Why Classrooms? Innovative Learning Space Design is key to the Future of Learning

Rethinking the Spaces Where Learning Happens

Written by Adam James

“If we teach today’s students as we taught yesterday’s, we rob them of tomorrow.” – John Dewey

For over a century, the classroom has remained the dominant unit of school design. A box with four walls, a whiteboard at the front, and neat rows of desks inside: it’s a layout so standardised that even a child’s drawing of “school” reflects it. But in a world that has transformed radically in the past few decades, technologically, culturally, pedagogically, this spatial model has barely budged. Why?

This article is a provocation. A call to reconsider not just what happens inside schools, but the very environments we expect learning to occur in. Why classrooms? Why this shape, this setup, this structure? And more importantly, is it still fit for purpose?

We can explore how classroom design came to be, why it may no longer serve modern learners, and what alternatives are emerging across the world, from the high-tech innovation hubs of Dubai to the open-air community schools of The Gambia. Along the way, places like NEXUS International School in Singapore, a model of open-plan vertical learning, and investigate not just what schools look like but why they look that way, and what happens when we let learning drive the design.

From Factory to Flexibility

my school years of the 90s depicted perfectly by Grange Hill....

The standard classroom was never designed with neuroscience or modern pedagogy in mind. It was a product of the Industrial Revolution, a time when education systems were built to prepare children for factory work. Uniformity, discipline, and efficiency were the key values, and the physical design of schools reflected this. Desks in rows, bells signalling each period, one teacher delivering information to many.

Over time, this structure became so embedded in our idea of school that few thought to question it. Even as teaching evolved — shifting from repetition-based learning to inquiry-led approaches — the physical environment remained largely unchanged. In many places, it still does. But change is beginning to take root.

The 21st century brings new expectations of education: creativity, collaboration, digital fluency, adaptability. To meet these, we need spaces that reflect and support how learning now happens, and how learners behave.

Early Years Breakout at DBS Jumeira

Designing for Learning, Not Lessons

If we accept that the traditional classroom needs reimagining, the next step is actually designing these new environments. It’s not as simple as knocking down walls or buying new furniture. It requires a mindset shift: to design for learning, not just for lessons.

In conventional school planning, a provider might ask, “How many classrooms do we need? How many desks per room?” That’s designing for lessons, assuming a fixed delivery method and then allocating space accordingly.

Designing for learning, by contrast, means starting with the question:

What kinds of learning experiences do we want to create, and what spaces will enable those?

It’s a pedagogical approach to design, architecture in service of educational goals, not the other way around.

Six Design Questions for Learning-Centred Schools

Design starts with the verbs of learning, create, explore, discuss, reflect, and builds the space around them.

There should be six key questions architects, educators and school leaders should ask when crafting modern learning spaces:

1. What learning experiences will this space support?

Rather than assuming a one-size-fits-all classroom, pinpoint the actual activities and experiences students should have. Will they be building? Debating? Researching quietly? Collaborating?

A space designed for robotics and making will look different from one intended for discussion and debate. Clarity on desired experiences, from hands-on experiments to performances to cross-disciplinary projects, allows for tailored layouts, tools and atmospheres.

2. How can the space adapt to different needs and future changes?

Flexibility is key. Can furniture be reconfigured? Can walls be moved? Can a space host a lecture, a workshop, and an exhibition, all in one day?

Designing with modular elements, such as foldable partitions, writable surfaces, and stackable furniture, allows a space to transform as needed. And by planning for infrastructure flexibility (like lots of access to power points, strong Wi-Fi, and portable tech), the space remains relevant as technology and pedagogy evolve.

3. Does the environment itself inspire and engage learners?

Learning spaces are not just functional, they’re emotional. Ask yourself: would you feel excited to learn in this room?

Natural light, colour, views of nature, creative textures, artwork and student displays all contribute to an engaging atmosphere. A sterile box can feel oppressive. A thoughtfully designed space sends a message: learning is vibrant, joyful, and valued.

“Spaces that teach often do so by sparking imagination and inviting students to explore.”

4. Are we prioritising collaboration and community?

Modern education is social. Does the design enable students and teachers to work together?

