially just architectural practice. By observing colleagues’ teaching methodologies and reflecting on my students’ learning needs, I have created a research question focused on ethically led debates, lived experience, and case study reflection as pedagogical tools for nurturing empathy, reflexivity, and inclusive design thinking. The following blog posts will document this journey.
For context, this blog post is supported by an appendix document of research notes, providing more in-depth enquiry and positionality.
References
Boys, J. (2014) Doing Disability Differently: An Alternative Handbook on Architecture, Dis/ability and Designing for Everyday Life. London: Routledge.
As a qualified architect and Hourly Paid Lecturer, teaching Stage 1 BA Architecture at Central Saint Martins, I frequently reflect on how students’ early design thinking connects, or fails to connect, with lived experience. My students often approach design with a focus on formal or aesthetic concerns, sometimes bypassing considerations of inclusion, access, or social diversity. This mirrors broader disciplinary tendencies where the “user” is abstracted and normative assumptions about the body and space prevail (Boys, 2014; Imrie, 2012).
The Inclusive Practice unit has prompted me to interrogate these patterns more critically, particularly concerning my positionality as a woman of colour from a large, intergenerational family that includes members with visual and physical impairments. These experiences inform my values of care, empathy, and attunement to the subtle but significant ways exclusion is embedded in the built environment. This report explores the development and reflection on an intervention I designed, ‘Mapping Belonging: A Sensory and Spatial Reflection’, to foster inclusive awareness among architecture students through sensory recall, embodied memory, and shared dialogue.
The aim was not to provide a checklist of inclusive design principles, but to begin building the critical empathy necessary for future designers to engage with spatial injustice. In doing so, I draw on frameworks of intersectionality (Crenshaw, 1989), brave space pedagogies (Arao and Clemens, 2021), and spatial justice (Soja, 2010) to reimagine how students might engage more meaningfully with human experience as a foundation for inclusive practice and design.
Ref: Medium (2018), Image from article ‘Spatial Justice and the Right to the City’
Context
I currently teach approximately 14 first-year BA Architecture students one day per week during term time. While the cohort is diverse, there is often little opportunity to delve deeply into lived experience or inclusive design within the confines of studio-based projects. The studio environment in architecture schools is historically shaped by individualism, competition, and visual modes of communication (Stevens, 1998). Many students, still adjusting to university life, find it difficult to articulate how social difference impacts spatial experience, let alone design with it in mind in ways that challenge normative spatial assumptions.
This intervention is situated midway through the first term, when students have begun to establish relationships and a sense of peer familiarity. It is intentionally low-resource and designed to be adaptable to short time slots within existing teaching schedules. Crucially, it seeks to shift the pedagogical focus from abstract spatial concepts to embodied, relational, and inclusive spatial thinking. The approach creates a foundation for inclusive learning aligned with UAL.¹
Inclusive Learning and Intervention Design
Inclusive learning in architecture is essential not only for diversifying who enters the profession but for challenging the spatial reproduction of inequality. As Soja (2010, p.19) argues, “justice has a geography”; the built environment reflects and reinforces power structures that marginalise certain bodies and identities. Awan, Schneider and Till (2011) similarly frame architecture as a site of spatial agency, where designers can act politically and collaboratively to reshape exclusionary norms. If architectural education fails to model these commitments, it risks perpetuating the very inequalities it might otherwise seek to challenge (Imrie, 2012; Boys, 2014).
Mapping Belonging responds to this imperative by centring students’ own experiences of spatial inclusion and exclusion as the starting point for critical design thinking. The intervention draws on pedagogies of discomfort (Bozalek and Zembylas, 2017) and the concept of brave spaces (Arao and Clemens, 2021), creating conditions where students can reflect on difficult, emotionally resonant experiences. At its core is the use of sensory memory as a reflective tool. Students are invited to recall how specific spaces made them feel, through sensory details such as light, sound, temperature or atmosphere.
This emphasis on sensation is intentional. Paterson (2009) argues that sensory experience is not neutral but shaped by social and spatial hierarchies, a concept he terms the politics of sensation. Similarly, Howes and Classen (2014) contend that what we perceive and prioritise in space is culturally constructed, shaped by norms that often go unquestioned. By asking students to create sensory maps using drawing, collage or writing, the intervention validates embodied knowledge and opens up neurodiverse and multilingual pathways for expression. It also challenges the dominance of purely visual or technical approaches to design, which can marginalise students who think, feel or communicate differently (Boys, 2014; Bamber and Jones, 2015).
