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Plan for and support student learning through appropriate approaches and environments

Contextual Background:

Group tutorials are vital for the effective delivery of the course, offering flexibility in terms of staff time and space.

Beyond the logistical necessities, it is well known that they foster community and encourage peer-to-peer learning.

However, there are challenges presented in group tutorials, particularly at CSM, where we have students from vastly diverse backgrounds. Low confidence, different levels of English language and neurodiverse ways of thinking can sometimes hinder engagement and peer-to-peer critique.

While some groups naturally form communities, others struggle to connect. Delivering effective group tutorials at CSM has requires a particularly thoughtful planning and continuous reflection.

Evaluation:

To address challenges, there have been different experimental strategies to support group tutorials:

Planning: Mixing students from different backgrounds and skill levels aims to encourage richer discussions. Clear expectations set in advance for the group tutorials, ensure students know what to expect and what to bring or be prepared for.

Opening/Closing: In each session, students are welcomed to the session and given a brief explanation to the benefits of group tutorials for their learning and place an emphasis that all voices and views matter to establish a ‘safe space’. Encouraging constructive criticism is balanced with support to ensure comfort.

Throughout: The aim is to set an example of the respectful engagement required, provide constructive feedback, and prompt students to assess each other’s work, identifying strengths, weaknesses, and areas for improvement.

Moving forwards:

Reflecting on these strategies, there are identified successes and areas for improvement.

While mixed student groups from diverse backgrounds present challenges, they also enrich group discussions by offering a variety of perspectives. This diversity contributes to a more dynamic and inclusive learning environment.

Setting clear expectations from the outset has helped alleviate initial anxieties, enabling students to engage more fully. When students have not completed assignments, they feel more comfortable disclosing this, fostering transparency.

Encouraging peer assessments has facilitated peer-to-peer learning and enhanced critical thinking. However, while most students embraced the mixed groups, some still struggled to work outside their comfort zones, occasionally resulting in tension. Additionally, some ice-breaker activities have felt forced, failing to encourage deeper connections.

To improve, there is room to refine ice-breaker activities, ensuring they are more task-relevant and meaningful.

Introducing prompt cards to guide discussions could also provide less confident students with a preparatory question to reflect on before speaking. This should reduce anxiety and encourage more thoughtful contributions.

Additionally, a stronger focus on balancing group dynamics to ensure a supportive environment could help address issues early to maintain a collaborative atmosphere.

This reflection will inform future teaching practice by prompting more flexibility with group formations, ensuring everyone feels supported. Continuing to refine activities will foster deeper engagement and learning.

The facilitator role in group tutorials should be to guide discussions and support students in exploring topics. Continue to ask open-ended questions and inviting diverse perspectives and encourage critical thinking will be beneficial here. Going forward, seeking feedback on the effectiveness of group tutorials from students, specifically on how confident they feel and how they feel a sense of community has developed will also be beneficial.

References 

Bogaard, A. (2005) ‘Small group teaching: perceptions and problems’, Politics.

Kitchen, M. (2012) “Facilitating small groups: how to encourage student learning.”

For me, there’s an indignity in realising I probably now qualify as an “experienced educator.” I have been teaching, in various forms, for over fifteen years. I can’t believe it! Initially this was alongside my industry practice, and now it’s my primary role, layered with leadership, management, and the aspirational “research time.” 

The PGCert has forced me to acknowledge this longevity, despite my resistance and personal complex towards ageing. 

My early teaching followed the learning experience of being thrown in the deep-end, making mistakes, almost drowning, reflecting, and adjusting. I quickly absorbed the formalities of Higher Education, then inevitably questioned them, and now sit somewhere between compliance and critique. Even in the chaos, I thought I believed I understood what effective teaching required but the PGCert has complicated that certainty.

Much of the theory we’re covering is not entirely new but I feel some comfort in knowing that the practices I have arrived at instinctively now have given names and frameworks to explore. However, engaging critically with pedagogy and institutional contexts, has unsettled me. The depth of analysis has amplified questions I previously held at bay.

The literature and much of what we discuss weekly reflects this unease. We all know there is a culture of overwork and stress in UK HE (Kinman and Wray, 2001), and there’s arguably increasingly toxic organisational conditions shaped by managerialism, financial pressure, and unrealistic policy demands (Erickson, Hanna and Walker, 2020). Institutional visions shift; ineffective leadership rotates; change proliferates, yet coherence, and real meaning and purpose often feel elusive. 