Look for breakout spaces, open commons, shared planning zones, and flexible group seating. Even corridor width and furniture arrangement can encourage (or restrict) informal dialogue. From a tucked-away reading nook for a pair of students to a central amphitheatre for a whole grade, design should reflect how people naturally gather, share, and learn from one another.

5. How can every space become a learning space?

When we move beyond the idea of the classroom as the only place for learning, the entire campus becomes a canvas.

A corridor can become a gallery. A stairwell can house a mini-library. A courtyard can be a performance stage or a science lab. Designing “in-between” spaces with intention allows learning to happen everywhere.

6. Does the design reflect our educational values and context?

Finally, the design must embody what the school stands for, and who it serves.

Does it reflect the local culture, climate, and community? A school focused on sustainability should show this through green architecture and spaces. A creative school should showcase student art, design and innovation as soon as you enter the door. In warmer regions, designing with the climate in mind means creating shaded, breathable outdoor spaces that support comfort, engagement, and a sense of place. Designing with authenticity and inclusivity ensures the space is meaningful and empowering.

NEXUS International School, Singapore

“When you design for learning, you stop designing classrooms — and start designing communities.”

When visiting NEXUS International School in Singapore last November, one thing stood out immediately: there were few traditional classrooms. Instead, the school is arranged vertically across a compact urban site, with each level of the building operating as a “learning village” large open-plan zones where different year groups mix, collaborate and learn together.

Each village includes learning commons, breakout pods, soft seating zones, transparent meeting rooms, and specialist hubs for different subjects. In many instances, there are limited fixed walls dividing classrooms, instead, staff and students move through fluid learning environments that support a variety of experiences, from focused reading to energetic group work. Teachers work in co-teaching teams, planning collaboratively and flexibly based on students' needs.

This vertical open-plan model is particularly effective in Singapore where land is scarce, where schools must maximise spatial efficiency. By stacking learning communities and making every corner usable, NEXUS creates a dynamic educational environment in a compact footprint.

It’s also a case of design enabling culture. The architecture actively encourages movement, collaboration and ownership. Students aren’t confined to “their classroom”, they use the whole floor. They’re trusted to choose where and how to learn, with teachers guiding rather than directing. The result is a culture of autonomy, respect, and engagement.

In short, NEXUS doesn’t just look different, it behaves differently. And that’s the true measure of design aligned with pedagogy.

Why It Matters

Reimagining classrooms isn’t just a stylistic choice, it’s a catalyst for change across all layers of education. So why does it matter?

Spaces That Teach

“Every space teaches. The question is — what is it teaching?”

The idea that physical space conveys values and behaviours is well-established. From the layout of desks to the presence of nature to the way student work is displayed, everything communicates.

An open, flexible, engaging space teaches students that learning is social, dynamic, and worthy of care. A rigid, grey box with rigid chairs and tables teaches them the opposite.

The Reggio Emilia approach describes the environment as the “third teacher”, alongside adults and peers. When schools internalise this, design becomes a form of silent pedagogy.

Student Engagement Increases

Engagement is a major predictor of learning outcomes, and space plays a huge role in it.

Studies, show that students in active learning classrooms report significantly higher engagement levels. Spaces designed for movement, choice, collaboration and creativity lead to more active engagement time and greater participation.

Students are more attentive when they can move around. They’re more curious when the room is full of interesting stimuli. They’re more confident when they have choices, whether to work alone, with a partner, or in a group. A flexible environment communicates trust, and students often rise to meet that expectation.

Even emotionally, students respond to design. Natural light, warm materials, comfortable seating, all contribute to a sense of belonging and wellbeing, which is foundational to learning.

A transformation at American Community School of Abu Dhabi - transforming spaces into community led areas, encouraging interaction and engagement

Future-Proofing Education

A flexible school is a future-ready school. Rigid classrooms can’t pivot when pedagogy changes or tech evolves. Flexible learning suites, on the other hand, can absorb new functions, roles, and tools without needing demolition.

The jobs our students are headed for will require adaptability, collaboration, creativity and digital fluency. Learning environments that mirror these future workplaces, with shared spaces, diverse settings, and the latest tech, prepare students far more effectively than traditional boxes ever could.

