Simply Sara

A space for me to write freely, reflect, share my experiences, and connect with others to join the conversation.

recent posts

  • Where Is the Learning in Online Learning?

    Photo by Vlada Karpovich on Pexels.com

    When COVID hit, Australian universities moved online almost overnight. We filmed, uploaded, templated and told ourselves we were “keeping learning going.” In a crisis, that was true. But five years on, I keep asking a simple question we’ve quietly pushed to the side: where is the learning in all this online learning?

    I say this as a learning designer and as a learner myself. I’ve sat with academics and built the long LMS pages, the weekly playlists, the discussion boards, the 90-minute recordings that explain exactly what the textbook already covers. I’ve also watched students skim, skip and switch off. What we built was access and efficiency. What we lost was presence and purpose.

    We’ve confused content with teaching

    When Google first came along, people said teachers would shift into the role of facilitators. With Web 2.0, content became easy to find, and our task was to guide students through it. Now AI has taken us a step further. It doesn’t just find content; it writes it. Slides, summaries, quiz banks, “learning pathways”, produced in seconds. And in too many places we’ve responded by producing even more: more text on the page, more recordings, more auto-generated everything. All beautifully formatted. All strangely hollow.

    If YouTube, podcasts and open texts already explain the baseline concepts (often better than time-poor academics can under pressure), why are we re-recording the textbook? Why not ask students to read or watch the best resources we can find, and then spend our precious contact time on the thing they cannot Google: application, critique, debate, design, practice.

    ‘But students don’t do the reading‘

    This is the most common defence for long lecture recordings and content-heavy pages. Let’s be honest: they won’t watch a 90-minute recording that repeats the reading either. We’ve seen the analytics. Students cherry-pick, speed-up, or give up. The problem isn’t student laziness; it’s a design that hides the point of learning. When the reward in a subject is “consumed content” rather than “used knowledge,” students behave accordingly.

    The cost is not just to students. Think about the academic time sunk into filming and editing two hours of talking-head video, time that could have gone into crafting a real-world brief, a feedback rubric that actually teaches, or a live clinic that challenges thinking. Every hour spent remaking content that already exists is an hour stolen from presence.

    Teaching presence isn’t a contact card

    We often say “teaching presence” and then treat it like a profile photo, a welcome note and an email address. That is not presence. Presence is when students can feel the educator in the course: asking the next question, reframing a misconception, modelling how a professional thinks, giving feedback that bites a little and builds a lot. Presence is dialogue, not decoration. Without it, an online subject becomes a tidy repository of resources with no teacher in sight.

    The chatbot is now inside the classroom

    There’s a new twist we need to talk about. The AI tutor is no longer an external app — it’s inside the LMS. Platforms like Canvas are rolling out native chatbot-tutors and “LLM-enabled assignments.” Students can chat to the bot about the week’s topic; those interactions can be captured as “learning evidence,” surfaced in analytics and even aligned to the Gradebook. On paper, that’s efficient. In practice, it risks moving the centre of gravity away from the educator and towards the dashboard.

    I’m not anti-AI. I use these tools. But we need to be very clear about their role. If the main conversation in a subject is student ↔ bot, and our job is to read the analytics, we’ve replaced presence with telemetry. AI should free educators to be more present, not give institutions a reason to be less.

    What students actually pay for

    Students don’t pay for a better textbook or a longer video. They pay for expertise in action: sharp feedback on real work; judgement in messy, “it depends” cases; the courage an educator gives them to take a position and defend it; the confidence of doing something that matters beyond the LMS. That is what turns knowledge into capability. That is what a machine cannot convincingly simulate.

    So let’s design around that. Tell students: here are the best explainers; come ready. Then use live time for work, building, debating, presenting, testing, revising. Shift assessment towards authentic tasks where AI can be a tool, not a cheat code: oral defences, design critiques, negotiated briefs, client-style deliverables, reflective re-writes that show growth. Make feedback fast, specific and human. Make your voice present in the forums. Ask for evidence of thinking, not just products of typing.

