Decolonising Classroom UX: From Mandated Learning to Co-Creation
After writing about classrooms as user experiences in my previous article and delving into the ideas shaping my upcoming book, Decolonising Language Education, I’ve found myself increasingly grappling with the disconnection between what education often is and what it ought to be. If classrooms are truly to be spaces of intention—where every detail of design centres the needs of students—then how can we continue to rely on mandated curricula that alienate learners by prioritising systemic goals over individual relevance? This tension is something I see frequently, especially in subjects like maths, where pre-set pacing and lessons dominate the classroom, leaving little room to connect with the students themselves. Students who don’t see how exponents or logarithms will ever matter in their chosen paths are left feeling disengaged, and the rigidity of these structures means we don’t often discover their frustrations until they’re already checked out, disconnected, or off task.
This disconnection is more than a matter of poor engagement; it’s a reflection of the deeper, colonial dynamics that permeate our educational system. The current approach to curriculum imposes predetermined goals, outcomes, and pacing, all decided by curriculum publishers and school systems, not the learners and families these systems claim to serve. It positions teachers as facilitators of a fixed agenda rather than collaborators in a dynamic and relevant learning process. After exploring this idea further, I’ve come to see how this mirrors colonial practices: it disregards the voices, lived experiences, and priorities of the very people it impacts most, in favour of preserving top-down control. To truly design with intention—and equity—we must shift away from this model.
This shift, I believe, begins with co-creation. By reimagining curriculum planning as a collaborative process involving students and their families, we can transform classrooms into spaces that centre relevance and meaning. Frameworks like Understanding by Design (UbD) offer tools to guide this transformation, providing structure while leaving space for responsiveness and dialogue. It’s a change that asks us to rethink not only what we teach but how we define success—and most importantly, who gets to decide.
The Colonial Nature of Mandated Curricula
The current structure of mandated curricula in education is deeply rooted in a top-down approach that mirrors colonial dynamics. These systems decide for students and families what must be learned, offering little to no opportunity for their voices or priorities to shape the process. Even the phrasing of instructional goals, like the ubiquitous “Students Will Be Able To” (SWBAT), is pre-baked into purchased curricula, such as Illustrative Math (my school’s curriculum), dictating not only what students will do but often how they will do it. But what happens when students want to learn something different, something more relevant to their own lives and futures? The curriculum doesn’t bend to meet them—it expects them to conform. And when they can’t see the relevance or feel the connection, they disengage.
Take Algebra II as an example. Concepts like exponents, logarithms, and polynomials are often presented without meaningful context, leaving students outside STEM-oriented pathways wondering why they should care. For newer teachers, it can be particularly challenging to connect these abstract ideas to the practical goals of students who have already chosen their next steps, whether those are career-oriented or college-bound. By the time students reach this point in their schooling, they’ve largely formed their own ideas about what they’ll need for their futures. If they’re not planning to become engineers or scientists, they may feel little motivation to invest in the material.
But what if the curriculum allowed for meaningful connections to students’ lives? For example, understanding polynomials can help a caterer calculate ingredient scaling for different serving sizes or predict costs when adjusting recipes for large events. Polynomials allow for the modelling of relationships between variables, such as the number of servings and the quantities of ingredients required. If a recipe is originally designed to serve ten people, the caterer can use polynomial expressions to scale the quantities proportionally for larger groups, ensuring consistency in taste and presentation. Additionally, polynomials can be used to predict costs by factoring in variables like ingredient price fluctuations or bulk discounts. For instance, the total cost of a recipe might depend not only on the number of servings but also on thresholds for wholesale pricing, which can be modelled using polynomial equations. By leveraging this understanding, a caterer can more accurately plan budgets, reduce waste, and optimise pricing for events of any size. This practical application demonstrates how mathematical concepts underpin real-world problem-solving in fields like catering.
