Introduction

Schools communicate messages to students through their physical spaces, including ideals about who was imagined as a student who would feel welcome and at home. Most Australian schools reflect educational ideals from many decades with new buildings being added as the school grows (Darien-Smith & Willis, 2017). Given that until the 1980s in Australia, many children with diverse backgrounds were excluded from school (Barcan, 1980), the message for students may not be one of inclusion. Inclusive education as a relatively new educational priority may be visible as ad hoc retrofitted ramps, audio loops, and gender-neutral toilets. In contrast, new vertical schools that are being built in Australia as high-rise forms in urban locations on small blocks of land are challenging architects and educational leaders to consider inclusion and equity from the outset (Aminpour, 2023; Carroli et al., 2022), designing with intention for inclusion.

Inclusion is not easily described as it is more a philosophy than checklist (Graham, 2024). A widely accepted definition of inclusion is in the United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities, Article 24, General Comment 4 (2016) (GC4) as promoting full participation for all students in learning experiences and environments. It is possible when systems reduce any potential barriers to that participation as well as promote a vision that focuses on the well-being and success of students by designing environments that “best corresponds to their requirements and preferences” (GC4, p.4). One-size-fits-all environments are not inclusive (Zhang et al., 2022). Inclusive school design was introduced in Australia through accessibility priorities driven by disability discrimination legislation (Dickson, 2022; Heylighen et al., 2017). Inclusion is becoming more evident in space to accommodate twenty-first century learning skills (Bradbeer et al., 2017), student-focused pedagogies (Benade, 2019; Page et al., 2021), and adjustments (Cologon & Lassig, 2020). Post occupancy evaluations are beginning to focus on inclusion as more than physical aspects such as access and climate factors (Porter, 2018) but consider multiple perspectives from students, teachers, and leaders (Charteris et al., 2021; Kariippanon et al., 2018).

Inclusive school environments are more than “nice to have” ideals, they are an international priority aligned with multiple Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) (United Nations, 2015). Four have particular alignment to school spaces: SDG3 relating to “Good Health and Wellbeing”, SDG4 “Quality Education”, SDG11 “Sustainable Cities and Communities”, and SDG16 “Peace, Justice, and Strong Institutions”. SDG Target 4a requires the “build and upgrade [of] education facilities that are child, disability and gender sensitive and provide safe, non-violent, inclusive and effective learning environments for all”. As Gillett-Swann and Burton (2023, p.91) explain, “[a]dvancing the SDGs requires explicit focus on diverse stakeholder and decision-maker’s involvement, when developing built environments for young people”. Student perspectives relating to learning environments are essential to understand inclusive potential (Aldridge & Bianchet, 2022). Finding out more from students, particularly those identifying from marginalised or minority groups, living with disability, identifying as gender nonconforming, or from a non-majority cultural or religious background, is essential as infrastructure that may be largely considered “inclusive” for most, may also be experienced as exclusionary for those who do not fit within the assumptions about what inclusive facilities require.

Conceptualising inclusion for school spaces—a capability and salutogenic approach

Inclusion was theorised in this study as occurring when students feel that they can be, do and feel capable both in everyday functioning and long-term aspirations, by working with resources and choices available to them (Sen, 1985, 2005). Importantly, Sen’s approach also draws attention to human diversity, recognising that not everyone can convert the same resources into “the achievement of ends” (Sen, 1990, p. 120), and people value and choose different ends (Sen, 1985). While Sen (1985, 1990) stops short of stipulating what is to be valued, Nussbaum (2006) proposed capabilities related to: bodily health and integrity; making use of senses to experience, think, reason, imagine, create, and play; having respect for people, animals, and the environment; experiencing attachment, sense of belonging, and control. However, for them to be exercised may vary depending on external conditions and opportunities (Nussbaum, 2006; Terzi, 2010). For students, significant external conditions are the school’s physical and social environments as both resources and factors in converting resources into sets of functioning (capabilities) and ultimately the achievement of specific functionings (doings, beings, and feelings valued by both the student and the school). Such conversion is more likely when spatial design and pedagogic opportunities create a Sense of Coherence (SOC) by being manageable, meaningful, and comprehensible (Antonovsky, 1996; Franz, 2019b). The goal of SOC was presented to the students in this study as “thriving”.

SOC is at the heart of the theory of salutogenesis developed by medical sociologist Antonovsky (1979, 1987, 1996), a theory that has been highly effective in theorising the well-being experiences of students in school physical environments (Franz, 2019b). With its core values of empowerment, inclusion, and resilience, the theory critically explores forces that drive an individual towards well-being amidst life’s ever-present challenges to effectively adapt to stressors and sustain well-being.