The result feels less like strategic evolution and more like managed instability.

The PGCert encourages us to situate our teaching within these broader structures. In doing so, it has intensified my questioning. If the sector is in crisis, and creative industries are similarly unstable, like so much of the world, what exactly are we preparing students for and what are we doing here? Are we fostering critical resilience, or just farming degrees? Is the PGCert itself enabling transformation of practice, or refining our capacity to operate within existing constraints and mediocrity?

Rather than cynicism, this feels closer to what I’ve discovered Barnett calls the “supercomplexity” (Barnett, 2000) of the modern university, where uncertainty is structural rather than incidental. My confusion may therefore be appropriate: a sign of critical engagement rather than incompetence.

Importantly, yes, the programme has helped me reflect on my practice, making me more intentional and attentive to inclusive teaching, and aware of feedback as dialogue rather than transmission (Nicol & Macfarlane-Dick, 2006). I feel I can now better articulate my pedagogic values, not just enact them. However, challenges remain, especially in balancing inclusivity with students who exhibit entitled attitudes toward learning and academics, expecting more from their academic experience than they invest, believing rules should be bent for them, and feeling they should not have to work as hard as others. Academic entitlement correlates with disengagement and incivility, making it difficult to set firm boundaries and deliver an inclusive programme.

Perhaps the purpose of the PGCert is not to resolve doubt but to legitimise it? To move from instinctive teaching to critically informed practice. If so, then my current state, questioning yet committed, may represent development. 

I guess I remain productively confused. 

In a supercomplex university, that may be the most intellectually honest position available, but it’s all still feels royally messed up!

References

Anderson, K.J., 2021. Power, privilege, and entitlement. In: Power, Privilege, and Entitlement. Oxford University Press. pp. 17–42. https://doi.org/10.1093/oso/9780197578438.003.0002

Barnett, R., 2000. Realising the University in an Age of Supercomplexity. Buckingham: Society for Research into Higher Education & Open University Press.

Erickson, M., Hanna, P. and Walker, C., 2020. ‘The UK higher education senior management survey: A stato-dynamic analysis of managerialism and its discontents’, Higher Education Quarterly, 74(1), pp. 5–22.

Kinman, G. and Wray, S., 2001. Work-related stress in UK academic staff. London: Association of University Teachers.

Nicol, D.J. and Macfarlane-Dick, D., 2006. ‘Formative assessment and self‐regulated learning: A model and seven principles of good feedback practice’, Studies in Higher Education, 31(2), pp. 199–218.

Knowing and meeting the needs of diverse learners 

mess = method = meaning

Background

Students increasingly fear risk-taking, seeing failure as a waste of time, money, and energy, which limits experimentation and affects their work and grades. Many come from an educational background that places a viewpoint that failure is often seen as detrimental in traditional education, yet failure is a critical part of the creative process (Brown/Cator, 2013).

In response, I’ve co-designed a fully digital project that centres iteration under the premise “mess = method = meaning.”

Using unfamiliar software free to use in college, the project levels the playing field, encouraging creative chaos. It normalises experimentation, reframes failure as part of the process, and reinforces that imperfect work is essential for achieving stronger, more refined outcomes.

Evaluation

The project aims to support diverse learners by fostering an inclusive and flexible environment, where students can experiment, fail, and learn iteratively.

By introducing unfamiliar tools and focusing on ‘glitching’ an archetypal garment, the project aims to ensure a level playing field, utilising free college computing facilities to eliminate typical costs associated with iterative learning through physical making.

Encouraging students to embrace the ‘messy’ nature of the process, the project challenges them to step outside their comfort zones and explore the software in pursuit of discovery and embracing a “growth mindset” to see failures as an opportunity for growth. (Dweck, 2006).

While the approach is still constructivist, allowing for personal breakthroughs, the briefing engages students with varying backgrounds and learning styles, but while some thrive in creative chaos, others may benefit from a more structured approach. This challenge highlights the need for tailored support, especially for students with lower technical skills or discomfort with open-ended learning. Supplementary academic and technical support has been added to address these needs.