    If universities don’t change, someone else will

    This isn’t only a design problem; it’s a relevance problem. Students are comparing our subjects with a world full of short, job-linked credentials built with industry and delivered at speed. Coursera, edX, Google certificates, LinkedIn Learning, the competition is not the university down the road; it’s the rest of the internet. If we spend our energy recreating content that already exists, we will lose on the dimensions our competitors dominate: speed and relevance.

    I don’t say this lightly: if we keep treating learning as content delivery, now supercharged by AI, I’m not sure universities, at least in their current form, will hold students’ attention for the next decade. Big companies will offer direct pathways into work. Students will follow the value.

    Australia needs to choose what universities are for

    We do not need another round of “more resources.” We need a national reset on what learning at university is for. The direction is hiding in plain sight: co-design curricula with industry, expand work-integrated learning beyond placements into live briefs and clinics, and measure capability,  not page views. Every subject should have a real partner somewhere in the process: shaping problems, reviewing work, or co-assessing outcomes.

    We also need a clear, higher-education approach to AI that protects academic judgement and amplifies teaching presence. Use AI to draft options, not answers. Support and reward teachers for the moments of real connection that change how students think and what they remember years later, not just for how much material gets uploaded to the LMS.

    Record less. Apply more.

    If I could write one design rule on every subject outline, it would be this: record less; apply more. Stop remaking what already exists. Curate it. Then use our limited time and budget to create the experiences only we can create: The argument that makes a student stop and think, the case that unsettles them in a productive way, the feedback that turns a draft into a professional piece that is where the learning lives.

    Online learning can absolutely be transformative. It has reach and flexibility we should celebrate. But unless we put the human work of teaching back at the centre, expertise, presence, challenge, care, we will keep producing beautiful courses that leave students strangely untouched. And they will go looking elsewhere for the thing we were meant to give them.

    Regards,

    Sara Abdelmawgoud

  • Why Immigrant Parents Struggle with the Australian Education System and What the Government Can Do

    Recently, I was chatting with a group of friends from the Middle East about the Australian school system. As someone who has worked in education both in the Middle East and here in Australia, and as a parent, I shared something that surprised them: I believe the education system in Australia is better. Not because it’s easier, but because it focuses on developing soft skills and employability skills that truly matter in today’s world.

    My friends didn’t all agree. Some strongly defended our home countries’ education systems, saying they’re more disciplined, more academic, more focused. And I understand where they’re coming from. But I also see what happens when families arrive here and try to make sense of a completely different way of learning.

    A Culture Shock for Parents

    When families move to Australia from countries like Egypt, India or China, they don’t just bring their luggage, they bring a whole different mindset about education.

    Too often, the Australian government, education system, and even schools themselves treat all immigrants as if they come from the same cultural background, as if they are already familiar with Western values and educational philosophy. But for many of us, this couldn’t be further from the truth.

    Different Foundations, Different Expectations

    In many Asian and Middle Eastern countries, education is non-negotiable. It is not just a right, it is an obligation, often seen as the only path to a secure future. A student’s success is measured by how much information they retain and the marks they achieve. High scores are a must, and schoolwork extends into long hours of study after school, often including private tutoring, with weekends being the only time to relax, after all the homework is done.

    The relationship between students and teachers is formal and hierarchical. Teachers are respected, not challenged. Students listen quietly, take notes, and ask questions only when appropriate and always politely. There’s very little room for class discussion, debate, or personal reflection.

    Now compare this with the Australian education system.

    A Culture Shock in the Classroom

    In Australia, education is more focused on soft skills like collaboration, creativity, communication, and critical thinking. The teacher is seen as a facilitator, not an authority figure. Students are encouraged to speak up, question ideas, and even argue their point of view.

    There’s also far less pressure to achieve perfect grades. Many students leave school after Year 10 or take vocational education and training pathways like diplomas or apprenticeships. Going to university is a choice not an expectation.

    For immigrant parents and students, this contrast can be overwhelming. Many ask:

    “Where are the textbooks?”
    “Why is the classroom so relaxed?”
    “Why are there so few tests?”
    “What exactly is the teacher doing?”

    Confused and concerned, some parents respond by enrolling their children in private schools that offer stricter discipline and more traditional teaching. Others invest heavily in private tutoring. Some even choose to homeschool their children, believing the Australian system is too “soft.” Those who keep their children in mainstream schools may continue to complain that “education here is not serious enough.”