Similarly, grasping the concept of functions can be essential for someone interested in modifying or tuning cars because it allows them to interpret and adjust complex relationships within engine performance. For instance, a function represents how different inputs, such as throttle position, air intake, or fuel injection rates, impact outputs like horsepower, torque, or fuel efficiency. Understanding functions helps a tuner calculate the optimal fuel-to-air ratio needed for peak performance under various conditions, whether maximising speed or improving fuel economy. By mapping and analysing these relationships, they can fine-tune the engine's control systems, ensuring the car operates efficiently and effectively for its intended purpose. Functions also play a critical role in adjusting electronic systems, such as calibrating the engine control unit (ECU) to optimise performance based on the driver's preferences and the car's design. This ability to visualise and manipulate input-output relationships is foundational to success in this field.
These aren’t hypothetical applications; they’re real-world examples inspired by my responses to students’ questions about how the material connects to their career aspirations. These are smart, curious students who want to understand how the concepts they’re being taught will benefit them—a reflection of the classic “what’s in it for me” mindset, which is entirely reasonable and deserving of an answer. Yet, the curriculum offers little variety or depth to explore these connections. There are no windows or mirrors within the scripted lessons or pacing guides—nothing that reflects my students’ lived experiences or allows them to see themselves and their goals represented in the material. For many, the curriculum feels disconnected from their realities, reinforcing the idea that what they’re learning has no relevance to the lives they envision for themselves
When students fail to see this relevance, they check out—literally and figuratively. Off-task behaviour, disengagement, and lack of investment aren’t problems that arise from student laziness; they’re symptoms of a system designed to prioritise compliance over connection. By insisting that all students follow the same rigid path, we fail to meet them where they are, reinforcing inequities in the process. Those already marginalised by systemic barriers are further alienated, as the system demands their participation while giving nothing in return to validate their experiences, goals, or identities. If education is to be a liberatory act, as Freire envisioned, then we must reject this colonial structure and reimagine the classroom as a space where relevance, dialogue, and shared purpose take precedence over imposed mandates.
The Disconnect in Upper Level High School Maths
In upper-level high school maths classrooms, the rigidity of pre-packaged curricula, such as Kendal Hunt’s Illustrative Math, often leaves little room for meaningful teacher or student input. Curriculum providers structure lessons and pacing with the expectation that teachers will deliver content as prescribed (one lesson per day for a 60 minute class, two for a 90 minute class, etc.), offering limited flexibility to adapt lessons to their specific students. For overworked teachers managing large classroom rosters, there’s often no time to rework or customise lessons to reflect the unique aspirations or backgrounds of their students. As a result, students are excluded from the learning process, left to navigate material that feels disconnected from their lives and futures.
This rigidity becomes particularly apparent in a typical Algebra II classroom. Many students, especially those on career-bound tracks, struggle to see how concepts like logarithms will ever apply to their chosen paths. For example, students aspiring to careers in healthcare—such as radiology technicians or nurses—often question the relevance of logs to their future work. Teachers, lacking the breadth of real-world experience or time to develop tailored examples, may struggle to bridge this gap.
Yet, there are real connections that could help these students see the value of what they’re learning. For instance, a radiology technician relies on logarithms to understand how radiation intensity decreases with distance, a principle governed by the inverse square law. This law states that the intensity of radiation is inversely proportional to the square of the distance from the source. Using logarithms, technicians can calculate safe exposure levels by determining how much radiation will reach a patient or a particular area as the distance from the radiation source changes. These calculations are critical for setting the appropriate imaging parameters and ensuring that both patients and staff are not exposed to excessive radiation. Additionally, logarithms help technicians calibrate imaging equipment, as they’re used in interpreting attenuation data—how much radiation is absorbed by different tissues during a scan. This precise application of logarithms ensures that imaging is both effective for diagnostic purposes and safe for everyone involved.
Elsewhere in medicine, nurses frequently encounter logarithms when interpreting medical data, such as pH levels in various body fluids, which are measured on a logarithmic scale. For example, the pH of stomach acid is typically between 1.5 and 3.5, indicating a highly acidic environment crucial for breaking down food and killing harmful pathogens. Understanding the logarithmic nature of pH is vital for assessing how small changes in acidity can have significant effects. For instance, when certain foods, like vegetables, temporarily raise stomach pH closer to neutral, this can reduce the stomach’s ability to kill bacteria effectively, increasing the risk of foodborne illnesses (this is why lettuce and onions are freqently the source of bacterial problems like e.coli). Nurses use this knowledge to educate patients about dietary choices, particularly for those with compromised digestive systems or conditions like GERD (gastroesophageal reflux disease).