The Covid-19 pandemic revealed the limits of inflexible school infrastructure. It also highlighted the resilience of those with adaptable spaces and self-directed learning cultures. Future-proofing is not a luxury, it’s a necessity.

Equity and Application in Developing Contexts

There’s a myth that classroom innovation is a luxury of those that can afford it (both education providers and parents!). But in many developing regions, it may be more essential, and more intuitive, than anywhere else.

In The Gambia (a country I fell in love with on my honeymoon), for instance, limited infrastructure means learning often happens in shared, outdoor, or communal spaces. With thoughtful zoning, community involvement, and adaptable use of local materials, schools can embrace a no-classroom philosophy not as a high-tech dream, but as a pragmatic solution.

Projects like the Barefoot Foundation in Colombia show that open, flexible learning spaces can be low-cost, culturally grounded, and high-impact. In fact, The Barefoot Foundation was founded by popstar Shakira to help impoverished children in Colombia access education. It’s remarkable that some of the most impactful initiatives are being driven by individuals outside the traditional education system, people who recognise a problem and think outside the box to create meaningful ways of supporting learners. Their focus isn’t on following the rules but on helping children reach their full potential, no matter their starting point.

The key is not imposing a singular architectural style, but applying the principles of learner-centred, adaptable design to every context. Every child, no matter where they live, deserves a space that values their potential.

A Global Dialogue

Two worlds apart, but asking the same question: how can children learn?

To understand the global relevance of rethinking classrooms, it helps to look at two very different contexts: Dubai and The Gambia. At first glance, they could not be more different. Dubai is one of the world’s fastest-developing cities, known for cutting-edge architecture and high investment in innovation. The Gambia, on the other hand, is one of the smallest and least resourced countries in Africa, where many schools lack even basic facilities. Yet, both are grappling with the same challenge: how do we design better learning environments for the future?

In Dubai, new schools often compete by showcasing the latest in educational design. Transparent classrooms, flexible furniture, VR labs, and learning hubs are now common marketing buzz words for prospectuses and websites. Some schools embrace fully open-plan learning neighbourhoods where multiple classes share space and co-teach. These schools are pushing boundaries, replacing classrooms with collaborative learning zones, nature-integrated areas and a focus on well being.

Meanwhile, in The Gambia, innovation often comes out of necessity. Multi-age classrooms, outdoor learning, and shared spaces are the norm due to limited infrastructure. But this has opened the door to organic, community-based learning environments. Projects have shown how local materials, passive cooling, and communal design could create a flexible and expandable school hub. Here, the idea of "no classrooms" isn't imported, it's intuitive.

Dubai offers inspiration in terms of technology integration and high-concept pedagogy. The Gambia offers a lesson in human-centred design, community involvement, and cultural grounding. The future of education doesn't lie in copying one model, but in learning from both.

One Idea, Many Realities

What these two places prove is that the concept of moving beyond classrooms is not a one-size-fits-all solution. It is a flexible mindset that adapts to local needs, resources, and cultures.

In Dubai, the notion of sky-high vertical campuses conjures up exciting imagery: innovation labs stacked over creative studios, glass-walled pods nestled beside rooftop gardens, and AI-powered tutors supporting personalised learning on every floor. Yet, this vision bumps up against a hard reality, current fire regulations in the region limit how high educational buildings can be built. Most schools remain horizontal, sprawling across plots rather than rising like their commercial or residential counterparts. Safety, of course, must come first. But this challenge also presents an opportunity. What if we could reimagine what a vertical school means within these constraints? What if verticality could be approached not just in physical elevation, but in conceptual layering?

Instead of traditional classroom blocks repeated across floors, a vertical school could be designed as a stack of distinct learning ecosystems, each level serving a different pedagogical function. One floor might focus on collaboration and social learning, with open project spaces and communal zones. Another could be quieter, housing research pods, studios for deep thinking, or therapy and wellbeing centres. A rooftop, safely enclosed and landscaped, could become a science garden, outdoor classroom, or even an urban farm. Vertical doesn’t have to mean height alone, it can mean variety, perspective, and movement. Crucially, vertical schools must be designed with multiple means of safe evacuation, clear wayfinding, robust fire separation, and inclusive access — not simply as towers, but as layered learning journeys that comply with safety codes while pushing spatial thinking forward.