A person with a strong SOC “has a pervasive, enduring though dynamic feeling of confidence that (1) stimuli deriving from one’s internal and external environments in the course of living are structured, predictable, and explicable; (2) resources are available to one to meet the demands posed by these stimuli; and (3) these demands are challenges, worthy of investment and engagement” (Antonovsky, 1987, p. 19). SOC’s three mentioned core components—comprehensibility, manageability, and meaningfulness—are influenced by environmental factors, ranging from social to physical, available at both personal and community levels. According to Jenson et al. (2022), school settings play a crucial role in shaping students’ SOC but there are limited studies focusing on salutogenic design in school physical environments (Franz, 2019b). Several researchers have harnessed salutogenic theory potential to contribute to inclusive education. They have examined how SOC mediates factors such as student academic achievement, level of hope, and feeling of loneliness (Idan & Margalit, 2014; Lackaye & Margalit, 2006) and student use of resources to maintain their well-being (Dell’Olio et al., 2018). Integration of salutogenic principles into teaching and learning processes has also been researched (see de Oliveira Olney & Kiss, 2021). Despite these existing studies, the theory is still under-researched in the educational context (Jensen et al., 2022) particularly physical learning environments and well-being (Franz, 2019a). Our use of SOC focuses on how the physical environment can contribute to psycho-social well-being. A capability and salutogenic approach was used to understand how inclusion was prioritised from the outset in the design of new vertical secondary schools, alongside student experiences of those environments, to inform more inclusive school spaces.

There has been longstanding interest in how the psycho-social and physical elements in school environments provide an optimal learning experience (Zandvliet & Fraser, 2006) but as Baars and colleagues note (2023) these have mostly been treated as separate ideas. Physical and social spaces were brought together by Deed and Lesko (2015) who noted how disoriented teachers and students were in large open plan spaces, and the need for familiarity and creating new pedagogical routines. Yet inclusion was not a focus. In a study of four primary school classrooms in Israel over 504 classroom observations, it was evident that flexible environments enabled more student-centred learning and reduced numbers of classroom disruptions. Inclusion was a focus through a Universal Design for Learning (UDL) theoretical lens to analyse the range of student choices in pedagogic activities, a social perspective more than physical perspective (Sasson et al., 2022). A recent study of Spanish student perceptions (García-Rodríguez et al., 2023) noted the importance of student perceptions in addressing structural inequities, and there were some resulting interrelationships in the survey constructs between the physical and social aspects of learning environments. Baars et al. (2023) helpfully identify various interconnections of physical and psycho-social aspects in higher education spaces from student and teacher perspectives and call for more empirical studies. This study brings together the physical and social spatial experiences of Year 8 students through a salutogenic theoretical perspective, prioritising inclusion in the context of vertical schools.

Vertical schools as new aspirations in Australian schools

The context of this study is the relatively new type of school in Australia. Vertical schools are being built in inner-city communities that are experiencing urbanisation, population growth, and gentrification (Swinburn, 2017). Despite the prevalence of vertical schools internationally, little evidence-based research about vertical schools is available (Carroli et al., 2022). While Taylor (2020) defines a vertical school as six storeys or higher, they are also characterised by a density and interiority unlike other school types. Common architectural features of vertical schools include atriums, complex circulation systems, and outdoor terraces (Newton, 2019). They are associated with aspirations for the twenty-first century learning (Newton, 2019), flexible timetabling, and indoor and outdoor learning (Truong et al., 2018) and relational benefits between schools and their neighbouring communities (Matthews et al., 2020). Challenges include fire safety, emergency evacuation, and student traffic flow in circulation spaces (Swinburn, 2017; Syed, 2019; Taylor, 2020). Such pedagogical and spatial differences in vertical schools compared to traditional low-rise schools indicate a need to address inclusion differently (Aminpour, 2023). A deep understanding of socio-spatial experiences of diverse students in their built context is needed (Benade, 2019) to understand how an inclusive school environment can prepare students for a future where all students experience capability and wellbeing.

Methodology

Students, adult designers, and educational leaders from three new vertical schools were part of a 3-year collective case research project Thriving in Vertical Schools (Australian Research Council, 2021; Stake, 2010). During data collection, students referred to their experiences as gender nonconforming, being from non-majority cultural or religious backgrounds, living with mobility issues, neurodivergence, and/or as elite athletes, artists, and musicians. Students were invited to create representations of their experiences to share with their schools’ architects, builder, furniture designer, school, and wellbeing leaders. The research design (Fig. 1) was based on the Lundy Model of Participation (2007) when student voice is heard by appropriate audiences and acted upon to influence decisions. This article details data gathered in response to two research questions: What were the intended design and educational aspirations for the case study schools? and What can young people be, do, and feel in their vertical school spaces?