Ref: Medium (2023), Image from article ‘Accessibility in UX: Navigating the Inclusive Design Landscape’
The workshop culminates in a reflective discussion where students share and compare their mapped experiences. This dialogue surfaces both commonalities and contrasts, prompting awareness of whose perspectives are present and absent in the room. The aim is not to reach consensus but to foster critical empathy, encouraging students to identify assumptions and consider how exclusion may be unconsciously designed in. Through this embodied and reflective method, the workshop lays the foundation for more socially attuned and inclusive architectural thinking.
Reflection on Process and Peer Feedback
One of the first inspirations for this work came from watching Chris Laing, a Deaf architect, explore Deaf Space at the London College of Fashion (Wellcome Collection, 2022). Laing reflects on how subtle adjustments, like the placement of mirrors for sightlines or wider corridors to enable sign language conversation, can significantly enhance spatial inclusion for Deaf users. The video shifted my perspective; rather than seeing inclusive design as accommodation, I began to see it as a creative, empathetic, and deeply human act. This embodied example became the emotional and conceptual anchor for my intervention.
Image from peer group presentation, with peers taking part in the instructed mapping exercise.
When piloting the workshop with a small group of peers, I facilitated the sensory mapping exercise rather than presenting it. This decision modelled the approach I hoped to take with students. The feedback was affirming, as participants described the exercise as “so effective in such a short time” and noted that it allowed them to “know the person better.” They observed that it would resonate with younger students but cautioned against implementing it too early in the term, when vulnerability and group trust are still developing.
Peers suggested beginning with a more physical or collaborative group task to build rapport and then gradually introducing reflective elements. This feedback was pivotal. It forced me to reckon with the ethical implications of asking students to share intimate spatial memories in a potentially unsafe group context. As Arao and Clemens (2021) emphasise, brave spaces must be intentionally cultivated, with clear guidelines around respectful dialogue, active listening, and personal ownership of experience.
Image from peer group presentation, with peers sharing, listening and discussing themes and feelings.
Action and Iteration
In response, I propose to restructure the intervention into a two-part workshop, to be delivered in weeks 6 and 7 of the term. The first session introduces a group bonding activity and lighter mapping of daily routines or neutral sensory spaces. This builds familiarity and lowers emotional stakes. The second session deepens the reflection by inviting students to consider inclusion and exclusion in their mapped experiences, supported by a curated selection of case studies and testimonies based around disabled experiences, such as Chris Laing’s video.
Ref: Welcome Collection (2022), Image of Chris Laing discussing the five principles of Deaf space.
This adjustment reflects a broader realisation: inclusive pedagogy must itself be inclusive in its pacing and emotional demands. While my initial ambition was to immerse students in discomfort to catalyse learning, I now recognise that discomfort must be scaffolded with care. This echoes Bozalek and Zembylas (2017), who argue that discomfort is transformative only when students feel supported enough to stay with it.
I also acknowledge that while I intended to explore blind, deaf, and mobility-impaired experiences in depth, this may be unrealistic for a single session. Instead, I propose integrating recorded testimonies, sensory ethnographies, or architectural precedents that students can analyse collectively. In this way, their learning is grounded not in speculation, but in real-world voices and design examples.
Evaluation and Future Directions
If implemented, I would evaluate the intervention’s impact through both informal conversation and formal student feedback. I anticipate that the most telling indicators would not be quantitative, but qualitative: increased sensitivity in design proposals, more reflective spatial language, and evolving student-led conversations around access and inclusion. I would also invite students to suggest improvements and co-develop future iterations of the workshop, aligning with inclusive and participatory pedagogies (Cook-Sather, 2014).
One challenge I anticipate is that some students, especially those who do not see themselves represented in conversations about marginalisation, may disengage or feel disconnected from the aims of the intervention. To address this, I draw on Allport’s (1954) Contact Hypothesis, which proposes that structured interaction across social differences can reduce prejudice and foster empathy when certain conditions are met: equal status, shared goals, cooperation, and institutional support. In my workshop, students work in small, diverse groups with the shared task of mapping spatial experiences, an activity that centres personal reflection while inviting relational understanding.
Image from peer group presentation, of sketches/mapping/sensorial work, exploring inclusion and exclusion.
By allowing students to express differences through sensory and narrative forms, the intervention encourages peer-to-peer empathy without requiring verbal confession or confrontation. This aligns with Pettigrew’s (1998) emphasis on affective ties and the importance of creating space for friendship and insight, rather than only knowledge transmission. Moreover, by structuring the session within a normatively inclusive studio culture and ensuring clear facilitation protocols (e.g. confidentiality, use of “I” statements), the design supports the social conditions needed to encourage participation even from initially hesitant students. While Allport’s theory provides a useful framework, I remain aware that not all contact is experienced equally; intersectional power dynamics still shape who feels safe, heard, or centred in these exchanges (Crenshaw, 1989). This reinforces the importance of intentional facilitation, trust-building, and diverse representation within the learning space.