Moving forwards

To better support students with unfamiliar tools, we plan to offer an AI workshop that demonstrates how design led AI platforms, like us, doesn’t always work perfectly. This aims to help students understand the adaptive nature of AI while providing insights into decision-making processes. Additional resources will be made available on Moodle to support self-paced learning.

Workshops will be designed with clear scaffolding to guide students through the iterative process, offering checkpoints and extra support for those who need it.

Encouraging continued peer mentorship aims to foster collaboration between students with different skill sets.

Future delivery of the project may require that we place greater emphasis on differentiated support to ensure all learners can engage fully with the “messing about” approach to learning, discovery, and refinement.

Feedback from students will guide adjustments to the project, aiming to make it more inclusive and accessible.

As digital technologies evolve, we’ll need to integrate a wider variety of tools and resources to accommodate varying levels of technical proficiency. This will hopefully ensure that students can progress at their own pace while gaining the confidence to experiment and grow in their learning, while adapting to the needs of the industry the course feeds and fostering greater experimentation and transgressive design outputs.

References

Brown, S., & Cator, K. (2013). The Role of Failure in Creative Education. Creativity Research Journal, 25(2), 123-132

Dweck, C. S. (2006). Mindset: The New Psychology of Success

Schön, D. A. (1987). Educating the Reflective Practitioner: Toward a New Design for Teaching and Learning in the Professions. Jossey-Bass.

Kafai, Y. B., & Resnick, M. (1996). Constructionism in Practice: Designing, Thinking, and Learning in a Digital World. Routledge.

Session/artefact to be observed/reviewed:

Digital assets: Brief / Briefing Lecture Slides / Lecture Nots.

Size of student group: 24 – 30

Reviewee: Kit Neale

Reviewer: Carys Kennedy

Note: This record is solely for exchanging developmental feedback between colleagues. Its reflective aspect informs PgCert and Fellowship assessment, but it is not an official evaluation of teaching and is not intended for other internal or legal applications such as probation or disciplinary action.

Part One
Reviewee to complete in brief and send to reviewer prior to the review

What is the context of this session/artefact within the curriculum?

I am the Pathway Leader for Fashion Design: Print in the CSM Fashion Print programme at CSM, where I’m responsible for delivering projects to second and final-year students.

Last year, I was informed that we would be losing a “cut and sew” project in the second-year curriculum due to space constraints. Previously, we had three such projects, but this was reduced to two. These “cut and sew” projects focus on developing 3D fashion outputs. In the context of the programme, these projects always involved experimental and developmental use of print, which is a key USP of the course. I was told I would need to replace the “cut and sew” project with a print-focused project. While this seemed like a good opportunity to boost students’ print development and application, it also posed challenges, as the course is designed to integrate print and fashion rather than separate them.

In response, I developed a project called “Fashioning Puppets.” The aim was to challenge students to rethink what fashion is, who it is for, and how it can be designed and communicated. The project encouraged creativity, risk-taking, and bold experimentation, asking students to explore puppetry—a global and ancient art form—as a contemporary tool for creative expression. The goal was for students to explore puppetry’s role in storytelling, education, and entertainment, while also understanding how it provides fashion designers with a unique lens through which to reflect on humanity, reimagine reality, and communicate new ideas.

The project was designed to investigate the cultural significance and imaginative potential of puppets, exploring how they can evoke dreams, tap into the subconscious, and serve as metaphors for human experience. Students were tasked with creating a puppet or a series of puppets and developing a presentation that told a story and conveyed their own perspective on fashion.

This project also aligned with UAL’s strategy for sustainability and social inclusion, and everything was set to go. However, the delivery of the project didn’t go as planned. The year group was understandably upset about losing the “cut and sew” project, and unfortunately, their frustration led to disengagement. They didn’t invest in the project or recognize its potential, resulting in poor outcomes and low engagement.

After reflecting on the project, I reworked the delivery for this year. Instead of a workshop format, I introduced a lecture to explain the project in more detail. The results have been much more positive, with improved engagement. However, there are still concerns, as the number of non-submissions, failures, and lower grades is worrying.

With this in mind, I’m seeking feedback on the brief and the briefing lecture. Is the project too ambitious for the students’ level? What worked well, and what could be improved? Should I continue with this concept, or would it be better to create a more conventional fashion print brief?

How long have you been working with this group and in what capacity?