Fig. 1
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Project design mapped to Lundy participation model (Gillett-Swann & Willis, 2024)

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Students from each school met with researchers in a workshop (1) to explore the concept of thriving spaces that enable them to be, do, and feel capable. Students took photos of spaces associated with thriving and annotated large-scale maps of their school. Students then completed a survey (2) and worked in small teams during class time to develop their initial explorations into 1-min digital storeys (3 & 4). Fifty-four video storeys were shared across four screening events (5) with adult participants. At each screening, students and adults discussed the videos, and what they each noticed and wondered (6). Adults were later interviewed (7) about what they noticed and how student voice was influencing their future practice. Finally, students in focus groups from each school were invited to interpret some of the main themes represented in data placemats (8). This article draws on two early data sources collected in the Thriving in Vertical Schools project: interviews with adult designers about their aspirations (2), and annotated maps (1) created by students. The three vertical schools were the first public secondary schools built and opened in the three states in inner urban localities for several decades (Table 1).

Table 1 Thriving in Vertical Schools Project case schools
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Research ethics was granted by the Queensland University of Technology Human Research Ethics Committee (Approval number: 5510) and multijurisdictional National research approval from the State Departments of Education. Thirteen adults, nine referred to as “designers” in this article who were architects, builders, furniture designers, and four educational leaders, were interviewed about their aspirations for the schools. Two hundred and four Year 8 students typically 13 or 14 years old (and their parents) consented to participate in data collection workshops.

Adult interviews and analysis

Adult designers and educational leaders participated in individual 60-min online interviews, with two researchers, with expertise in architecture and education. Audio recordings were transcribed, checked for accuracy and then inductively analysed by one researcher, and validated by another, to identify interrelated narrative themes of: choice, inclusion, circulation and connection, safety and security, sensory experiences, pedagogical innovation, and being a visionary school that was also a legacy and landmark.

Student annotated maps and analysis

Across the three schools, students worked with researchers in a full-day workshop where they annotated A1 sized architectural maps of each floor in their schools (Fig. 2). After exploring what “thriving” meant, students added a green dot to the map to indicate a space where they most experienced “thriving” (54%) and an orange dot for “least thriving” (47%). The dots supported participation from students who find it challenging to put ideas into words and created an instant group visualisation. As the same space often attracted both green and orange dots student annotations were vital to explain their reasons. We invited students to annotate the dots using some capability hashtags like #do create #feel safe #be relaxed. Additionally, students created their own hashtags to explain the reasons for why they had judged the space to be thriving or not thriving. The next activity invited students to add post-it notes next to their dots indicating a main story (MS) about the space as well as a side story (SS) and hidden story (HS) which is a “looking deeper” visible thinking pedagogic routine (Ritchhart et al., 2011). The research team gave examples to explain how side stories might show that spaces mean different things for some people or at different times of the day, and how hidden stories may be stories that students know and that adults do not know. The purpose was to encourage students to articulate nuanced perspectives about their spaces and to raise issues that are important to them. Students were able to read one another’s anonymous annotations and add additional post-it notes to agree, disagree, or elaborate on a story. An additional purpose of asking students to add hashtags and labelling stories as MS, SS, or HS was that these annotations were an accessible way for students to conceptually code their own annotations, enabling student voice and language to guide the researchers in thematic analysis. Figure 2 shows an example of one of the map annotations. The annotations read: #messy #be me #enjoying #flourishing #socialising and the post-it notes include the main story—MS: The seats are an ideal place to eat and socialise. You can also view art and enjoy the scenery, the side story—SS: People may litter food/wrappers making the space unhygienic. The most littered food is fruit which attracts bugs, and a hidden story—HS: People may find the space too noisy or crowded.

Fig. 2
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Close-up of student map with annotations (Willis et al., 2024d)

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These annotations reflect how student experiences of spaces showed interactions between personal (functional, acoustic, or personal space preferences), social (eating with friends), and environmental (hygiene or biophilia) conversion factors. They also illustrate how students were often aware of others’ preferences for sensory stimuli.

Visual data are labour intensive to analyse, and a large volume required a “combination of deductive and inductive approaches to…provide complementary insights” (Wall et al., 2013, p. 15). A holistic view of data spread over many pages was made possible through data matrixes that enabled comparisons, patterns, and trends to inform interpretation (Miles et al., 2014). Student annotations were transcribed into coding spreadsheets by two researchers. Each annotation was then coded theoretically by three researchers for connections to valued functioning (what students indicated they could be, do, and feel) and the salutogenic framework (manageable, meaningful, and comprehensible) with inclusion aspects noted, for example, where students indicated that not everyone feels the same way, or where they needed particular auditory conditions to feel comfortable. A code book of spatial explanations was developed from researcher memo writing and team discussions (Stake, 2006). The team then created visual representations to synthesise codes from multiple sources (Stake, 2010). The resulting principles that articulate spatial elements that influence inclusive wellbeing, wellbeing that incorporates the variety of student needs, and priorities they identified are discussed in the following section to provide a framework for inclusion with intentionality in a holistic, theoretically rich way.

