The places we occupy have a direct impact on our actions, our state of mind, and our capacity to absorb information. To me, a biophilic school represents the crème de la crème of educational spaces—something not only beautiful but also wholly beneficial for student development. The question is no longer whether schools should have biophilic features but rather how to achieve them in an effective, meaningful manner. Over many years, I have had the pleasure of watching the magic of nature unfold in learning spaces. Both students and teachers can be heard exclaiming, “Wow,” when they experience both the enchantment and the straightforward benefits of learning in environments enhanced by natural features. That is my first reason for endorsing the biophilic school: because those spaces can be downright magical.
Designing Schools for Connection and Calm
From my perspective, the typical school environment can often seem stark, sterile, and uninspiring. It’s true that hard surfaces dominate, fluorescent lighting prevails, and layouts of classrooms seem monotonous at best. It can be a space that is hard to feel connected to and, at times, it can even feel a bit anxiety-inducing. The idea of detaching yourself in a familiar space might not sound right, but I’m convinced it happens. In the classrooms I’ve visited that are designed with biophilic elements, the layout, lighting, and use of color make a natural connection possible. The studies on biophilia and the biophilic design of the typical classroom are in their infancy. Much more can and should be done to understand this school design idea in a more profound way.
The offices weren’t the only spaces where biophilic design flourished. All the interior spaces were infused with the principles of biophilia, thanks to thoughtful selections of materials and a well-conceived palette. Wood, along with its virtues and warmth, was everywhere—a foundational element of the design that made the school feel like a place for human beings, rather than the cold, hard, concrete bunker that so many modernist buildings have become. There was warm, rich bamboo flooring that caressed one’s feet instead of beat them down like the sound of a struck gong, as with so many industrial floors. And there was natural cork tile that lined the walls, cork being an acoustic insulator, sound absorbing and breathable, making the school quiety as well as healthy to inhabit.
Outdoor Classrooms: Generating a Lived Learning Experience
Even as a child, I enjoyed being outdoors. The nature surrounding my home—indeed, my entire neighborhood—attracted me to explore it. I would often play in my backyard, pretending it was a far-off land, using sticks as tools to dig pretend holes, and enjoying the marvels of simple discoveries. I have carried this love of nature into my professional life as an architect. I have always sought to incorporate spaces experiencing the natural world into my designs. With my wife, that first real outdoors “classroom” for our three children lived in our Montreal backyard, where, even during frigid winters, we would engage in all sorts of nearly limitless—imagination-based!—outdoor activities.
Outdoor classrooms can enrich any subject. I’ve seen schools use them for art, with students creating “nature” sculptures or sketching the landscape. I’ve seen schools take their math classes outside, where students measure the dimensions of their outdoor space—an activity that reverberates with the stories of schoolyard geometries told in many a math class. These spaces lend themselves easily to rich discussions of all sorts of subjects.
Using Nature for Cognitive and Emotional Growth
For those of us who work in biophilic design, one of the most rewarding aspects of our job is witnessing the powerful impact that it has on the intellectual and emotional development of children. We have long pushed for biophilic design in schools based on quite a few hunches and observations, but increasingly, we have a more sound footing of scientific evidence to make our case. Environments that are rich in natural stimuli can reduce an individual’s heart rate and blood pressure, enhance mental clarity, and even improve memory and retention. All of this happens in part because the presence of nature helps the brain’s prefrontal cortex—the executive functioning hub—to operate more smoothly. After all, when was the last time you really had to think hard or creatively while sitting in a sterile, windowless room with poor air quality? My bet is that those environments don’t come to mind.
I remember talking with some high school students who went to a school that had integrated a lot of outdoor space into its campus design. One student said that they found it easier to study for exams when they could do it outside, in one of the quiet, garden-like areas. Another student said that just having a view of greenery through the windows made their classrooms feel less stifling. These students were really putting into words the connection between their environment and their mental state, and that was no simple feat.
Living Classrooms: Plants that Teach
One of the most delightful aspects of biophilic design, and the one that I might hold most dear, is the role that plants play—not just as living decorations, but as living, breathing parts of the learning environment.
In a biophilic school, plants serve as teachers in their own right, offering lessons on what it means to grow, on interdependence, and on the sustainability of the so-called “green world.”
