While in recent years architectural education programs worldwide have recognized aggressive patterns and unproductive optics in the design studio environment, there remains a question about “what sort of architect” should emerge from these manifold programs. Every accredited academic institution has an obligation to help students become competitive in the professional field. However, by borrowing the descriptions of a series of educational models observed by education researcher Jean Anyon that use economic constraints and subjectivity to determine curriculum, this article argues that the education of the architect too often relies on ‘producing’ industry-ready graduates and not enough energy on providing them with the skill-sets to interrogate our discipline’s entanglements with political and economic structures in and outside the architectural studio. This is explored through a terminal graduate-level architectural design studio taught at the University of New Mexico, School of Architecture + Planning, a program in the American Southwest / Mexico-United States Border Region that practiced ways of resisting an architectural education that shapes students based on their economic status.
In 1980, Jean Anyon, a researcher in education and policy, presented a theory central to this paper called “Social Class and the Hidden Curriculum of Work,” which states that “public schools in complex industrial societies like our own make available different types of educational experience and curriculum knowledge to students in different social classes,” which has a direct impact on the type and structure of “work” that students experience in class. Documented in Anyon’s study were public K‑12 schools and students in medium-sized cities and suburbs, which played a significant role in helping identify the pedagogical objectives and protocols prevailing in each school. The curriculums Anyon identified were categorized as working class, middle class, affluent professional class, and affluent professional school and executive elite.[1]
A working-class curriculum, which this paper will later use to compare to architectural education, is intrinsically tied to "practical" education models and prioritizes “docility and obedience.” Like the others, the category borrows from how job sectors are categorized, where working-class curriculums parallel the “routine and mechanical” components of a trade or field that the individual worker is unfamiliar with. This gives the working-class curriculum its signature characteristic: the regiment of the workday. Another significant component is the context given to assignments, as teachers emphasize the procedural importance of assignments without providing their meaning or learning objectives.3 The impact and value of education are not instilled in a curricular model where the primary outcome of these curriculums is routine over critical thinking. The middle-class curriculum is not much better in this regard, primarily concerned with following a strict set of instructions that lead to a single correct answer. In this curricular format, students are not encouraged to deviate from the structure set by the teacher. While this builds routine and the importance of protocol, creativity, however, is limited. When asked to express themselves, it is typically secondary to the assignment and used only to motivate students by making school-work more exciting.
The hidden curriculum models that proceed with working and middle curriculums increasingly develop more assertive student behaviors. In an affluent-professional curriculum, many of the students’ parents worked in highly educated and well-paid professions. This curriculum centers on creative activity in which students independently develop the ideas and concepts in their work. Assignments result in more writing, illustrations, and crafts, as much of the work depends heavily on gathering resources needed to complete assignments. This emphasizes free movement within the school, where students can go to the library for a book freely. The student’s intellectual potential is realized in the executive elite curriculums, where problems posed to students must be critically reasoned. The structure of completing an assignment is entirely dependent on the student to conceptualize rules and apply them to find solutions. The final model, executive elite school curriculums, expands on these objectives by encouraging students to exercise analytical skills and reasoning to work through complex problems. The role of students as peers also evolves as they are encouraged to disagree, challenge, and debate subject material in the classroom, thus cultivating a more rigorous academic body.
The timing of Anyon’s study is significant because it came nearly three decades after public schools were desegregated by the United States Supreme Court ruling on Brown v. Board of Education and 23 years after the United States Congress passed the Immigration and Nationality Act, which ended numerical restrictions by country of origin on immigrants allowed to enter the United States. In addition to surveying how curricula vary based on economic class, this study reflected how public school education is formatted with an increasingly ethnically diverse and mixed-status population. This study pointed to obvious inequities in education that mirror the economic struggles of minority groups. This article posits that such approaches of aligning educational models to the economic status of the surrounding communities keep students from breaking away from generational poverty and precarity.
One of the primary differences between the working-class, middle-class, affluent, and elite hidden curriculums that Anyon discusses when seen from an architectural educator's perspective is the dynamic between teacher and student. In the working-class curriculum, the teacher primarily manages the execution of protocols and presides over the class as a supervisor. Wherein middle, affluent, and elite professional curriculums, teachers increasingly perform the role of moderator, advisor, and critic. It’s important to emphasize that affluent and elite curriculum models form community and collegiality among students, while the working and middle-class curriculums disperse students with individually driven assignments. If the objective of higher education is the pursuit and production of knowledge, then a professional architectural curriculum that seeks to build new methodologies in the design studio setting might have more success in advancing practice in the architectural profession.