    The Children Caught in Between

    Then there are the children who adapt more easily. They begin to understand the Australian system and even appreciate its flexibility. But at home, they face pressure to meet their parents’ expectations, expectations shaped by another system entirely.

    They’re told they must get A’s and B’s, must aim for university, must succeed in the way their parents define success. These mixed messages can lead to anxiety, burnout, or conflict within the family.

    What Can Be Done?

    Australian government can introduce a nationwide orientation program for newly arrived parents.

    Right now, support for migrant families is patchy and depends on where you live. Some states provide translated materials. Some schools with high numbers of migrant students try to hold information sessions. Some settlement services briefly touch on schooling. But there’s no consistent, government-led initiative across the country that explains how the Australian education system works, especially not in a way that prepares parents for the cultural shift.

    This creates unnecessary confusion and frustration. Many parents are left guessing, comparing the system to what they know from home, and feeling that the school is too relaxed or unclear.

    A national orientation program would change that. These sessions could include:

    • The philosophy behind the Australian education system
    • How soft skills are now considered more important than memorisation
    • The role of the teacher and the classroom culture
    • The role of parents in the school community
    • How to support your child without conflicting with the school’s approach
    • The research that supports this approach

    Such sessions would not only ease the transition for families but also prevent misunderstandings, reduce complaints, and help both students and parents adjust with less stress.

    A Global Example of Success

    Canada, as an example, has a well-regarded initiative called Settlement Workers in Schools (SWIS). This is a government-funded program that places specialized settlement staff in schools to help newcomer families adjust. SWIS workers provide newly arrived students and their parents with orientation to the Canadian education system, acting as a bridge between immigrant families and schools. They might run information workshops for parents on how Canadian schools operate and what is expected of students and parents. They also connect families with community resources and help teachers understand the cultural needs of their new students. The program is nationwide and has been refined over years, indicating its positive impact.

    What Happens If We Do Nothing?

    If we ignore this gap, we risk having generations of students who are caught between two worlds, neither fully fitting into the Australian system nor satisfying their parents’ expectations. This can affect not only educational outcomes but also emotional wellbeing, family relationships, and long-term integration.

    Final Thoughts

    This issue isn’t about one culture being better than the other. It’s about understanding the differences and helping people adjust to a new reality. With the right support, immigrant families can appreciate the strengths of the Australian system while preserving the values they hold dear. But without it, we’re setting them up for confusion, conflict and frustration.

    Regards,

    -Sara A

  • Designing Courses with Player Types in Mind

    As educators and learning designers, we often speak about tailoring learning experiences, but what if we took inspiration from game designers and thought in terms of player types? Game designers have long classified players based on their motivations and behaviours, helping them build experiences that engage, challenge, and retain a wide range of users. This same thinking has exciting implications for education.

    Photo by Yan Krukau on Pexels.com

    What Are Player Types?

    ‘Player type’ is a classification system used to understand what drives player behaviour. According to Bartle (1996), players fall into four general types:

    • Achievers – motivated by measurable progress and success,
    • Explorers – driven by discovery and curiosity,
    • Socialisers – thrive on relationships and interaction,
    • Killers – competitive and disruptive by nature.

    Bartle described player types as being about “what the player finds fun” (Bartle, 2018). The decisions players make in a game often reflect these underlying motivations.

    Later, Yee (2006, 2016) introduced a more evidence-based approach, grouping player motivations into three clusters:

    • Action-social,
    • Mastery-achievement, and
    • Immersion-creativity.

    Importantly, Yee found strong links between player motivations and the Big Five personality traits, suggesting that player types reflect deeper aspects of personality and decision-making.

    However, it’s crucial to note that we’re not saying learners can be reduced to just one type. Each learner holds a mix of all player types, just in different proportions. What matters is not boxing learners into rigid categories, but using these insights to design options that speak to a range of preferences and strengths.

    Gamified Environments: New Models for Education

    When it comes to applying these ideas in educational settings, the Hexad model by Tondello et al. (2016) is especially useful. Unlike earlier models designed for video games, the Hexad was developed specifically for gamification and has been widely tested. It includes:

    1. Philanthropists – motivated by helping others and contributing,
    2. Free Spirits – value autonomy, creativity and exploration,
    3. Socialisers – engage through communication and teamwork,
    4. Achievers – like structured tasks with clear goals,
    5. Players – respond to external rewards,
    6. Disruptors – motivated by innovation, change, or even breaking systems.