I work with the second-year group for about 12 weeks before this project, and while I see them briefly in their first year, I don’t engage with them in depth until they reach the second year. As their Pathway Leader (essentially the de facto course leader) and lead tutor, I deliver projects and lead tutorials through second and final year.

Before the “Fashioning Puppets” project, students had completed a team project, which I have limited control over on the delivery. Unfortunately, this project is often unpopular with the students, and it also tends to have poor outcomes. Given this, many of them I think likely enter the “Fashioning Puppets” project with a negative mindset from their earlier experience. However, this year, there was much greater accountability from the students, and I saw some really positive results.

What are the intended or expected learning outcomes?

From an assessing pov, the Unit LOs are:

• LO1 Analyse and select appropriate research sources that will inform your design 
development. (AC Enquiry)
• LO2 Apply knowledge of appropriate colour and materials, their treatments and 
techniques, appropriate to your pathway. (AC Knowledge)
• LO3 Critically evaluate research and apply this creative design solutions in 
response to a brief, including evidence of an understanding of issues around 
sustainability and ethical practices related to your work. (AC Process)
• LO4 Apply knowledge of pattern-cutting skills and techniques, informing garment 
construction appropriate to your pathway. (AC Realisation)

What are the anticipated outputs (anything students will make/do)?

As on the brief, they have a choice as I try to give autonomy within reason.

Are there potential difficulties or specific areas of concern?

As I mentioned earlier, some students excel in the project, while others really struggle to grasp the concept and can’t shift their perspective. This raises the question: is the project too ambitious for their level of thinking?

While I believe in holding students accountable for their work, the academic structure doesn’t always support this, especially when students face difficulties. There’s often an expectation for me to adjust or improve the delivery to help raise their grades. I do, of course, but if a brief is just too alternative, is it just unrealistic?

On one hand, I think struggling is a natural part of growth, and a level of difficulty is essential in pushing students to expand their thinking. But on the other hand, I wonder if the project is too challenging for their current skill level, and whether I should reconsider the scope or approach entirely. Is it inclusive to have some students struggle so much, or does this approach leave too many behind?

I certainly support students who engage with the project and put in the effort, but if students aren’t bringing anything to the table, how can I continue to deliver such a demanding project? Would a more conventional fashion print brief lead to greater engagement, even if it doesn’t push their boundaries as much? While it may not challenge their perspectives in the same way, it could foster more widespread participation and a higher level of success. Equally, how does this help those who really excel with the project?

Ultimately, I’m grappling with whether I should adjust the project to better suit the student level or stick with it and accept that some will struggle, because that’s a part of the learning process.

How will students be informed of the observation/review?

N/A – the project reviews digital assets such as the brief, the slides, etc.

What would you particularly like feedback on?

As above.

How will feedback be exchanged?

Part Two

Reviewer to note down observations, suggestions and questions.

Thanks Kit for sharing the briefing information for Unit 6: Developing Creative Perspectives, alongside your thoughtful reflections about this in Part 1.My impression was that the following is the central question you’re facing for this unit:

On one hand, I think struggling is a natural part of growth, and a level of difficulty is essential in pushing students to expand their thinking. But on the other hand, I wonder if the project is too challenging for their current skill level, and whether I should reconsider the scope or approach entirely. Is it inclusive to have some students struggle so much, or does this approach leave too many behind?

These aren’t easy questions to answer, and I’m not sure I want to try! What I hope, instead, is that our discussion and the following notes give you an alternative perspective which might help you to explore these questions further yourself.

• I thought that literature about ‘pedagogies of ambiguity’ might be useful as you consider what is the right level of challenge for this project. I’ve signposted to Austerlitz et al (2008) and Orr and Shreeve (2018) as possible texts to read and reflect on.
  
  
• We talked about ‘differentiation’ and ‘optionality’ as key concepts/tools you may wish to explore – although differentiation in particular is a contested concept, and more typically used in pre-18 education settings.  
  
  
• I noticed that you had written “from an assessing POV, the Unit LOs are…” and I asked in response, what are the Unit LOs from a non-assessing point of view. This led us to discuss a concept called the Hidden Curriculum (see Portelli, 1993) and I’m curious what the ‘hidden curriculum’ might be in this unit.
  