Shaping Bodies & Identity in Architectural Education
Since the late 1980s, the “hidden curriculum” has been a lens to evaluate architectural education. In a recent issue of the Journal of Architectural Education on “Health,” architectural educators and researchers Naomi Stead, Maryam Gusheh, and Julia Rodwell summarized over 35 years of similar studies that unpack the hidden curriculums in architectural education. Their article, “Well-Being in Architectural Education: Theory-building, Reflexive Methodology, and the Hidden Curriculum,” states that a power dynamic between students and instructor, or as they put it, “master and apprentice,” had historically led to “narrow or skewed understanding of design ‘qualities,’ reinforces societal power structures, discriminates against women and minorities and the ‘uncultivated,’ and “fosters inaccurate expectations of the profession in terms of scope for design and creativity.”[2] Stead, Gusheh, and Rodwell revive studies on hidden curriculums in architectural education of the past to call for teaching practices that prioritized “both excellent architectural practice and the well-being of its people.” This article addresses the same points in calling for an architectural education that doesn’t shape students based on economic class or treat them as workers who may never have greater influence over the discipline.
The parallels are quite clear in architectural education when compared to Anyon’s description of a working-class hidden curriculum, specifically in architectural design studios taught in United States schools, which are essentially taught in a laboratory format. In the studio, students develop building proposals through a set of assignments ranging from precedent analysis and studies on form and spatial arrangements. The instructional contact time for these courses, where faculty are physically present in class to advise and provide critical feedback, can range from 8–12 hours per week over two to three sessions. In an undergraduate studio, that contact time can range up to 12–15 hours per week for a graduate studio. In 1995, Garry Stevens’ article, “Struggle in the Studio: A Bourdivin Look at Architectural Pedagogy,” made a similar point when examining the architectural studio as “vocational training that is also intended as a form of socialization aimed at producing a very specific type of person.” Stevens points to the common practice of “longevity” in the architectural studio, “ensuring that only students with the right sort of social upbringing pass through the system to graduate.”[3] However, I argue that when architectural education in a working-class community subscribes to these same practices, students aren’t just being “filtered,” as Stevens puts it; they are also being conditioned into the regiment and posture needed for an 8‑hour workday that will often exceed due to the amount of work to be done. In the studio, students often need to prove that they “have what it takes” with stamina and complete work, which aligns entirely with a working-class education.
The architectural design studio is at the center of architectural school curriculums in the United States. In terms of time, it is where students spend most of their time receiving instruction, whereas other courses, such as history, theory, and technical courses, are formatted as seminar and lecture-based sessions. In the studio, students are expected to individually develop their projects while waiting to be visited by an instructor for feedback; they are also encouraged to seek advice from their peers despite a lingering objective to please the instructor, who is seen as the central critic in the studio and will have an outsized role in determining final grades and advancement into upper-level studios. The instructor sets project prompts, and parameters are often predetermined and highly calculated, rarely allowing for student perspectives to emerge in their work. These dynamics in the studio setting further parallel the professional architectural office setting and frame the instructor as the employer as students try to align their work with the instructor’s bias in aesthetics, form, and methodology.
The approaches to teaching architectural design described above, suggest to students that becoming a successful architect requires certain natural abilities rather than ones they will develop by learning. Psychologist Carol S. Dweck describes in her book Mindset: The New Psychology of Success the difference in learning approaches, claiming that “people with a fixed mindset—those who believe that abilities are fixed—are less likely to flourish than those with a growth mindset—those who believe that abilities can be developed.”[4] This is where our focus on architectural education as “vocational training” with the goal of “industry preparedness” needs to also convey a “growth mindset” for students who may not come from the walk of life that naturally leads to higher education, such as working class and first-generation students.
The School’s Context Informs Studio Approach
The primary reason for re-evaluating hidden curriculums stems from geography and economic class's roles in determining educational models for students of varying experiences in Anyon’s studies. For instance, the working-class curriculum that Anyon identified was shaped by the fact that parents of the children attending the surveyed schools were primarily unskilled workers with blue-collar jobs. The communities they come from struggle with poverty and unemployment rates that are higher than the national average in the United States. Anyon’s study provided a clear case study that linked the educational models offered in schools to the demographics and economic class of the enrolled students. While these identified categories were found in K‑12 schools, they remain relevant to architectural education, where the pressure to prepare students for professional practice erupts into a debate between technical and skill-based or conceptual and research-driven curricular models. This pressure increases when an architecture school is in a region impacted by economic challenges.