Aspirations for meaningfulness, comprehensibility, and manageability

The aspirational intentions for inclusion prioritised in the designs of vertical schools by adults were grounded in considerations relating to diversity, sensitivity, and care. A welcoming environment was considered in how students would encounter the scale of the building: “We had to think about the little Year Seven arriving at a vertical campus … [a] tiny little human being greeted with this enormous space” (Designer /3). They planned to create of a sense of community that would be “tight-knit” recognising “there are definitely building factors that have to be considered, particularly kids with complex needs” (Principal /11). Interviewees stressed the importance of knowing more about student experiences but reported limited involvement by students. Inclusion was assumed to occur when complying with or exceeding design guidelines. At least one designer acknowledged an “able-bodied first” approach with “a lot of emphasis on, well, firstly able body connection by a stair, but also, lift connectivity and equal access to all areas was important” (Designer /4). Inclusion was perceived as requiring additional or altered services, such as the provision of unisex toilets, retrofitted facilities for accessibility, and quiet or refuge spaces. In one school, a hoist was retrofitted into the toilets to meet the needs of a new student, and this resulted in a new standard for all schools in that state. Social inclusion was discussed as integral to a sense of belonging and being known. In one school, this informed staff room placement in amongst student spaces: “I want my staff to know kids deeply but also in this building, work together all the time, so there's not too much that we’re not across” (Principal /11). Where designers seemed to consider inclusive aspirations in terms of an accumulation of specific building features, student annotations were analysed in terms of overall sense of thriving across multiple spaces, with the frequency represented in the Sankey diagram in Fig. 3.

Fig. 3
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Student map annotations associated with types of spaces and salutogenic principles (Willis & Gallagher, 2024)

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Students identified that many spaces impact their wellbeing, ranging from classrooms and specialist spaces such as libraries and gyms to in-between spaces such as balconies, stairs, and toilets. Spaces that were highly meaningful and manageable were frequently associated with thriving and concerns about comprehensibility and manageability more often associated with not thriving. Student annotations explained why spaces were experienced as more or less thriving.

Meaningfulness

Students are more likely to say “I feel motivated and my world has meaning” when school environments draw students’ attention to what is important and sustaining in life, and they see themselves as able to achieve meaningful connections and experience belonging and attachment. Meaningfulness is associated with capabilities of being inspired and agentic, and salutogenic environmental elements of being engaging, nurturing, challenging, and atmospheric. Examples from student map annotations illustrate spatial explanations for how these elements contributed, or did not contribute to meaningful inclusion.

Meaningfulness was evident in 37% of student annotations as evident in Fig. 4. Sometimes the student did not name the space, either because they did not see the need if they were putting the annotation next to the space on the map, or also because the spaces often had multiple uses and did not have a name. For example, the data supporting agency may seem that the student is referring to an art room; however, the annotation was associated with a large double classroom that is used for art, science, and general subjects. This decision by the school not to name the room was deliberate in terms of enabling interdisciplinary and pedagogic flexibility but also to enable the versatility of room use inherent to the density of vertical schools.

Fig. 4
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Meaningfulness elements of inclusion and spatial design (Willis et al., 2024c)

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Many students were inspired by their schools’ visible representations of inclusive culture whether through a dedicated wellbeing space with specialist staff, breakout rooms, and nooks for anyone who needed a quiet moment, or gender-neutral amenities. Students found inspiration in different spaces: HS: “The classroom is a place where courage and encouragement sprout”; HS: “The joy of making music can raise the mental wellbeing of students”; and science lab MS: “This is a creative space. I like learning visually”. Students appreciated specialist spaces in their schools where they could be agentic, create, and display their work: MS: “The drama and music rooms are spaces where people of that community can gather together and do something they love”. To have fun with friends was frequently associated with thriving spaces, like the indoor sports hall: MS: “The sports hall is a nice place to do many things with your friends; however, it can become overwhelming and loud”. Students often sought out spaces to #breathe for a second or #be me with preferred spaces having natural light, views to city skylines, and urban greenery from vantage points of balconies or breakout rooms.

