Legacy Magazine

by Tracey M. Lewis-Giggetts, MBA

The assignment was to propose the design of a new campus for either an existing or fictional university complete with a visual aid and business proposal. The students, mostly architecture majors, initially found the project daunting, and in their words, corny (translation: hard and different.) I, on the other hand, found myself relieved in knowing that I could escape the exhausting and mind-numbing task of wading through a pile of heavily cited, 10-page research papers. By the time the final grade was submitted, both my students and I would be profoundly impacted in two very distinct ways.

Even in my desire for a more creative approach to the finals requirement for the Writing Seminar for Design course I was teaching (admittedly borrowed from a colleague), I couldn’t have begun to imagine the untapped well of creativity and seemingly uncommon sensibility reflected in the projects that I would eventually grade. Ninety-five percent of the architecture students presented designs that reflected their “green” perspectives. With sustainable (also referred to as green) architecture or design as the common theme, each proposal included various ways their campuses could function as both institutions of learning and shining examples of environmental responsibility.

I began to wonder if this were an isolated occurrence, if maybe I’d come across an anomaly of green consciousness within the sophomore student body or if, in fact, these babies of the ’90s had truly internalized some next level, green doctrine and were, upon graduation, preparing to launch a full-on assault on all things not-green.

To find out, I assigned the same final project the following semester to a similar demographic of students. Not surprisingly, the results were the same. The students were blending traditional design elements with non-traditional design elements that were rooted in the new sustainable concepts they were discovering in their classes and in the books they were reading. Their visual aids depicted campuses that had solar water-heating systems, explored unique and efficient ways to dispose of waste, and utilized renewable plant materials like bamboo and recyclable stone as building materials, just to name a few. Alongside their designs were proposals that offered well-balanced critiques of the sustainable design industry, including its economic implications and impact on traditional and historical structures. Some even extended their examination of sustainable design by conducting comparative analysis of the “green” industry, investigating levels of acceptance, perceptions, and technical elements most employed, here in the United States and globally.

The outcome? An explosion of ingenuity and engagement that I’d yet to see in any other class, offering a peek at the next-generation viewpoint in architecture and its function in a more “green”-conscious society. And, of course, I had my first genuinely exciting experience grading finals.

Sustainable design is often formally defined as the art of building physical objects that adhere to various principles of economical, social, and ecological sustainability. More telling, however, are the informal perspectives of students like Rhiannon Sinclair, a sophomore architecture student at Philadelphia University, who view the differences between sustainable design and more traditional approaches in terms unrelated to actual design techniques or elements. Sinclair says, “The main differences between the two could be attributed to a more cognizant approach to designing in reference to the environment but still centering the design on human comfort rather than designing for design sake.” In other words, to be a “green” architect, you must have a sense of awareness that extends beyond human comfort to the protection and consideration of the environment without sacrificing human comfort altogether.

Let’s consider sustainable design’s impact beyond the obvious environmental advantages. Even with my limited knowledge of sustainable design terminology, I understand that without a more resource-efficient and environmentally sound approach to living, the human race could find itself functioning at a deficit in the not-so-distant future. Yet, as I sat in the classroom and listened intently to the final presentations of my students, many who had only a recent exposure to sustainable design concepts, I encountered a far more significant impact wielded by this particular field of design.

The depth of awareness required by someone studying sustainable architecture creates, in my observation, a more sophisticated and innovative student (and ultimately, professional). This was greatly evidenced by the campus projects proposed in my writing course. Additionally, an interdisciplinary advantage is gained by the student as a greater level of critical thinking is developed by making complex decisions such as which “green” idea fits the function and purpose of a particular structure (vs. dumping them all into one building). Add to that the ability to articulate that decision based upon one part knowledge and two parts sensitivity toward the responsibility of the design, and you not only have a recipe for an accountable and inspiring carrier of the green legacy, but a well-rounded student who can carry these skills into other areas of their academic education.

This active engagement by students who otherwise would likely remain focused on simply regurgitating information and passing a test will inevitably grow in generations to follow as sheer necessity will encourage the use of sustainable design beyond simple trends. This is a fact that students understand. Sinclair continues, “A new ecological understanding and a realization that human behavior is impacting its own survival has created a popular demand [for sustainable design] in the building realm.” Whether or not necessity drives innovation or innovation drives the necessity, the fact remains, at least in one career path, the highly sought after “awakening” that instructors often seek to inspire in their students, is quite attainable.

So where does the future find old-fashioned, out-of-touch 33-year-olds like me who still believe that recycling and using energy-efficient light bulbs is enough of a contribution to the green movement? Most likely living in the fabulous, solar-paneled, bamboo-walled, sustainable retirement homes designed by the generation born only 15 years after us—the very students that I am so fascinated by today.

Tracey M. Lewis-Giggetts is a Philadelphia-based freelance writer, business consultant, and educator. She is an adjunct professor at both Philadelphia University and the Community College of Philadelphia.