In what follows are the methods and outcomes of an architectural design studio taught in the Spring of 2021 at the University of New Mexico, School of Architecture + Planning (UNM SA+P), one of the more affordable institutions in the country, offering undergraduate and accredited graduate degrees in architecture accredited by the National Architectural Accrediting Board (NAAB). In the 2020–21 academic year, when the case study course in this paper was taught, the UNM SA+P had an annual in-state undergraduate tuition of $8,161.00 which is, when the case study course was taught, which is 28% lower than the recent average cost of architecture schools tuition.[5] The school is located in Albuquerque, New Mexico, USA, 268 miles north of the nearest port of entry along the México-United States border. In 2018, according to the American Immigration Council, 10% of New Mexican residents were immigrants, meaning there is a substantial amount of mixed-status families in the state, as nearly 58,000 U.S. citizens and New Mexico residents lived with at least one undocumented family member.[6] Furthermore, New Mexico has one of the highest poverty rates in the US.[7] The education rates in New Mexico rank 42 in the country, with the third highest poverty rate, ranks 34th in unemployment[8], and nearly half of the student body at UNM are first-generation college attendees.[9] This means that the students at these institutions come from communities that need the agency of an equitably built environment. Therefore, education and knowledge production must be seen as a liberating power, and their experiences must be leveraged to uncover counter-modes of practice.
The Border as a Design Studio Topic
The México-United States border and its communities remains a reductive topic in news media and policy debates as narratives of violence, trafficking, and immigration.[10] Succumbing to these narratives have been trends in architectural education to view the border region and its complex filtering of capital, material, and labor as a fortification problem to solve. This approach is deeply rooted in a traditional architectural scope as design projects focus on either the materialization, de-materialization, or circumvention of the México-United States boundary. Many of the design projects published or circulated from these studios operate on the stereotype that immigrants and laborers reside close to the border, thereby overlooking how the border manifests in buildings and spaces beyond the legal boundary. This stems from architecture programs that prioritize preparing industry-ready graduates and, therefore, adopt a vocational model of education rather than preparing their graduates to investigate and uncover the agency to address sobering perspectives of our practice. This industry-driven model limits the academic institution’s potential to produce new knowledge through research and exploration.
In the Spring of 2021, a graduate research studio taught at the University of New Mexico, School of Architecture + Planning, titled “Citizenry Exclusions,” explored the México-US border as not a static barrier but as a translation of experiences and spaces. This studio included 10 students enrolled in the Masters of Architecture program. Of the total, five students were either from New Mexico or had been long-time residents, while two were from another part of the country, and three were international students intending to stay in the United States following their studies. The significance of this makeup was that not all students had the typical experience associated with border subjects. So, in introducing the studio topic, students read a chapter from Guy Standing’s book, The Precariat: The New Dangerous Class, called “Migrants: Victims, Villains, or Heroes?” which discussed the nuances of the characterization and circumstances of migrants. Together, we discussed how the term “border subjects” can broaden to include those whom the economic and security policies of the border have impacted.[11] An example discussed was how labor markets are activated across the border and beyond by purchasing a vehicle at a dealership in the United States. By loosening the subject’s relationship to the border in these discussions, the studio took a unique approach by examining citizenry as a form of civic participation—not legal status.
These topics have traditionally been relegated by the traditional scope of architectural education and had limited scholarship. Yet, the students participating in these courses have first-hand experience as border region residents or newcomers to the state or country. In one way or another, they experience subjectivity and have an untapped sense of empathy with the more direct collateral groups of the border. Therefore, the studio's methodology started with maps that identified and traced collateral human and or environmental subjects that have yet to be framed by the architectural scholarship on the border.