Adult designers and school leaders associated engaging spaces with choices for students. Choice meant “a number of spaces…which are retreat spaces and acknowledging that everyone reacts differently to colours and glass and transparency” (Designer /4). As one designer expressed, “everyone together, but the ability to be apart as well too” (Designer /1). Principals spoke about benefits of design aspirations for “a lot of light, glass, biophilic design”. Many adults acknowledge the necessity of acoustic, air, and lighting management as well as the provision of comfortable furnishing, green spaces, and landscape. These features were also acknowledged in many student responses. Choice through provision of unisex toilets meant for one Principal (p12) “there’s no big deal” about the toilets used by LGBTIQ + students, who would use disabled toilets in the absence of unisex toilets. However, preliminary data from other project methods suggest for some students it may be a bigger deal than adults may otherwise recognise.

Implications

While meaningful inclusive aspirations of adults were mostly realised and recognised by students, student voice brings new perspectives. For example, students identified meaningful places like a seat near a tree associated with memories HS: “It was the first place me and my friends sat when we [had our] first day of school. It is very special”. Another example is that toilets may not be associated by adults as nurturing spaces. However, many students identified toilets as meaningful places for retreat and privacy, with annotations like HS: “Go there to be alone and deal with yourself and hear your feelings. You can have some privacy if you’re feeling down and you are not feeling the best” and “cry when ur BF breaks up with you”. However, when considered in relation to how different students may experience bathrooms as inclusive or not, bathroom “inclusivity” may be more complicated than simply providing unisex or all gender options. For example, unisex school bathrooms may not be truly inclusive of all, with the research team noting that the schools included students with cultural and religious backgrounds with stricter gendered protocols. These hidden stories highlighted new uses for spaces including privacy, self-care, and sustaining connections.

Comprehensibility

When students could say their environment “makes sense to me”, it was being experienced as comprehensible. Comprehensibility is associated with capabilities like being able to predict, anticipate, and make plans with certainty and requires spaces to be legible and navigable. Salutogenic elements of familiarity and authenticity also build student confidence when experiences are consistent. Student experiences show how spatial elements contributed, or did not contribute to comprehensibility.

Comprehensibility was evident in 16% of student annotations as evident in Fig. 5. A few students expressed appreciation for clear signage and colour coding that helped them navigate between levels. Many students highlighted how breakout rooms with comfortable furnishing and specialist rooms were authentic spaces for different types of learning. Spaces like the library were highly valued space as legible and familiar. More often students highlighted spaces that were not perceived as authentic or predictable.

Fig. 5
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Comprehensibility elements of inclusion and spatial design (Willis et al., 2024a)

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Frustration occurred when spaces could not be used as expected. For example, students questioned what they saw as under-use of meaningful spaces like sports areas: HS: “Most of the time, we only get to use half of the space we have” and HS: “The sports hall is not often used for sports academics/classes and should be used more”. Often these spaces were not in full use because the schools were not at full capacity, and there were insufficient staff to supervise all areas. Disrupted comprehensibility was also evident when perceived purposes were not fulfilled:

  • MS: planter box plants dead. No care. Devoid of life. SS: hire a gardener. HS: stupid fire hazards.

  • HS: the toilet cleaner always locks the toilet everytime I want to use it especially at break times.

Students desired their spaces to make sense and expressed their readiness to propose solutions whether it was to hire a gardener, or re-schedule cleaning. Classrooms that “feel like home” were “nice” in their familiarity; however, an echoing classroom was associated with discomfort, with the student associating discomfort with behavioural challenges. Students made a clear link between spaces being comprehensible when the purpose of the space was apparent or predictable.

Vertical schools face a comprehensibility challenge in terms of navigability as they are unfamiliar school types in Australia, so new for students and parents. All three case study schools featured an open atrium in the main building that aided legibility to see up and across to all floors to get a sense of the school layout. Students also found legibility in seeing how the atrium “doubles as a working and travel space”. However, an atrium also reduces the floor space available for classrooms, therefore reducing space for choices in circulation leading to another comprehensibility design challenge—stairs.

Students frequently used stairs to navigate between classes on different floors, their lockers, eating and outdoor areas with common annotations being #crowded #annoying #tiring. While a student in Fig. 5 highlighted a main story of stairs helping their fitness, their side story highlighted how stairs were “overwhelming”, giving advice to avoid stairs by using the lift. Each school had lifts placed near stairwells to be legible and provide accessibility for students with a special pass who could not use stairs. One student’s annotation effectively highlighted how stairs were associated with inefficiencies in their use of time and energy for learning, and that not all accessibility issues were visible: MS: “students walk up the stairs to get to classes/lunch. SS: children are tired and by the time they walk up the stairs they’re too tired to learn. HS: children may have an unknown injury”. Fatigue and difficulty navigating stairs can be associated with invisible disabilities such as social anxiety, challenges with interoception and proprioception (Goodall et al., 2022), personal demands such as illness or intermittent wellness, or inevitable adolescent growth spurts and bodily changes.