This approach could be transformative for the Gulf region, where urban land is expensive, urban density is increasing, creating a lack of plots and the pressure on schools to innovate grows ever higher. In cities where plots are tightly constrained, a vertically zoned school offers a way to do more with less, maximising footprint without sacrificing experience. It could also introduce a more dynamic spatial rhythm to the school day: students moving up and down through zones designed for different types of learning, rather than simply travelling between identical classrooms in a corridor.

And here’s where it circles back to the central question: Why classrooms?

Because classrooms assume flatness. Sameness. Predictability. Rows. A vertical school by its very nature challenges that. It demands design with intentional flow. It encourages differentiated environments. It allows us to break free from the template of 30 desks per floor, repeating endlessly. When done thoughtfully, verticality can become a metaphor for progression in learning, ascending not just physically, but intellectually, socially, and emotionally.

For a place like Dubai, embracing the vertical school, safely, creatively, and in line with local codes, could be the next frontier in educational innovation. Not because it’s tall, but because it’s layered. Because it mirrors the complexity and variety of learning. Because it embodies a move away from the boxed-in past towards a multidimensional future.

This shift towards layered, learner-centred environments is not unique to Dubai. In fact, it echoes across contexts, even those that look, on the surface, entirely different. Whether in a vertical urban school or a rural compound, the core principles remain, design must respond to learning, not dictate it.

Flexibility, for instance, is a shared trait, though it manifests differently. In Dubai, it’s often engineered: movable walls, modular furniture, dynamic schedules. In The Gambia, it’s more improvised: teaching shifts under the trees when rooms get too hot, or classes combine when resources are limited. But in both cases, the goal is the same: to adapt space and structure around the needs of learners.

This spatial rethinking inevitably reshapes the teacher’s role too. In these open environments, educators move beyond the front of the room. They become facilitators, mentors, and co-learners. In Dubai, a teacher might be coaching a group of students through a robotics challenge while another group collaborates in a breakout pod nearby. In The Gambia, a single teacher might oversee three learning zones at once, aided by older pupils or community volunteers. The logistics differ, but the pedagogical shift, from control to curation, is consistent.

And just as the principles align, so too do the opportunities for mutual learning. Dubai might benefit from The Gambia’s emphasis on simplicity, community participation, and making the most of what you have. The Gambia, in turn, can draw inspiration from Dubai’s use of innovation to personalise learning, integrate technology, and expand what’s possible with thoughtful design.

The main takeaway is this: the no-classrooms philosophy is not powerful because of how it looks, glass walls or chalkboards, beanbags or benches, but because of what it enables. Different realities demand different responses. But when we design for learning, not just for lessons, we unlock a deeper kind of transformation. One that isn’t limited by walls, or even by context.

Beyond the Boxes

So why classrooms?

That was our opening provocation. Having explored the history, evidence, pedagogy, design principles, and real-world examples, the answer now seems clear. Classrooms were a functional solution for a different era. They served a time when learning was about transmission and standardisation. But today, we need environments that support exploration, creativity, flexibility, and equity.

The classroom isn't broken. It’s just answering a question we stopped asking.

Reimagining school design means letting go of assumptions. That learning happens in one place. That students sit while teachers speak. That progress is measured by silence and stillness. We now know better. Learning is loud. It’s mobile. It’s social. It’s messy. And so are the best learning spaces.

The future of education lies in ecosystems, not boxes. In zones that support project work, quiet reflection, movement, performance, digital creation, and community gathering. In buildings where students feel empowered, not contained.

This doesn’t mean tearing down every wall. It means questioning what each space is for and whether it aligns with what we believe about learning. It means designing intentionally, not to fit a timetable, but to serve a purpose.

Some schools will change incrementally. Others will leap forward. Some will do it with space and furniture, others with glass and screens. But the direction is shared. The classroom is no longer the centre. The learner is.

The final thought for me is this, when we design with learning in mind, without compromise, we create more than just better schools. We create a better future.

Find out a little more about how we're making sure Innovative Learning Space Design is key to the Future of Learning at Kidzink and Koda from our founder Charlotte Borghesi