These mappings track labor between Mexico and the United States and remittance flows from mixed-status communities to other countries. This research led students to recognize the Mexico-United States border as not merely a boundary between two countries but each country’s border with the rest of the world. (Research and Drawings by Natasha Ribeiro and Sam Fantaye)
(Un)mapping the Border to Find New Subjects & Typologies
To ensure students developed their own positions on the Mexico-United States border and legal/illegal immigration, a topic that has become politically divisive in the United States, the semester began with a study that would contextualize the border’s political, economic, and social impacts. The exercise was called “Typologies I: Political Geographies,” which asked students to draw the border without affirming the Mexico-United States boundary and remapping the social, ecological, economic, and infrastructural flows that filter through. An emblematic study from this exercise was a series of drawings by Natasha Ribeiro and Sam Fantaye that found manufacturing and assembly sites, which leverage the border labor markets, to be nearly evenly distributed across Mexico and the United States. [ 1 ] Their study suggests that economic and security policies at the border shape a broad population of subjects globally.
Students produced a series of tracings of trans-border commuters over time to identify spaces where the power dynamics of the border can be reversed. This study prompted Ribeiro to re-resign the Port of Entry Booth and the Crossing Enclosure for moments of congregation and gathering. Her work recognized that trans-border commuters could activate these constricting spaces to build solidarity and community. These proposals added timber to the port of entry’s palette to address the pollution produced by mass volumes of idle vehicles waiting to cross the border. The long commute times at the border were further addressed in redesigning the Typical Single-Family Home, where a shear between levels uncovered spaces that allowed residents to share domestic activities that are often too difficult to manage or complete for trans-border populations. (Research and Drawings by Natasha Ribeiro)
In the second exercise, “Typologies II: Dependent Systems,” students identified the collateral human and non-human subjects shaped by the border as a filter. In this exercise, Ribeiro furthered her studies by focusing on the trans-border population in Tijuana, Mexico. While national news media regularly profile the populations crossing the border as groups seeking long-term settlement in the United States, they fail to recognize that many who cross are border residents crossing daily for work, school, or home. To them, the border is a typical daily commute. Yet, the average time spent waiting at the port of entry can be as much as four hours, which is valuable time away from their home life.[12] “Time” became a measure for the border that threaded (1) the Port of Entry’s US Customs Booth, where commuters experience subjectivity and confrontation, (2) the Crossing Enclosure orders commuters into a single-file line, and (3) the Home in Tijuana, where commuters’ home is interrupted by the length of travel to and from, as the architectural focus of Ribeiro’s project. These typologies were further examined and re-designed in “Typologies III: Buildings,” with the objective of analyzing the siting, construction, and material of each uncovered typology to propose counter-models and spatial zones where the public can be framed. [ 2 ]
This drawing series follows the spatial experience of deportees following ICE raids and arrests. Beginning with cage-like facilities in Aurora, Colorado, then traveling by bus to Florence, Arizona, where groups board a plane to Central and South American countries like Mexico, Honduras, and Guatemala. Once arriving, deportees are permitted to stay in a facility for several days while they find work and residence. Through his drawings, Romero highlights furniture arrangements and alternative enclosures that limit the latent solidarity among them. (Research and Drawings by Nicholas Romero)
Another thread of research that emerged in this phase was Nicholas Romero’s study on the flow and sites of deportations from the United States to Mexico. Rather than mapping this from the scale and frame of the map, Romero felt it important to draw deportees through space and time in order to determine moments of potential community building. He surveyed what little photographs and recorded interviews exist of immigrant detention and landing sites in the United States or Mexico to draw a series that framed space and subject equally to convey the untapped influence the enclosing architecture could have towards building solidarity among deportees. [ 3 ] Romero’s work was significant in the studio since it tracked the “other direction of migration” heading south and gained a latent understanding of border issues while leveraging the architect’s ability to investigate and imagine space and activity, thus expanding our disciplinary scope.
It should be noted that the objectives for each exercise are presented before its distribution. The intent is to share in the trajectory of the studio and allow student perspectives and the developing directions of their projects to determine the logical next steps in the studio. At this point in the studio, the students already have a far clearer sense of their interests and how they’ll transition from research to design. Therefore, as the instructor, I am responsible for setting the learning objectives following the school's curriculum. However, I share the responsibility of structuring the process and deliverables of each exercise with the students. In doing so, we can counter the” directions” and “orders” driven curriculum and towards exercising management and leadership skills.
Prototyping New Border Typologies
The final exercise, “Prototypes,” asked students to propose a new generation of typologies of border region architecture. By this point, students have a new sense of the “border beyond the boundary” by tracing the flows that intersect the border to identify an architectural scope in the typologies that most influenced and shaped the border subjects. Additionally, students developed a heightened sense of responsibility in the studio and their project as they determined the focus and methods.