  
• Relatedly, you articulated some of the things you hope to see in student work, which include application of theory, positionality, world-building and vision: who they are, and where they’re taking their work. You talked about the reputation CSM has for ‘pushing boundaries’ and the fact that not all students see to yet be at that level. I am interested in how this might relate to your own values in terms of higher education.

• We also spent some time talking about the ‘struggle’ that some students encounter on this unit. You explained that 6 of 28 students didn’t submit, and some of those that did achieved relatively low grades. This could be an indication that this unit is “[leaving] too many behind”. On the other hand, you acknowledged that the students who didn’t submit often had extenuating circumstances – and it’s unclear whether the non-submissions are due to the unit, or just coincidental. You also gave an example of a student who thrived in this unit, even though they had struggled in the previous one. What can you draw upon to examine whether the unit presents particular barriers, or if there’s another factor at play (e.g. timing of the unit)? I suggested Brookfield’s Four Lenses as a potential reflective tool to examine this.

• You noted that students seem to enter Year 2 without confidence in areas you feel should be coreknowledge (e.g. fashion concepts). I’d be interested in your reflections on the course design as a whole, and whether you have any influence into this. I also referred to the Spiral Curriculum (Bruner, 1960) and wondered if this might be a helpful model (see this resource from QMU).

I hope these notes are helpful, and give you an opportunity to reflect on the Fashioning Puppets project further. I have included some prompts (in bold) for you to reflect on. You don’t have to answer all the questions – just respond in Part 3 to what feels of interest following our discussion (up to 500 words).

Part Three

Reviewee to reflect on the reviewer’s comments and describe how they will act on the feedback exchanged. Reviewee should return this to the reviewer once complete.

It was good to discuss this project with Carys and reflect on the challenges emerging both in its delivery and across the course more broadly. Our conversation focused on whether students’ difficulties are primarily conceptual rooted in ambiguity, theoretical positioning, and critical framing, or structural, relating to timing, workload, and the brief itself.

This led to the deeper question of what level of struggle is ‘appropriate’, and how does this align with my values as an educator while remaining committed to inclusive practice?

A key point of our discussion was the notion of the hidden curriculum. Reading Exposing the Hidden Curriculum by John Portelli helped clarify my understanding of the tensions surrounding learning outcomes within an art school context. Art and design education often sits uneasily within institutional systems that prioritise clarity, measurability, and standardisation. I recognise that learning outcomes can offer transparency and accountability, yet I’d argue they also obscure the tacit values embedded within creative education and the industries we serve.

This can be examples by an email I recently shared from a contact in industry outlining what they look for in candidates. It reinforced many points I challenge students on, but is loaded and just one viewpoint. I’d argue we have to teach so much more than what can be simplified to a strict set of LOs.

Our approach is often that we introduce tools, processes, and ideas and ask students what they might do with them, rather than prescribing how they should be applied. This stance resists conformity and sustains an art school ethos that values experimentation, risk, play, and reflective depth. Whilst LOs suggest measurable endpoints, and a marking criteria, creative practice invites students to test, subvert, and even fail in pursuit of originality and rigour. I believe this contributes to creating graduates who are conceptually confident, critically independent and can make positive meaningful contributions to society.

However, I recognise that this approach inevitably contains elements of hidden curriculum. Expectations around risk-taking, conceptual boldness, and intellectual independence may not be fully explicit. Even though we speak of these values, do students genuinely understand what they mean in practice?

In The Immorality of the Hidden Curriculum (1982), David Gordon argues that unexamined norms shape students’ dispositions without their informed consent and may reproduce social inequalities. This is an important argument we can’t ignore. It raises important questions for us: Does “pushing boundaries” privilege those with particular cultural capital? Are students rewarded for confidence and theoretical fluency that has not been systematically scaffolded? Is “productive struggle” developmental for all, or only for some?

These reflections do not lead me to reject ambition or challenge. Rather, they compel me to interrogate the implicit values underpinning my teaching and what we do. I do not believe the answer is to eliminate hidden curricula entirely, but to render them more visible through critical reflection. If we value risk-taking and intellectual independence, these expectations must be articulated clearly, scaffolded equitably, and ethically justified. I already emphasise that meeting learning outcomes requires interpretation beyond a literal reading of assessment criteria, and I provide examples of how experimental approaches can lead to more sophisticated outcomes.