Students’ stories about stairs highlighted the complexity of their use beyond mere circulation. Stairs were also used for friendship and play. What was play for some students was unwelcome for other students. One game of chasing involving shutting a door to stop a friend from catching them, evident in another students’ annotation: “SS: People shut the door on other students, so they are late to class. HS: It makes them angry that they’re late and prevent students from getting out”. These stairs were also fire escape stairs, with doors designed for safety regulations. Students were repurposing stairs for play in ways the designers had not considered, additionally, their authentic safety purpose conflicted with predictable circulation purposes. Such tensions are inevitable within vertical schools where spaces often function with multiple, flexible purposes, and so posing dilemmas for designers and leaders.

Designer aspirations for comprehensibility included considerations of circulation and movement; “catering to that diversity included consideration of safety, privacy and wayfinding and was expressed in spatial and material terms” (Designer /3). Designers particularly spoke about circulation and movement as formative of the vertical buildings’ DNA recognising that, “in vertical schools, circulation spaces comprise the largest non-teaching spaces in the buildings due to the need to move large numbers of students” (Designer /7). Multi-storey implications for people living with mobility challenges and accessibility were considered particularly for emergency evacuation (Designers 7 & 4). Wide bleachers were included beside some stairways to provide alternative ways of travelling, versatility in student social seating, or instructional use by teachers. Prioritising transparency also flowed through to decisions about the transparency and visibility of classrooms through use of glass. Two schools used colour coding of different levels to assist wayfinding, alongside large numbers, and wayfinding signage (Fig. 6). School leaders also prioritised comprehensibility and meaningfulness by talking about expectations like “everyday is a leg day” as they modelled taking the stairs.

Fig. 6
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Wayfinding signs and colour coding

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Implications

Most spaces that students commented on were in-between spaces like stairs which are central to vertical schools. Student comments bring to light their expectations that purpose-built spaces will function in predictable and familiar ways, even when spaces serve multiple functions, as well as opportunities for new considerations such as design specifications for stairwells in schools to counter tiredness. Aspirations for comprehensibility through transparency were somewhat achieved with students appreciating being able to navigate through the visibility of the atrium space. However, openness and transparency can make students feel unsafe by being always observed, with annotations like: HS: “There are eyes always on me”, stimulating a need for more private spaces to assist manageability, the aspect explored in the next section.

Manageability

When students could express that “I have the resources to take action”, it indicated the environment was manageable. Manageability is associated with capabilities like being able to use the senses to imagine, think, and reason. Spaces need to be comfortable and functional, inclusive, and safe so that the environment both gives comfort and minimises stressful stimuli. Salutogenic environmental elements of connectedness and flexibility relate to capabilities of control over one’s environment through participation, care for others, and school spaces. Examples from student map annotations illustrate student experiences alongside spatial explanations for how these elements contributed, or did not contribute to inclusion.

Most student annotations (47%) were to do with manageability (Fig. 7). Importantly, manageability related to individual needs and aspirations in addition to the needs and wants of others. As well as expressing preferences for comfortable spaces, students also emphasised the importance of being able to take breaks from effortful spaces to #let them be themselves, #get energy out, #reset, and #breathe for a second. Comfort was valued and included physiological, psychological, and psycho-social/social aspects.

Fig. 7
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Manageability elements of inclusion and spatial design (Willis et al., 2024b)

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Students made clear associations between their spatial physiological comfort and their concentration. For example, one student connected the glass-walled classrooms to issues of concentration through visual discomfort: MS: “This room is just glass so its uncomfortable. SS: It’s very hard to concentrate in this room. HS: Can be very boring in this room and distracting with the other classes”. Noise, the discomforting experience of sound, was evident when students compared their learning in an uncarpeted multifunctional room to other acoustically comfortable classrooms identifying #disappointment, #noisy, #annoying #loud, #echo, #overwhelming, #bad, #sad, #loud, and #concrete (see Fig. 7).

Auditory discomfort made concentration more difficult despite connections to nature: MS: “it is hard to concentrate because it is so echoey. SS: It could be a thriving space if it wasn’t so echoey because it has nice views”. Functionality and social discomfort were also evident: MS: “the lockers are too small and have not a lot of space to fit your belongings. SS: the locker is only one level that does not match up to your class. HS: It’s near someone’s I don’t like and I get sore bending down”. Taken together, these multiple discomforts create a demand for manageability through what one student described as “an accumulation of little things”. Perhaps that is why students were equally as adamant about spaces that provided comfort (Fig. 8).