While the Mexico-US Border boundary is often seen as a transient, this project proposes new mixed typologies that draw and neutralize the political, economic, and ecological edges that make up the border. Ribeiro continued to seek ways in which the border’s long commute times could be addressed, which led to proposals for mixed-use housing that also engaged the region’s diminishing environment and ecologies. The form of her project was shaped by the many intersections that a border has but has yet to materialize. (Design Work by Natasha Ribeiro)
The project that emerged from Ribeiro’s research proposed a network that provided “distributed shared spaces, such as bedrooms, living rooms, gardens, (etc.) to enhance the daily lives of Tijuana-based cross-border commuters.” Her project would allow respites along the border commute where domestic and communal life can resume. Recognizing another collateral subject of the border, Ribeiro also emphasized that by dispersing the home and work throughout the border region, we’d greatly “reduce the region’s carbon emissions due to less driving and diminished idling cars.” [ 4 ]
Starting with a mapping that traces an immigrant laborer traveling to Chicago for work from the surrounding suburbs, Blair developed an overlaid drawing that threaded the spaces they activate over time. This study led to a scheme that situated a network of semi-public spaces in a typical city block where this population can work, live, and gather within or nested between private property boundaries. (Design Work by Njia Blair)
A project by Njia Blair began by tracing a major migration route to dense Midwest cities like Chicago. Blair then identified how mixed-status families continue contributing to their communities and the economy while remaining concealed. Even in sanctuary cities, there is a fear that disputes local sympathy that during the Trump presidency, the administration’s feverish crackdown on illegal immigration would ultimately catch up with them. Blair identified the food truck, the grocery store, and the home as spaces that simultaneously allowed for participation in the community while having a sense of security. After a series of studies that redesigned and combined interfaces and spatial devices, Blair designed a new inner block enabling a “nested” public domain in Chicago communities. [ 5 ]
In this studio, we set out to obtain a new understanding and reach of the Mexico-United States border. One that would have a way to a larger unconscious body of border subjects shaped by spaces beyond the border. In our research together, we identified groups shaped by these dynamics and proposed new typological counter-models that can foster collectivity and solidarity, such as housing, schools, and markets. While producing high-caliber work is an essential outcome of every studio, it is not the only measure of success, as ethical reasoning and empathy outcomes are as critical as coherent arguments and technically sound work. Thus, advancing from the “practical” model of a working-class curriculum and combining elements of skills-learning through drawing research and developing intellectual rigor by asking students to adapt their architectural knowledge to identifying and designing for new subjects. One of the most valuable outcomes of this studio was that students no longer saw the border subjects in their research and design work as different from themselves but instead realized their parallels and complicity in their own lives, thereby transcending the boundary between architect and subject.
Disciplinary Impacts
This course was taught in a region where many architecture schools emphasize the production of industry-ready graduates. While it is an objective in these courses to provide them with the skills and competency for professional practice, it is a parallel priority to do so without conditioning them for the social inequity they may find in the profession. Therefore, the studio’s content, structure, and pedagogical approach were grounded in countering the hidden curriculums in architectural education associated with shaping students based on economic class and pre-determining their future in the profession. Instead, the experience in these studios asks students to develop projects that position the role of community leadership and social responsibility.
The effects of an architectural education in which diversity and a growth mindset are valued have the potential to transform how architects will interface with these growing populations. The students who graduate from the University of New Mexico School of Architecture + Planning entering practice today will be crucial in supporting communities in New Mexico and the Southwest region. An opportunity exists to prevent the established exclusion dynamics that impact major cities today. Furthermore, the UNM SA+P is the only NAAB-accredited school in New Mexico. Because graduates tend to stay in the Southwest region to practice, many of the school’s alumni start or operate some of the most active architectural practices in the state. As the American Southwest continues to experience population growth in mixed-status communities[13], urban sprawl, as well as the increased effects of climate change[14], an architectural education that instills social and environmental justice values can produce practitioners that design with the community in mind. These social and cultural potentials exceed the vocational model at many architectural programs. The concluding position of this article is that architectural education must not limit learning objectives based on a student’s economic background but instead value their unique perspectives, identities, and walks of life to build toward a more just architectural discipline.