Categories
Opinions

Dry-walls lead to dry minds

 

Jake Long
Associate Opinion Editor 

 

As students, we spend the majority of our time learning in and out of the classroom the necessary skills that will impact our future success in the industries of our desire. Learning begins from the moment we are born and is instantly full of wonder and possibility. We learn how to function on the most basic level from our parents and relatives, but then something happens around the age of five. We enter the classroom for the first time, and our institutionalized learning begins.

Most, if not all of us, have persevered through the education system, surely with a few bumps in the road, thanks in large part to our teachers. They showed up every day with smiles and can-do attitudes that inspired, and continue to inspire, us to reach for new heights. And they did so much more than just teach. They were companions and mentors and, most importantly, interior decorators.

Remember the days when the classrooms themselves were dressed to the nines and full of personality? The teachers were the ones who made those classrooms exciting. They would dedicate their dwindling summer days to laying out the mood of their rooms, with special emphasis on making learning fun. And without the pizazz, learning has become a stagnant, rigorous process devoid of the simple wonders found in our old classrooms.  

When days began with posters that have cats on them and sayings like “keep on trucking” or skeletons hanging from the walls wearing two-piece suits, learning came with a side of fun. It was a fun that was encouraging and comforting, as if the walls were saying “We may be rigid cinderblock, but we have a soft side too.” Especially when the going got rough, and those decorations would be there to offer a brief reprieve from the pressure cooker that is learning and then the encouragement needed to refocus. Those were the days when rooms had personality, when they were interactive and engaging and a part of the learning process. When they brought learning to life.

Decorations were more than just for show. They offered the opportunity to create spontaneous analogies and make connections from material to décor that otherwise would have been overlooked. They set the cogs of your mind in motion and got you thinking about how the world worked, especially when it came to the esoteric combinations some posters displayed. Why could this cat, this one normal-looking orange cat, play accordion and wear a beret? Posters such as these, provided a window into a world where anything was possible, and when looked closely enough, a mirror that showed anything was possible in this world too.

Now, let’s leave the nostalgia behind and discuss the practicality of the matter. When you think of a room in any context, at home, in restaurants, the airport, you realize that the walls of the rooms are filled to the brim with paintings, tapestries, and other wall ornaments. These decorations give us something to occupy our minds as we sit or wander to our respective tables, benches, or chairs. They are there to showcase artwork and the conscious effort an artist took to create. Then, how come, that some of the most important rooms in our lives, the college classrooms, are akin to walls of a prison, barren?

It could be as simple as the fact that multiple professors use the rooms to teach their classrooms. The professors don’t feel an emotional attachment to their room either, so feel no need to add their personality. This is completely reasonable, but would it be so hard for someone over the summer to go from room to room and hand a poster here and there, or even better, student-made artwork?

The point is, just because learning becomes an investment does not mean it has to lose the creative provocation, which is often communicated through classroom decoration. Without that central element of the classroom, college classrooms can be bland and lacking external motivators that give the extra kick needed to get excited about learning.