To evaluate impact more rigorously, I could also draw on qualitative methods such as reflective journaling, short anonymous prompts at the end of each session, or visual analysis of students’ sensory maps across the cohort. These techniques would allow me to identify recurring themes in how students perceive inclusion and whether their spatial thinking begins to shift over time.
Conclusion
This intervention emerged from a deeply held conviction that empathy is foundational to inclusive practice and design, and that empathy itself must be cultivated through experience, reflection, and shared vulnerability. The Inclusive Practice unit has equipped me with theoretical and practical tools to translate this conviction into pedagogical action.
Critically reflecting on the process has taught me to temper ambition with care and to understand inclusion not as a topic to be “delivered” but as a way of being, teaching, and relating. My positionality, as a minoritised woman with lived experiences of disability in my family, has shaped this work profoundly, and so too has the input of peers, scholars, and practitioners.
As I continue developing this intervention, I am committed to refining both its content and its context: ensuring it meets students where they are, while gently challenging them to design and learn with greater justice, empathy, and imagination.
This process has not only shaped this specific intervention but has also shifted how I see my role as an educator. I now view inclusive pedagogy as an evolving commitment, one that requires continual reflexivity, co-learning with students, and an openness to discomfort and growth.
Footnote
¹ The intervention aligns with UAL’s Strategic Plan 2015–22, which advocates for pedagogical approaches that acknowledge diverse identities, challenge systemic bias, and support belonging through curriculum and classroom culture (UAL, 2022). Embedding this work into the studio setting models these principles in action and supports sector-wide efforts to make higher education more equitable (AdvanceHE, 2021).
References
AdvanceHE (2021) Equality in higher education: Students statistical report 2021. York: AdvanceHE. [Accessed 7 July 2025].
Allport, G.W. (1954) The Nature of Prejudice. Cambridge, MA: Addison-Wesley.
Arao, B. and Clemens, K. (2021) ‘From safe spaces to brave spaces: A new way to frame dialogue around diversity and social justice.’ In: Landreman, L. (ed.) The Art of Effective Facilitation: Reflections from Social Justice Educators. 2nd ed. Sterling, VA: Stylus Publishing, pp. 135–150.
Awan, N., Schneider, T. and Till, J. (2011) Spatial Agency: Other Ways of Doing Architecture. London: Routledge.
Bamber, P. and Jones, L. (2015) ‘Inclusive education in the Global South: a thematic review of the literature.’ International Journal of Inclusive Education, 19(12), pp. 1218–1231.
Bozalek, V. and Zembylas, M. (2017) ‘Discomfort as a pedagogical tool for transformative learning in higher education.’ Teaching in Higher Education, 22(6), pp. 654–668.
Boys, J. (2014) Doing Disability Differently: An Alternative Handbook on Architecture, Dis/ability and Designing for Everyday Life. London: Routledge.
Cook-Sather, A. (2014) ‘Multiplying perspectives and improving practice: what can happen when undergraduate students collaborate with college faculty to explore teaching and learning.’ Instructional Science, 42(1), pp. 31–46.
Crenshaw, K. (1989) ‘Demarginalizing the Intersection of Race and Sex: A Black Feminist Critique of Antidiscrimination Doctrine.’ University of Chicago Legal Forum, 1989(1), pp. 139–167.
Howes, D. and Classen, C. (2014) Ways of Sensing: Understanding the Senses in Society. London: Routledge.
Imrie, R. (2012) Universalising design: inclusive architectural design and the new politics of difference. London: Routledge.
Paterson,M. (2013) ‘Blindness, empathy, and “feeling seeing”: Literary and insider accounts of blind experience’, Emotion,Spaceand Society, 10(1), pp. 95–104.
Pettigrew, T.F. (1998) ‘Intergroup contact theory.’ Annual Review of Psychology, 49, pp. 65–85.
Soja, E. (2010) Seeking Spatial Justice. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.
Stevens, G. (1998) The Favored Circle: The Social Foundations of Architectural Distinction. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
University of the Arts London (UAL) (2022) UAL Strategy 2015–2022: Creative Education for a Changing World. Available at: https://www.arts.ac.uk/about-ual/strategy-and-governance/ual-strategy-2015-22 (Accessed 8 July 2025).