Furthermore, logarithms help nurses understand and manage the effects of medications or interventions that alter pH levels in the body, such as antacids or intravenous fluids. By recognising how a slight shift in pH on the logarithmic scale represents a tenfold change in hydrogen ion concentration, nurses can make informed decisions about treatment plans and patient care. These real-world applications of logarithms not only make the concept tangible but also highlight its relevance to careers in healthcare. Unfortunately, such connections are rarely integrated into the scripted curriculum, leaving students to perceive advanced maths as abstract and irrelevant, rather than as a valuable tool for their future aspirations.
This disconnect is compounded by the system’s reactive approach to identifying and addressing student needs. Teachers are often left in a position of “waiting and seeing” which students disengage, rather than proactively fostering connection and relevance. By the time disengagement becomes apparent—whether through off-task behaviour, poor performance, or outright frustration—the opportunity to address the root causes and build meaningful connections to the material has often been lost. Without space for students to shape their learning or see themselves reflected in the curriculum, the system perpetuates a cycle of alienation, where students feel the material is being imposed on them without relevance to their lives or aspirations.
This reactive model makes it almost impossible to get things right for students because it excludes them from the planning process. When teachers present students with a rigid curriculum that says, “Here’s what you must learn,” there’s no room for the critical dialogue that can connect abstract concepts to their personal goals. Instead, a more collaborative approach would see teachers presenting the skeleton of the course—broad units and topics—and inviting students to engage as co-creators in their learning journey. For example, a student might respond to a unit on imaginary numbers by asking, “Why do I need this? I’m going to be a CNC operator in my uncle’s shop.” This question isn’t an obstacle; it’s an opportunity to build a conversation about how seemingly abstract concepts can relate to real-world applications.
In this case, the teacher could explain how imaginary numbers are foundational to complex mathematical models used in engineering and manufacturing, such as those that power the algorithms in CNC programming. For example, imaginary numbers are critical in representing and analysing waveforms, such as those generated by vibrations or oscillations in cutting tools, allowing for precise adjustments in machining processes. This understanding enables operators to optimise performance, troubleshoot issues, and adapt to custom or advanced designs that require a deeper level of mathematical insight.
Through this dialogue, the student not only begins to see the relevance of the concept but also gains an appreciation for how mastering the underlying principles can elevate their career trajectory. Workers who understand the “why” behind the tools and systems they use, rather than simply knowing which buttons to press, can approach their craft with greater creativity and problem-solving ability. This deeper knowledge empowers them to innovate, troubleshoot effectively, and grow beyond the basic functions of their role, ultimately increasing their value and versatility in the workplace (or create additional surplus value for employers to confiscate, but I digress).
By engaging in this process of co-creation, the classroom moves from a space of passive compliance to one of active collaboration, where learning is tied to real-world aspirations. Students feel their goals are valued and supported, and teachers gain a deeper understanding of their students’ interests and ambitions. This shared approach to learning not only makes the content more engaging but also prepares students to excel in their chosen paths with confidence and skill.
The Power of Co-Creation
Co-creating units, pacing, and goals with students and families represents a transformative step toward dismantling the colonial dynamics of imposed curricula. Traditionally, curricula are handed down as non-negotiable frameworks, designed without input from the very people they aim to serve. This top-down approach leaves little room for students to see themselves or their futures reflected in the material, reinforcing a system of compliance rather than collaboration. Co-creation, on the other hand, invites students and their families into the process, giving them a voice in shaping what and how they learn. It doesn’t mean abandoning rigour or watering down content; instead, it aligns rigour with relevance, fostering ownership and engagement.
Take Algebra II, for example. Rather than starting the year by diving headfirst into the content, a co-creative approach can begin with an easing-in period where teachers and students collaboratively establish goals and priorities. The teacher presents a skeleton plan—a broad outline of the concepts that must be covered, such as exponents, logarithms, and polynomials. These are the topics “mandated” by the Common Core State Standards (CCSS) as essential for success at this grade level and after completing the course. However, the skeleton serves as a flexible framework rather than a rigid script.