I, of course, remain deeply committed to inclusivity. I do not want students to fail or underperform; their success matters to me both professionally and personally. A failure to challenge students serves no-one and students need to be accountable for their own attendance and engagement, but it is our responsibility to ensure that challenge does not become exclusion. More tightly prescribed briefs might reduce ambiguity, and refining the optionality may offer alternative routes through complexity.

The task is to balance structural clarity with conceptual openness: to scaffold without constraining, and to challenge without marginalising. I am not certain this balance can ever be perfectly achieved, but this reflection has clarified the core tension and made it possible to address it more consciously.

References

Gordon, D. (1982) ‘The immorality of the hidden curriculum’.

Portelli, J. (2006) ‘Exposing the hidden curriculum’.

bell hooks’ Talking Art as the Spirit Moves Us (1995) challenged my thinking about how art by marginalised groups is framed. hooks addresses the 1993 Whitney Biennial, where works by Black artists were reduced to a narrative of “revolt.” She argues that this framing limits the aesthetic complexity and cultural significance of their art.

Her critique made me reflect on how often art by Black and other marginalised groups is viewed through a lens that diminishes its full meaning and context, especially in education.

I agree with hooks, but I also think there’s a paradox here. While mainstream interpretations of Black art are often narrow, it’s hard not to view these works—created in a world shaped by white-supremacist and patriarchal structures—as inherently political. Is it not almost impossible for Black artists, especially those working within predominantly white spaces, not to make a statement simply by existing and creating? In this sense, their work is revolutionary by default, not always by design.

I draw parallels to my experience as a queer individual. Similar to Black artists, queer creators often navigate a world that reduces their identities to an oppressive narrative. For example, much queer cinema is tragic, arguably because that’s how non-queer audiences expect it to be. There’s a trauma-porn gaze imposed on queer art, which could diminish its richness and diversity. Yet we also lean into it. Recently, though, the popularity of the gay rom-com Heated Vivalry—light, sexy, and largely free from trauma—demonstrates the demand for queer narratives that aren’t defined by pain.

Perhaps this parallel between Black art and queer art is more about the spaces these creatives occupy. Both communities often create art within structures that are hostile or dismissive of their experiences. At UAL, this dynamic becomes evident.

During our group discussions, I shared my frustration with the prevailing creative educational focus on individualism and nostalgia. So much of creative work today centers on the “self.” While this has value and a place, it often leads to restrictive narratives. As one colleague/peer pointed out in the chatroom, it’s as if creative academia is obsessed with the idea of the artist as a solitary genius, leaving little room for collaboration, collective thinking, or engaging with the world around them.

We also discussed how academic structures, rooted in efficiency, safety, and institutional frameworks, often stifle creative experimentation. The constraints of time, finances, established norms, learning outcomes, and assessment frameworks all limit creativity.

I believe art and design education should do more than just offering technical skills, but also actively encouraging students to think critically about the systems that shape both the creation and the reception of their work. In this sense, art education could serve as a site of transgression, a space where students not only learn to make art but also challenge the very structures that constrain their making, leading to broader narratives, ideas, and thinking.

But what is our role in education? If we want to empower students, we must challenge the structures that govern us—white-supremacist and patriarchal thinking, both in the classroom and beyond. Have not the policies and systems around us been created with this mindset? Only by addressing this can we create a more inclusive, expansive view of art and design, one that allows all voices to be heard, not just those deemed “revolutionary,” but those that are simply honest.

Reference

hooks, b. (1995) ‘Talking Art as the Spirit Moves Us’, in Art on My Mind: Visual Politics. New York: The New Press, pp. 115–120.

As I approached the micro-teaching session, I was apprehensive. The relentless work schedule left no time for a rehearsal. This intensified my views and feelings on the task itself.

I have long been sceptical of micro-teaching. How can anything be meaningfully condensed into 20 minutes?

To me, micro-teaching reflects a worrying “TikTok-fication” trend of education, where we’re encouraged to “do things differently” – effectively making our delivery faster and cheaper for universities, and more digestible for audiences who lack skills to focus, rather than helping develop these skills. It all risks making learning superficial without depth and reflection.

