School Buildings or Shopping Centres?

When we think about school improvement, we often focus on curriculum, leadership, or pedagogy. Yet, the physical architecture of a school is a silent but powerful force shaping its culture. A building is more than bricks and mortar—it communicates values, priorities, and aspirations. Sometimes it does this intentionally, but too often, it sends mixed signals or even undermines the very culture we want to build.

Consider the case of one academy in Peterborough, funded by the Building Schools for the Future (BSF) Programme and completed in 2007. Its design was bold and futuristic: a cloud-shaped structure with curved, glass-fronted classrooms and a sweeping glass-and-steel roof that cascaded over a large central atrium. The architectural firm behind it was better known for designing corporate headquarters for multinational giants, not schools. With an estimated cost of nearly £50 million, this academy was reported to be one of the most expensive schools ever built in Britain.

Walking into such a building is undeniably impressive, but it raises a fundamental question: What is the purpose of such architecture? Is it to inspire students? To showcase success and innovation? Or does it risk being more about branding the school than building a culture that supports teaching and learning?

The Shopping Centre Effect
During my visits to several BSF schools, I noticed a recurring theme: many were trying to make a grand architectural statement. In one particular school, the open-plan upper-level classrooms were visible from the ground floor, creating an environment that felt eerily similar to a shopping mall. While visually striking, the acoustics were less so. The open design amplified sound to such an extent that lesson changeovers felt like arriving at Euston Station during rush hour.

While the school managed the environment well, architecture in this case became an obstacle rather than an asset. It looked good on a prospectus, but it made the day-to-day experience of teaching and learning more challenging.

The Windowless Office Problem
Another school I visited had administrative offices with no external windows—small, enclosed, and claustrophobic. Staff commented on the lack of natural light and how it made the space feel disconnected from the life of the school. What message does this kind of design send? 

What Architecture Says About Culture
Every physical space communicates something. In the best cases, architecture can inspire a sense of belonging, pride, and curiosity. It can reflect values like openness, creativity, and community. In the worst cases, it can alienate staff and students, prioritising aesthetics or cost over functionality and comfort.

The point is not that schools should aim for grand, expensive architecture. Indeed, many school leaders find themselves with buildings in need of significant refurbishment or even a new build entirely. It’s that every design choice—whether for a £50m building or a £50 classroom refurbishment—should start with the question: What culture are we trying to build?

Culture Without Construction
You don’t need to build a new school to create a positive cultural environment. Small but thoughtful design choices can make a huge difference:

• Classroom layouts that promote collaboration rather than isolation.

• Staffroom locations that encourage connection between departments.

• Student-facing spaces that feel welcoming, rather than sterile or intimidating.

Even something as simple as where staff offices are placed can impact communication and culture. A leadership team hidden in a remote corridor communicates something very different from one located at the heart of the school.

The Lesson for Leaders
As leaders, we must ask ourselves:

• What does the environment of our school say about our values?

• Are we creating spaces that promote calmness, respect, and curiosity, or are we inadvertently designing for chaos and hierarchy?

The architecture of a school is not just a backdrop—it’s a living part of the culture. If we want to create better schools, we need to start paying closer attention to the messages our spaces are sending.

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The Politics of Parking in Schools

At first glance, school parking may seem trivial—something outside the serious business of school improvement or leadership. But scratch the surface, and it becomes a surprisingly rich symbol of power, priorities, and culture. In my recent discussion on Teachers Talk Radio, I explored how something as mundane as a car park can reveal deeper truths about school
leadership and values.

At the leadership level, parking can operate as a symbolic act. The location of the headteacher’s car is not just a logistical decision—it can reflect and reinforce their perceived role within the school community. This is not necessarily a criticism—there may be perfectly legitimate reasons for such an arrangement; indeed, many schools have limited parking space. However it is important to acknowledge that it carries symbolic connotations.

I once worked in a school where the head parked daily in the disabled bay, despite not having any physical need to do so. The rationale was convenience—it was the closest spot to the school building. But the unintended symbolism was far more powerful. It conveyed a message—perhaps subconsciously—that their own time, convenience, and position outweighed consideration for others. The car park became an unspoken expression of hierarchy and entitlement.

Contrast this with the teacher or leader who reverses into a space each morning. While this might seem efficient or even responsible, it can also carry cultural implications. Reversing into a space—ready to drive straight out—may suggest a mindset already anticipating departure. It can subtly imply a transactional approach to the school day: arrive, deliver, leave. This is not to criticise the act itself (many do it for safety), but to illustrate how these unconscious habits can carry symbolic meaning.

Parking politics aren't limited to school leaders, of course. As Lindsay Mason, an Advanced Skills Teacher, pointed out in a 2013 blog post on @TeacherToolkit, occupying someone else’s self-designated parking spot can be as provocative as using their favourite coffee mug in the staffroom. It's not really about the parking space or the mug—it's about territory, identity, and belonging. In tight-knit school cultures, these small acts can trigger disproportionate emotional responses because they represent something more.

In sociological terms, this is the realm of symbolic interactionism—where meaning is created through everyday interactions and shared symbols. Who parks where, how, and why can serve as a barometer of school culture: collegial or hierarchical, inclusive or individualistic, humble or status-driven.

So, what can leaders learn from the car park?

1. Be conscious of the symbols you create. If you occupy the most prominent space, what does that communicate to others?

2. Recognise the emotional landscape of school life. For many staff, particularly in pressured environments, territorial cues matter.

3. Use the mundane to read the culture. Sometimes, school improvement doesn’t begin in the classroom—it begins in the car park.

Culture is built not only in grand statements but in a thousand tiny rituals. If we want to change the culture of a school, we may have to start with the car keys.

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