At one of the middle schools where I taught, a greenhouse formed part of the curriculum. The students cultivated a range of plants and, in the process, learned about subjects that spanned botany, ecology, and even nutrition—everything, in fact, that is in the natural world was fair game for these sorts of lessons. “Look at these tomatoes!” one girl told me, beaming with pride, as she showed off the plants they had started from seed. “We had to learn to adjust the watering schedule based on the plant’s needs and the weather. You can’t treat a tomato like a potato!” And the thing is, with the hands-on experience they were getting with actual organisms, how could they not emerge from the experience with at least a modicum of respect and a sense that, if nothing else, they were responsible for the well-being of something that was alive?
Plants can be used in less formal and smaller manners, too. I’ve seen schools where the counter in each classroom is topped with pots holding a variety of plants, with the students in that room serving as the on-going contingent of the Green Thumb Society. Even just a teeny-weeny bit of herb garden on some classroom windowsill can serve as nature study, teach lessons in the above-noted life virtues, and otherwise allow the students to have hands-on experience in gardening. They can feel like they are part of something larger than themselves as they tend to their little window on the nature inside.
Creating Scale and Flexibility
The challenge of biophilic design requires flexibility. Often, schools face constraints of budget, existing infrastructure, and an evolving student population. The good news is that biophilic design can be both adaptable and scalable. It can be implemented in different contexts and at varying levels, with different resources and types of support, making it an accessible model even for institutions with limited means.
One of the simplest and least expensive methods of integrating biophilia into the school environment is to ensure that ample natural light and ventilation are available. For instance, just outfitting a building with basic, modern windows (as opposed to the old-fashioned glass-block style that some schools still have) can let in so much more light and make the space feel almost like it’s outdoors. Meanwhile, if schools are still outfitted with the kinds of lights most of us grew up with, replacing those lights with energy-efficient types that more closely mimic the spectral output of the sun can also help to make the place feel more life-like.
An additional approach is the inclusion of modular furniture and configurations that permit liquid and adaptable learning environments. In several schools where I’ve worked, we introduced furniture constructed from natural materials—bamboo, cork, and wood fiber laminated with recycled wood—that could easily be rearranged to form a variety of cooperative “learning pods” that accommodate many different styles and activities. One of the more flexible, student-centered learning environments I’ve encountered was in a high school that used the phrase “can’t stop, won’t stop” as its guiding principle.
The selection of color schemes can also be biophilic. In one school renovation project, we departed from the common, bright, artificial colors often seen in schools and used softer, more organic colors that mimicked the hues of the surrounding landscape. The result was a space that felt less like an institution and more like a natural part of the outdoors, which made the space conducive to relaxation and focus.
Core Value of Sustainability
Biophilic design schools are based on more than just aesthetics. Yes, they have nature-infused spaces. Yes, they have places that inspire indoors. But the biophilic design of a school is also about imparting respect for the Earth and its systems—a regard that serves students from kindergarten through college for the rest of their lively lives as Earthlings.
The sustainability-centered theme made this school stand out even more than the next eco-friendly building would. With rainwater collection systems and PV cells powering several parts of the building, the design team was able to integrate multiple sustainability lessons into the physical structure. But beyond the green-built curriculum, the school operated in a way that attempted to minimize its environmental footprint. Composting, recycling, and even gardening operations were leveraged as part of a “living curriculum.” And, in all of that, the community attempted to reach toward something resembling environmental justice.
In my view, a biophilic school truly possesses power beyond the traditional model. To me, what defines a biophilic school is not the aesthetic beauty of spaces that draw inspiration from nature; instead, I believe that what defines a biophilic school is the establishment of a profound sense of respect and care for all of creation within the hearts and minds of its students. A biophilic school goes far beyond the traditional conception of an educational institution. It educates in ways that are not restricted to the “3Rs,” alongside ways and means that are simply invaluable to its occupants.
Conclusion: An Optimistic Outlook for Tomorrow’s Schools
My future vision for biophilic design in schools reaches far beyond the current model of K-12 education. A biophilic school would serve as more than just a biologically-inspired space to impart knowledge. It would also serve as a space for intellectual, emotional, and spiritual development. It would serve as a shelter for nature-based, ecologically-focused science and math education, along with human-centered, place-based education in the humanities and the creative arts. These schools would even use every element of the environment as a teaching moment, contributing to the well-being of the students.