I did though question this cynicism before undertaking the task. I looked over the origins of microteaching, specifically the work of Dwight W. Allen, James M. Cooper, and Lorraine Poliakoff (1966). Although this was ironically done with some haste, it challenged my perspective and set out rationales for reframing the model as a method for refining skills through focused, manageable exercises. I recognised there was something appealing about isolating small elements of practice without the weight of an entire curriculum.

Yet, delivering to my fellow peers added another layer of complexity. Distilling a topic into a standalone 20-minute session, without the broader scaffolding, felt disorienting. I chose to present on vintage Halloween masks, an area of my own research, but quickly encountered an ongoing personal dilemma: how to balance depth with brevity. Without a practice run, I completely underestimated timing. What I had imagined as a rich discussion felt like a hurried delivery, and key points felt rushed.

Despite this, the participants seemed to engage enthusiastically. One described it as “an amazing and timely topic,” affirming that a sense of curiosity had been sparked. The session encouraged critical thinking, inviting participants to analyse objects through different cultural, historical and contextual lenses. Although my objectives may have been overly ambitious for the timeframe, the discussion that did emerge appeared somewhat thoughtful and generative.

I also, as I always do, fixated on the design of the slides. It’s a personal view that if we expect students to meet high standards of presentation, I must practice what I preach. I try to draw on Kristen M. Naegle’s (2012) 10-point guidance and Undrill and McMaster’s (2015) warnings against “the slide to damnation,” aiming for clarity, accessibility, and minimal text. Positive feedback on the “branding” and “aesthetic” was gratifying. And although there was no black text on white backgrounds, there was feedback that some text was too small or too dense. This is valid and highlights areas for improvement.

Overall, the feedback was both affirming and constructive. Participants praised the interactivity, pacing, and integration of pop culture, literature, and personal research. While I remain unconvinced that micro-teaching fully aligns with my pedagogical values, the experience proved a valuable exercise in reflection, focus, and growth.

References

Allen, D.W., Cooper, J.M. & Poliakoff, L., 1966. Microteaching (PREP-17). ERIC Clearinghouse on Teacher Education, Washington, DC.

Naegle, K.M., 2012. Ten simple rules for effective presentation slides. PLOS Computational Biology, 8(12), e1002764. Undrill, M. & McMaster, M., 2015. PowerPoint: Avoiding the Slide to Damnation. Cambridge University Press, 2020. Available at: https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/abs/clinical-topics-in-teaching-psychiatry/powerpoint-avoiding-the-slide-to-damnation/608AF7E867649CA4E422A4D5041D00B6

Returning to teaching after the winter break is a bit like opening the fridge after Christmas. You’re hopeful, you’re curious, and you’re fairly certain something inside has gone bad. Despite the rigmarole of working in Higher Education today, I arrive each January pessimistically excited.

That optimism rarely survives the first week. Students often return with little or no work, as if the holiday spirit included a firm ban on thinking. My disappointment quickly escalates into panic as I calculate the workload ahead for them, and then, because I am human, I think of how this will all somehow become my problem.

The university and the governing bodies above it increasingly appear blissfully unaware of what success actually requires: what must be taught, what must be learned, and how much pressure this places on students and staff within the very limited time we’re given to prepare them for industry. Their detachment is impressive.

Each year, I naïvely hope students will be motivated by a genuine interest in their chosen subject and engage independently over the break. While it’s tempting to label them lazy, I know the reality is messier. Social, cultural, and technological distractions crowd their attention, elbowing out independent learning, accountability, and sustained focus.

What truly surprises me, though, is that today’s students possess unprecedented resources, most notably AI tools, and yet hesitate to use them creatively. Many believe AI is “cheating,” a perception shared by some colleagues who clutch their sketchbooks and pencils like emotional support animals and refuse to accept digital realities. This is despite research showing generative AI can enhance creativity rather than replace it, and that prompt literacy, learning how to articulate design thinking effectively to AI, is rapidly becoming an essential industry skill (Lee & Suh, 2024).

Over the past year, I’ve experimented with AI myself, poking at it cautiously. As Khairulanwar and Jamaludin argue, AI is not a threat but a tool that can enhance both art and education, particularly for students who struggle with traditional drawing skills, by helping them externalise ideas and iterate faster (Khairulanwar & Jamaludin, 2025). Other institutions are already exploring this terrain. As one of the world’s leading art schools and fashion programmes, we arguably have a responsibility not to hide under the desk but to speculate, challenge, disrupt and mangle its capabilities to achieve new ground.