    Some learners might have strong tendencies toward one or two types, while others are more balanced across several. That’s why it’s essential to offer diverse ways of participating and engaging, not one-size-fits-all solutions.

    Why This Matters for Course Design

    This isn’t about full-blown personalisation or building complex adaptive platforms. It’s about a mindset shift. By acknowledging different motivational types in our course design, we can:

    • Provide varied activities that appeal to different learners,
    • Create space for autonomy, structure, collaboration and innovation,
    • Design learning experiences that are engaging, inclusive, and intentional,
    • Encourage interactions among different learner types to promote reflection and diverse perspectives.

    Now Let’s Try It: Using Player Types to Design a Reflective Practice Lesson

    So far, we’ve looked at how different player-type models, like Bartle’s and the Hexad, help us understand what motivates different learners. But how can this actually shape our lesson design?

    Let’s put this into practice.

    In this example, we’ll design a reflective practice lesson where students are introduced to several reflective models (such as Gibbs, Kolb, Rolfe, and Schön). Students will be asked to engage with the content first, through readings, videos or interactive resources, and then choose an activity that aligns with their motivational style.

    The goal? All students reach the same learning outcomes, but they get to approach the task in a way that feels meaningful and motivating to them.

    We’ll build the activity with player types in mind, making sure there’s something for the:

    • Philanthropist (wants to help others)
    • Free Spirit (wants choice and creativity)
    • Socialiser (wants collaboration)
    • Achiever (wants mastery and challenge)
    • Player (wants recognition or rewards)

    Let’s look at how that might work in a real classroom or online module.

    The Activity: Reflect and Extend
    Goal: Apply a reflective model to a real or hypothetical learning experience.

    Step 1: Choose Your Reflective Task (Supports Philanthropists & Free Spirits)

    Choose one of the following two options:

    Optina A – Creative Reflection (Free Spirit)
    Reflect on a past learning experience (such as a group project, placement, or presentation) using a reflective model of your choice. You can present your reflection in any creative format you prefer, such as:

    • Mind map
    • Audio diary
    • Illustrated comic
    • Storyboard
    • Infographic

    Be sure to:

    • Mention which reflective model you used (e.g. Kolb, Rolfe, etc.)
    • Cover the main steps of that model in your own way

    Option B – Peer Support Guide (Philanthropist)
    Choose one reflective model and create a short guide to help another student use it. Your guide could include:

    • A simple step-by-step breakdown of the model
    • Prompt questions or checklists
    • A short example from your own experience

    You can present your guide as a one-page PDF, Canva graphic, short video or poster.

    Step 2 (Optional): Share and Connect (Supports Socialisers)

    If you’d like to take it further:

    • Share your creative reflection or guide with a classmate using the Padlet below
    • Ask for feedback, or offer feedback to someone else

    Step 3 (Optional Challenge): Go Further (Supports Achievers)

    Want to stretch yourself? You can complete both options (creative + guide), and then write a short reflection (200–300 words) answering:

    ‘Which reflective model worked better for which purpose, and why?‘

    This is a great way to compare tools and show your critical thinking skills.

    Earn Your Reflection Badge! (Supports Players)

    • Complete Step 1: You’ll receive the Reflection Explorer badge
    • Complete Steps 1, 2 & 3: You’ll earn the Advanced Reflector badge

    Badges will be shared on the LMS and can be added to your learning portfolio.

    This approach makes one core task accessible and engaging for multiple learner types.

    A Note on Motivation: Same Action, Different Purpose

    One of the most powerful insights from player type is this: students might do the same activity, but for very different reasons. For example, a student might complete a reflective guide:

    • Because they want to help others (Philanthropist)
    • Because they want to challenge themselves and do it well (Achiever)
    • Because they’re trying to earn a badge (Player)
    • Because they see it as a chance to connect with a peer (Socialiser)
    • Because they want to express it creatively and on their own terms (Free Spirit)

    The action is the same, but the underlying motivation varies. By recognising these motivational differences, we can design learning experiences that feel relevant and meaningful to more students, without having to create separate tasks for each one.