Fig. 8
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An example of a section of annotated map (Willis et al., 2024e)

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Breakout spaces connected to nature like balconies and small rooms with views attached to classrooms provided an “escape” and were often more manageable socially and acoustically: MS: “This breakout space is quiet and calm. An escape from the chaos of class. People want to escape but they are why others want to escape. HS: the breakout space can be used for kids with sensitive hearing or dislike of crowded spaces”. Students frequently made connections between comfort and managing themselves through self-regulation, reflection, concentration, focus, and learning:

  • HS: “When upset or not feeling the best, it’s a good part of the classroom to reflect and to have quiet times”.

  • HS: “It is a good place to get away from the rest of the class. Teachers can be nice and let you go alone to get your mind straight”.

Interestingly, these connections to focus were mostly in hidden stories, the perspectives students did not think adults knew much about. The demand for these spaces was also evident as these highly sought after spaces were sometimes crowded.

Feelings of crowdedness occurred when students had limited resources to control access that others had to their personal space. Spaces where students could control their personal space contrasted with other spaces in stairwells or lockers where they had to invest additional energy to managing privacy, social, and physical safety: MS: “The first floor science lockers are not safe. It gets crowded and unsafe. People can get injured there making it not thriving”. Manageability was enhanced when students had freedom to choose (agency) an aspect of meaningfulness identified by adult designers. Choice was appreciated in flexible classrooms with integrated curriculum: MS: “You are in control of your pace, what you do and how you do it. SS: people have the ability to learn about different things (subjects, interests)”. Choosing to relax in aesthetically beautiful spaces connected to nature was associated with feelings of safety and refreshment that supported manageability.

Safety was a high manageability priority for adult designers leading to features that, at times, exceeded regulatory requirements by providing “above code” balustrading (Designer/ 4), “preserving green space for the community” (Designer /5), and “getting circulation right” (Designer/7). While safety is a regulatory requirement, designers and educators also sought to reflect visionary aspirations like using artwork in the atrium of one school to protect people on the ground level from falling objects, and finding alternatives to the typical secure fencing around the schools to maintain a permeable ground plane in the school which was more connected to the urban environment.

Implications

Manageability is a challenge in vertical schools given the way that density, flexibility, and visibility amplify the experience of living in close community. Adult designers had anticipated many elements that students appreciated—acoustic treatments, comfortable couches, proximity to nature, connection to views, and breakout spaces. What was less anticipated were interactions between various elements, and how discomfort could occur in multiple little ways. More apparent too was the importance of play and “reset” spaces for students to replenish their resources, to enable them to focus and self-regulate. Vertical school environments were experienced as challenging to manage, but the student data also indicated how in their managing of the environments they developed awareness and strategies, learning how to curate their environment and live with others.

Discussion

Inclusion was a high priority in the design of new vertical secondary schools through accessibility, choice, and meaningful spaces that were valued by students for meeting diverse needs. The multifaceted student experiences of the same space were evident in the natural diversity of a large group of students and the layers of stories (main, side, and hidden). Annotations are essential with visual data (Woolner et al., 2010) and made it clear that not everyone needs the same things, and spaces mean different things. Instead of environments being identified in binary terms as inclusive or not, inclusion was being created through the interaction between the adult designer and students’ aspirations, the built environment, and social environment.

Inclusion was more likely when spaces were intentionally designed to enable choice and students could achieve valued functioning. Students were actively managing themselves in the vertical school environment and showed awareness of one another’s needs. However, it is apparent from the data that even high demand accessibility and inclusion features may become underutilised or too crowded (and therefore also unmanageable) given their status as a highly desirable space. Also apparent was that when students communicated what mattered to them, it was not always what adults anticipated, and not every student experienced spaces in the same way. Students shared how they created new meanings for spaces such as using toilets to regulate emotions, and stairs for play, a similar finding from Carter (2007) where stairs are an informal social identity-affirming counter-space. Students’ collective voices showed the cumulative effects of multiple manageability demands such as lockers, stairs, and noise influencing inclusion (accessibility) and well-being (fatigue). Comfort, which has not been a historical priority in school design, was identified as important to focus, reset their minds, and getting their energy out. Recent empirical studies (e.g. Kariippanon et al., 2018; Mäkelä et al., 2018) also indicate the critical impact of comfort on student engagement and learning in school settings. Manageability plays an important role in student wellbeing and performance (Manca, 2020) with Golembiewski (2022) describing manageability as "one of the most obvious tests of the quality of architecture" (p. 265). Crucially, a manageable spatial design, balancing diverse needs and resources, is vital for supporting students from high priority equity groups, who might experience a compromised sense of manageability (Dell’Olio, 2018). Effective coping with daily stressors demands spatial designs that empower self and social and physical environment management alongside meaningfulness and comprehensibility.