AI has limitations: it can’t do the actual work for you so we shouldn’t fear it, though the environmental and ethical implications are real. Still, hybrid approaches, combining digital and physical practices, are increasingly central to contemporary fashion design. Used thoughtfully, AI can support experimentation, problem-solving, collaboration, and iteration.

As I look ahead on the PGCert programme, I wonder whether integrating AI more intentionally into teaching might help students produce braver, more ambitious work. My goal isn’t to replace traditional skills, but to expand creative horizons, so students can survive, and maybe even thrive, in an evolving fashion industry that shows no intention of slowing down for anyone.

References

Cooke, D., Edwards, A., Barkoff, S. & Kelly, K., 2025. As Good as a Coin Toss: Human Detection of AI-Generated Content. Communications of the ACM, 68(10).

Jung, D. & Suh, S., 2024. Enhancing soft skills through generative AI in sustainable fashion textile design education. Sustainability, 16(16), p.6973.

Khairulanwar, A.B.M. & Jamaludin, K.A., 2025. Artificial Intelligence in Fashion Design Education: A Phenomenological Exploration of Certificate-Level Learning. International Journal of Academic Research in Business and Social Sciences, 15(3), pp.313–331.

Lee, J. & Suh, S., 2024. AI Technology Integrated Education Model for Empowering Fashion Design Ideation. Sustainability, 16(17), p.7262.

The Covid-19 pandemic forced me to something I had never done before: teach online.

For someone who considers themselves a fairly tech-savvy millennial, it was clunky, awkward, and more than a little humbling. If anything, it felt like a crash course in realising that “digital literacy” doesn’t necessarily mean “digital fluency.” I struggled through a steep learning curve, as did my students, and the entire experience left me feeling gleefully grateful that I’m back mostly teaching in person again.

When I decided to sign up to the PGCert online, I did so for practical reasons, like fitting it around my ridiculously time-demanding fractional post. But I also found myself increasingly concerned about student access to learning.

I had noticed a troubling trend: fewer students were attending in person due to economical pressures. One student explained it to me as a cost-benefit analysis: fewer trips to campus meant saving money on travel, lunch, etc. It was, for them, survival. So, they’d pick the days they thought mattered most, leaving other sessions behind. Sadly, this isn’t survival, it’s sabotage. Missing college doesn’t exactly bode well for a course that requires hands-on work with use of equipment, facilities, and the in person teaching on campus.

The student’s suggestion stuck with me: whilst I wished they’d just sacrifice their image, hop on a bike and cycle to college rain or shine, they won’t. Nor will any political movement secure free travel for students anytime soon. So can I shift some in-person activities online to make learning more accessible? Could I see something in the online format that I’d been missing? With a growing number of students coming from lower socio-economic backgrounds, I wanted to better understand how digital learning spaces could open doors.

In an attempt to gain a better perspective, I read the article Home Sweet Home: Achieving Belonging and Engagement in Online Learning Spaces by Ross and Leewis (2022) that was on the reading list. They argued that online spaces can foster a sense of belonging through tools like Miro, where connection, co-creation, and shared ownership help students feel emotionally and socially engaged. But when I first participated in the PGCert, it felt like the most forced version of “engagement” imaginable. There we were, diligently responding with emoji reactions, trying to create some semblance of connection, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of being in an awkward Teams meeting where everyone’s pretending to have a good time.

It led me to wonder: is this what my students experience? Am I trying to support some by creating an accessible space and, in turn, inadvertently making things worse for others? Perhaps it’s the fragmented nature of the platforms (Moodle, Microsoft Teams, Miro, and various blogs) caused the disconnect. The technical glitches alone were enough to send anyone into an existential crisis. I left each session feeling less like a learner and more like someone trying to piece together a puzzle with missing parts.

So here I am, questioning whether online learning truly enhances accessibility or just shifts the barriers to a different place. It’s clear I need to embrace a hybrid model, leveraging digital tools where they make sense, but without losing the tactile richness of in-person engagement. But that’s a puzzle I’m still working on.

References

Ross, S. L. and Leewis, L. (2022) Home sweet home: achieving belonging and engagement in online learning spaces. Spark: UAL Creative Teaching and Learning Journal, 5(1), pp. 71–81.

This is my PGCert blog.