Design, Space, and Power in South Africa

By Ellen Schneider ’17

During our trip to South Africa, I often felt as though our itinerary must have been specifically designed to include something that appealed to each person’s specific interests beyond comparative and international education. Art and architecture, which I have always loved, played far more of a role in our course travel than I could have anticipated, and I was utterly delighted. Our trip through educational NGOs and schools in Cape Town and Johannesburg consistently encouraged us to engage with the design of the physical spaces where education happens. In some settings, discussions of architecture and design were formally facilitated, but in other contexts, the physical settings for learning were too striking to be ignored, despite not being the focus of that particular visit.

On our first day in Cape Town, we toured Inkwenkwezi Secondary School in the Dunoon township. As a result of the Apartheid system of racial segregation, Dunoon, like other townships, is populated primarily by members of one non-white racial group, and the community grapples with poverty, minimal infrastructure, and subpar government support. On this visit, in addition to learning about the challenges of schooling in townships, I fulfilled a dream of getting to pick an architect’s brain as Heinrich Wolff, the architect behind the space, showed us around Inkwenkwezi.

He described the challenges of working with the national government, which forbids schools from having more than a few trees, while also building a space that works for teenaged learners. I was fascinated and thrilled to hear about how he worked around the government and its racist, classist building codes to create a sturdy building that would last and inspire pride in members of the learning community. I know it’s important for students to feel connected and valued at school to be successful, and Wolff presented a very compelling argument that a nice physical space can be a powerful tool for sending that message to students.

Later, we saw more examples of beautiful schools designed specifically to provoke pride in learning for young people, especially after apartheid policy left non-white students with uninspiring school facilities, but only Wolff also talked about making school buildings user friendly for teenagers. He added a number of open, upper level hallways, small nooks, and tiered concrete to allow for hanging out, goofing around, and being teenagers between classes. As I begin working in US schools myself, I hope to similarly encourage the creation of physical spaces that aren’t just beautiful, practical for learning, or awe-inspiring, because it is just as important for learning spaces to be respectful of the social and personal needs of their teenaged learners. More of Wolff’s commentary on this school can be found here:  http://www.wolffarchitects.co.za/projects/all/inkwenkwezi/

Later, we went on to tour the Sozo Foundation, a non-profit that aims to empower residents of the township in which it is located through tutoring, career training, and gardening initiatives. There was no explicit conversation about design or architecture there, but the physical space Sozo designed for itself reflected and reinforced their mission of spreading love and respect. The outside of the building was painted in bright stripes (pictured above), mimicking the bright colors of township residential architecture and making the space appealing to anyone using it. Additionally, the idea of instilling pride in and showing respect for learners through beautiful design came through in the Sozo garden. The woman who showed us through the garden did not explicitly point it out like Wolff did, but there were still little details that made it special, like a Koi pond. They could have used all of that space to grow food just like Wolff could have used all of the school’s lot for classrooms, but both space designers added details and care to show a holistic, human understanding of learners’ needs without a word. These people showed me that you can verbally validate and express pride in your students as much as you want, but physical space speaks more powerfully and more consistently than any one teacher ever could.

Our final school visit took place a few hours outside of Johannesburg at Labone. Labone was founded on platinum money by the king of the Bafokeng nation to nurture proud, well educated young people within his community. The physical space of the school is spectacular. Primary grade classrooms each have their own bathroom, garden, and several interior learning spaces. The school grounds are centered on a stunning amphitheater, and each teacher had their own large, bright office attached to their classroom to study and apply the best in educational theory and research to their work. Even students’ uniforms, which were brightly colored and heavily embroidered, added to the total beauty of the setting.

However, at least to me, the school felt a little too grand. The buildings were overpowering and lacked a sense of cosiness and a lived-in feeling, and the beautiful uniforms seemed hard to run and play in. The Sozo Foundation and Inkwenkwezi may not have had a garden in every room or a massive vaulted outdoor cafeteria, but they did show evidence that the spaces were designed with respect for the learners that they had, not the learners they wanted to form children into. I still love grand, imposing architecture, but thinking about buildings on this trip reminded me how important it is to holistically respect learners as they come in as whole people, adapt everything about your learning environment, including the space, to the kids using it, embrace and appreciate that those kids are kids and need a space that responds to that, and, above all else, find ways to add as much beauty as possible to each school day.