During the first week, the teacher invites students to connect these concepts to their own lives and career interests. One effective strategy is to display each learning target on a large piece of posterboard and give students post-it notes to add suggestions, questions, or ideas for real-life applications. For instance, a student interested in architecture might ask how exponents relate to structural design, whilst another pursuing a career in healthcare might suggest exploring logarithms through medical data like pH levels. This simple yet powerful activity generates dialogue, reveals students’ perspectives, and demonstrates that their voices are valued in the classroom.
Armed with this input, the teacher can adjust the pacing of the course to focus more deeply on the concepts that resonate most with the students whilst still meeting the required outcomes. If students express strong interest in or confusion around certain topics, the teacher can allocate additional time to explore those areas. Conversely, if a particular concept is less relevant to the class’s shared goals, it can be streamlined whilst maintaining fidelity to the curriculum's essential goals. By keeping an eye on the desired results—an approach grounded in the principles of Understanding by Design—teachers ensure that rigour and flexibility coexist.
This co-creative process not only makes the curriculum more engaging but also shifts the power dynamic in the classroom. Students become active participants in their education rather than passive recipients, fostering a sense of agency and connection. As the year progresses, this foundation of trust and collaboration enables deeper learning and prepares students to see the value in their work, not just as a compliance exercise, but as a pathway to their own aspirations.
Incorporating UbD Principles
Incorporating Understanding by Design principles into a decolonial, co-creative approach offers a powerful framework for aligning curriculum standards with student-driven learning. UbD’s three stages—identifying goals, determining evidence, and planning learning experiences—are inherently flexible and can be adapted to centre students’ voices and experiences. By integrating these principles into a collaborative classroom dynamic, teachers can ensure that learning is both rigorous and deeply relevant to students’ lives.
The first stage of UbD, identifying goals, provides the opportunity to integrate both curriculum standards and student-driven questions. The required goals, such as mastering key Algebra II concepts like exponents, polynomials, and complex numbers form the foundation. However, these goals can be enriched by inviting students to co-create essential questions that connect the material to their personal interests and aspirations. For example, instead of pre-determined questions like “How do logarithms function in mathematics?” students might develop questions such as “How can logarithms help us understand and predict trends in social media data?” or “How do exponents apply to construction design?” These questions not only deepen engagement but also validate the students’ perspectives and demonstrate the practical relevance of abstract concepts.
The second stage, determining evidence, shifts the focus from traditional assessments to performance tasks that are meaningful and personalised. Performance tasks can be designed collaboratively with students to reflect their interests and career goals. For instance, a student interested in financial literacy could work on a project using exponential functions to model compound interest, exploring how savings can grow over time. A student drawn to gaming might examine how logarithmic functions are used in game development, such as modelling difficulty scaling or audio effects. Someone pursuing a career in construction could explore the role of quadratic equations in calculating areas, structural loads, or even roofing angles. These tasks provide opportunities for students to apply their knowledge in authentic, relevant contexts, demonstrating their understanding in ways that connect directly to their goals.
The third stage, planning learning experiences, is where co-creation truly shines. By using the skeleton of the course as a starting point, teachers can work with students to shape the pacing and focus of each unit. For example, if several students express interest in financial literacy, more time might be allocated to exploring exponential growth in depth. Conversely, if a concept like polynomials generates less interest, the teacher might streamline the unit while ensuring mastery of the essentials. This flexibility allows the curriculum to adapt to the needs and interests of the class, creating a dynamic and responsive learning environment.
When UbD is used as a foundation for co-creation, it transforms the classroom into a space of shared ownership and purpose. Goals and outcomes remain rigorous, but they are no longer imposed; instead, they are collaboratively developed to reflect both institutional expectations and the unique aspirations of students. This approach not only deepens engagement but also fosters a sense of agency, showing students that their voices and experiences are integral to their education. By aligning intentional design with co-creation, we move closer to decolonising the classroom, making it a space where all students can see themselves and their futures reflected in their learning.
