Research has compellingly demonstrated that adolescents are wired to sleep in and wake up later in the morning due to the release of melatonin and a change in their circadian cycle. Therefore, forcing them to wake up early disrupts their sleep, increases fatigue and anxiety, and affects a host of physiological and behavioural metrics. Yet, despite this data, many schools around the world continue to insist that adolescents come to school at the crack of dawn. Worse, when they find it difficult to comply, we often label them lazy and insolent.
It is biology that we need to address, not personality. When Riverside’s first cohort of students reached the eighth grade, we shared this data with the children and invited their participation in deciding the time school would start and co-created a timetable with them. This is a key tenet of the design process – don’t assume, discover.
Here is an example of our students using the same design process to reimagine the timetable.
They studied the research, and verified it first-hand, clocked their own sleep cycles for a week. They then prototyped a day that started early (8 am), and one that started later (9.30 am), and mapped their energy and alertness for that week. There was no question that they benefited from the extra hours of sleep. They also worked out the impact of the later end-time, and recognised that this might compromise some of their after-school activities. They also prototyped a timetable where they went home earlier on Fridays to make up for activities they missed during the week. All these insights eventually shaped the final timetable.
If not for the design process, we would have had just one of two ways to address this – inform the parents of the timing as a rule, or succumb to pressure from them to start earlier.
The students presented their research and findings to the parents and made a compelling case for the change in timings. While some parents still quietly grumbled, they all were in awe of the way the students had gone through the design process. Not only did they convince their parents about the relevance of the new timings, but they also gained a sense of empowerment in being able to design solutions that transformed their world.
The redesign of their eighth-grade timetable is just one of many moments in their school lives where Riverside students actively used the design process to sculpt their educational experiences. The cumulative effect of using this simple and effective process not only develops ownership of their learning, but cultivates a mindset that they are not helpless; change is possible, and they can use a structured process to be the change. For me, there can’t be a more compelling reason to educate children.
The National Education Policy of 2019 also recognises the need for a “design thinking mindset”. For students to adopt and learn the design process, the environment they are immersed in should itself be steeped in this approach, not as a mere extracurricular activity, but as a guiding ethos of all they do and experience daily.
Our own understanding of the application of the design process in building a school has evolved over time. In this book, along with principles and processes, you will encounter case studies and anecdotes through which we share our insights, as well as the myriad challenges that drove perspective shifts and expanded our understanding of how to use the design process.
I must clarify that this book is not an academic exercise in the theories in education or in the study of design: it is a personal and collaborative narrative. It is an attempt to share how this simple, yet powerful process has been foundational in shaping and crafting our decisions. And if you still need a little more convincing, I would like to end this chapter with one last anecdote that makes a compelling case for the power of design!
While there are many titles one can bestow on Gandhiji, the most unexpected, perhaps, is that of a “designer”. Much has been written about the many distinct events that have shaped the freedom struggle, but the sheer beauty and audacity of his design was to bring those pieces together in service of a single goal – freedom.
Let’s apply the design process to Gandhiji’s life story.
(The current scenario) When Gandhiji landed in India in 1915, he went on a two-year train journey through India to re-acquaint himself with India and his fellow Indians (the “user”). He set out to understand what their needs were, their desires, their struggles and to make a human connection!
(The preferred scenario) While I put it simplistically, this journey planted the seeds of the vision of a free India, where all Indians would live with rights and dignity. Not only that, it was to be achieved with love and non-violence.
This is what designers will call “hatke” (out of the box) thinking, to not only come up with a solution so audacious, but have the unflinching stamina and commitment to pull it off.
And for good design, empathy is the key ingredient for impactful solutions. The most telling comment on Gandhiji’s deep core of humane values led by empathy can be summarised in this remark by historian Arnold Toynbee who said, “What impressed me most about Mahatma Gandhi was his ability to oppose the British Government without letting himself or his followers feel any personal hatred towards any of us!”
Excerpted with permission from Every Child Can: Riverside School’s Design-Led Approach to Empower Children, Kiran Bir Sethi with Mohan Gudipati and Apoorva Bhandari, HarperCollins India.