Salutogenic design is a proactive approach to design for inclusion with intentionality as it values the agency and diversity of students and the potential that the built environment of the school affords each student. Inclusion is proposed as a proactive priority for designers, with a higher likelihood of students experiencing the spaces as accessible, welcoming, and able to meet their needs when they reflect the priorities expressed in the figures in this article, that is they are intentionally designed to be authentic, comfortable, inspiring, and predictable, as part of the salutogenic principles of comprehensibility, meaningfulness, and manageability. When students found greater comprehensibility, meaningfulness, and manageability within the environment, they were able to experience a sense of coherence, to thrive. Salutogenesis is a helpful theoretical construct for fostering inclusion as Antonovsky (1987)’s approach is a strength-based approach that facilitates moving away from a deficit-based categorisation of students and merely overcoming the related barriers, like providing wheelchair ramps for physical accessibility. Instead, it enables an exploration of the many ways students engage with resources, complexities, and inherent dilemmas in striving for true inclusivity, a critical aspect of inclusive design (Kille-Speckter & Nickpour, 2022; White et al., 2023). It is also an all-inclusive framework and language for educators and designers to use when discussing and evaluating design decisions to promote empowerment at both individual and systemic levels (Lindström & Eriksson, 2011). This is significant because designing for inclusion in learning environments requires changes in the broader systemic considerations (socio-cultural values, pedagogical approach, and school-built environment) alongside accommodating varied users’ needs (psychological, emotional, social, etc.) (Lim et al., 2021; Page et al., 2021).

Direct engagement with students and seeking their perspectives is crucial for enhancing school building design (Cleveland & Fisher, 2014). One of the strengths of this study lies in adopting an experience-based participatory research design to explore concepts of thriving and inclusivity in new vertical school spaces. The voices of students who use these spaces every day, alongside designers and educational leaders involved in school design, provided an insightful picture of how vertical school spaces have been conceived by stakeholders and perceived and lived by users. Findings in this study, particularly concerning manageability dimensions, align with the previous research on educational physical environment design in higher education contexts. Budzise-Weaver et al. (2023) employed participatory photography and visual ethnography to study college students’ preferences and behaviours regarding study space usage on university campuses. Their study emphasised the importance of comfort, safety, students’ ability to control their environment, and convenient access to amenities in choosing study spaces. Baars et al. (2023) confirmed the positive role of flexibility with implications for university learning space design, which allows for rearranging learning space clusters and furniture pieces and contributes to diversity. This paper with its focus on secondary schooling, vertical schooling, and innovative theoretical approach offers a comprehensive understanding of how different spatial components interact with psycho-social experiences to influence design for thriving and inclusion.

The principles of salutogenic design outlined in Figs. 4, 5, and 7 that were developed through engagement with the student data can help school designers and educational leaders understand why students experience spaces in different ways, and potentially why students’ aspirations may differ from adult expectations. The salutogenic concepts continue to be developed through analysis of the full range of data sources in the research project. A limitation of this article is that the two data sources do not fully represent the rich interconnections between salutogenic concepts. For example, comprehensibility was less emphasised by students in the mapping activity, either because students were asked to identify only a few spaces, or students were satisfied with highly comprehensible spaces. However, the research design based around Lundy’s (2007) participation model did enable broad participation, and students were able to share their insights directly with adults who then began to take up student ideas. Additionally, seeking out the hidden and side stories made them visible so personal and collective issues could be responded to.

Conclusion

Designing new buildings is complex and demanding especially when educators, architects, and policy makers do not have a shared language (Daniels et al., 2020). This paper contributes the theoretical language for a good design conversation and adds to the field as it explains how physical spaces connect with student psycho-social wellbeing. Vertical schools, because they were a new type of school in Australia, enabled the designers and educators to have in-depth conversations prior to the design and building stage, where they considered physical and social aspects of inclusion. The concepts of manageable, meaningful, and comprehensible learning spaces can assist architects and educators to further refine the ways they design for inclusion with intentionality so it is more likely that all students get what they need within the resources that are available to them. More research is needed in the design phase as these concepts are translated into practice. So too is more research needed for specific groups of students in innovative learning environments, and in vertical schools about how to support students to manage the demands. As retrofitting is more complicated and sometimes not possible in vertical schools these concepts also assist policy makers to plan and budget how to present-proof and future-proof their built infrastructure in anticipation of developments and experiences that are not yet known (e.g. AI integration, technology, and “future” curriculum). The emphasis on inclusive design from the outset that is flexible and integrates spatial and social perspectives goes some way to meeting SDG goal 4.a, building and upgrading education facilities that are child, disability and gender sensitive and provide safe, non-violent, inclusive, and effective learning environments for all. Vertical schools with their innovative mandate provide insights for all schools about the challenges and possibilities for making the most of school physical spaces for inclusion.