Challenges and Solutions
Whilst co-creation holds great promise for transforming classrooms into inclusive and engaging spaces, it is not without its challenges. Teachers often face significant barriers that make implementing such an approach feel daunting. Standardised testing, rigid pacing guides, and administrative expectations all create pressure to prioritise compliance over connection. Many educators worry that deviating from pre-packaged curricula or adjusting the pace of instruction to accommodate student input will leave their students unprepared for rigid assessments like the SBAC, SAT, or ACT. These external constraints can lead to hesitation, as teachers may struggle to see how co-creation fits within the confines of institutional demands.
Additionally, the pervasive expectation to “hit the ground running” with instruction on day one further limits opportunities for relationship-building and collaboration. Teachers are frequently given pre-set pacing guides that dictate when specific concepts must be taught, leaving little room for the kind of easing-in period that would allow time to co-create goals, build trust, and explore students’ aspirations. This pressure to immediately focus on content delivery can reinforce the disconnect between the curriculum and the students it aims to serve, perpetuating disengagement and alienation.
To address these challenges, we must rethink how the school year begins and how curricula are implemented. One solution is to advocate for an easing-in period at the start of the school year. Rather than diving straight into instruction, this time would be dedicated to building relationships, understanding students’ needs and goals, and co-creating the learning journey. For example, teachers could use this time to introduce a skeleton of the course—outlining the required concepts and skills—and invite students to contribute ideas about how these topics might connect to their interests and aspirations. This process not only fosters buy-in but also gives teachers valuable insight into their students, helping them tailor instruction in meaningful ways.
Another practical solution is to adapt pre-packaged curricula like Illustrative Math to make space for student-driven extensions and examples. Whilst the core structure of the curriculum may remain intact to meet institutional requirements, teachers can weave in opportunities for students to explore personalised applications of the material. For instance, students could be invited to propose real-world problems related to a concept or develop projects that reflect their career interests. This approach allows the curriculum to remain rigorous while becoming more responsive and engaging.
By addressing these barriers head-on and creating room for collaboration and flexibility, we can begin to shift the classroom dynamic from one of compliance to one of co-creation. This not only benefits students by making their learning more relevant and empowering but also helps teachers see the transformative potential of a more collaborative and intentional approach.
Final thoughts …
The time has come for educators to rethink their roles in the classroom—not simply as facilitators of mandated curricula, but as co-creators of meaningful and relevant learning experiences. This shift requires moving beyond the traditional frameworks that prioritise compliance over connection and embracing a new approach that centres students and their families in the educational process. By building trust, co-creating goals, and designing with equity at the forefront, teachers can transform their classrooms into spaces where all learners feel seen, valued, and empowered.
This is not an easy task, nor is it a quick fix. It asks teachers to critically examine the systems they work within, challenge the colonial dynamics embedded in pre-packaged curricula, and take intentional steps toward inclusivity and collaboration. However, the rewards of this shift are profound. When students see their voices reflected in the classroom and their aspirations woven into the curriculum, they engage not only with the material but with the process of learning itself. Co-creation fosters ownership, relevance, and a sense of agency that traditional models often fail to deliver.
On a broader scale, this work is part of a larger movement to decolonise education. It is a push to dismantle systems that impose top-down control and ignore the lived realities of students and families. Instead, it advocates for classrooms that are dynamic, responsive, and inclusive—where students are partners in their own learning, not passive recipients of predetermined knowledge. This approach does not abandon rigour; it redefines it by aligning high standards with meaningful, student-driven inquiry.
When teachers, students, and families collaborate to make learning relevant and inclusive, incredible things become possible. Classrooms become places of empowerment, where learners develop not only the skills they need for success but also the confidence to pursue their dreams. This is the promise of co-creation: a model of education that honours the diverse strengths and perspectives of all its participants. It is an approach rooted in equity, designed for growth, and built on the belief that education should liberate, not constrain. Together, we can create learning environments that truly reflect the world we want to build—spaces where every student has the opportunity to thrive.
… I’ll continue this thought in tomorrow’s article….