    Final Thought: A Useful Lens, But Not the Whole Picture

    Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

    These ideas are shared as a way to spark thinking, not to box anyone in. While there’s solid research behind models like the Hexad, and they can be really helpful for designing engaging learning experiences, it’s important to remember that no model can fully capture the complexity of real learners.

    We’re all motivated by different things at different times. So it’s best to use these types as a guide, not a rulebook, a way to design with more empathy and flexibility, not to label or limit anyone.

    As always, use this kind of framework thoughtfully, with curiosity and care.

    Regards

    – Sara A

  • Not Just Looking Back: How to Prepare for Powerful Reflection

    Have you ever been asked to reflect on an experience, maybe after a class, a placement, a workshop, or even a difficult conversation?

    Teachers, educators, supervisors and even parents often ask students, peers or siblings to reflect, expecting deep insight and personal growth.

    But here’s the surprising part: we all understand ‘reflection’ differently.

    Some people think it’s just describing what happened. Others see it as analysing their decisions. And many feel unsure where to even begin.

    That’s why I want to start with a simple question: What is reflection?

    What is reflection?

    At its core, reflection is a process of looking back on your experiences to learn from them. It helps you notice what worked, what didn’t, and how you might approach things differently in the future.

    Some scholars, like Donald Schön, suggest that reflection doesn’t always have to happen after something is over. We can reflect in action, thinking and adjusting while things are still happening. But this isn’t always easy, especially when things feel rushed or emotional. That’s why many of us find it more helpful to reflect after the experience, when we have time to slow down and make sense of it.

    Reflective writing

    One of the most popular ways to express reflection is through reflective writing. Here’s one definition I find helpful:

    Reflective writing can be seen as a kind of ‘cognitive housekeeping.’ It helps you explore, organise, and sort out your thoughts, feelings, knowledge, opinions, experiences, and other people’s perspectives in your head and then represent them on paper. This can result in new learning and new ideas.

    There are many models to support reflection, like Gibbs Reflective Cycle, Johns’ Model of Structured Reflection, Kolb’s Experiential Learning Cycle, Rolfe’s ‘What? So What? Now What?’, Atkins and Murphy’s Model and more. Each offers steps or prompts to help guide the process.

    But this blog isn’t about choosing the ‘best’ model. It’s about something that comes before all of that.

    Prepare yourself for reflection

    Before you start reflecting or writing about your experience, you need to prepare yourself to reflect. Think of it like warming up before a workout or taking a breath before a tough conversation. Reflection doesn’t happen automatically, it takes intention, space and practice.

    When you look at the most commonly used reflective models, you’ll notice they all focus on similar elements. Whether you’re a student, a teacher, or someone simply trying to grow, these seven key elements can guide your thinking and writing:

    1. Description of the event – What happened? Where? Who was involved?
    2. Internal dialogue – What were you thinking and feeling at the time?
    3. Connection to prior experience – Have you faced something like this before?
    4. Alternative viewpoints – How might others have seen the situation?
    5. Emotions – What emotions did you feel during or after the experience?
    6. Links to theory or literature – Can you relate it to anything you’ve read or studied?
    7. Revisiting the experience – What have you learned? What would you do differently?

    These elements help turn any experience, whether positive, challenging or unclear, into an opportunity for learning.

    My personal checklist for meaningful reflection

    Before reflecting on an experience, try to pause and ask yourself: Am I truly ready to reflect, or am I just recalling events?

    When you think back to a past or recent experience, big or small, you may find it helpful to use these seven key elements to guide your reflection:

    1. Description of the event: What happened? Where was I? Who else was involved?

    • What are the key facts I need to recall to give context, without overexplaining or getting lost in detail?
    • What made this situation stand out to me?

    2. Internal dialogue: What was going through my mind at the time? What thoughts, questions, or uncertainties did I notice?

    • What was I thinking and feeling in the moment? Did anything surprise, confuse, or challenge me?
    • Was I confident, hesitant, curious, or unsure?
    • Did I notice any assumptions or inner biases influencing my thinking at the time?

    3. Connection to prior experience: Have I encountered something like this before?

    • What lessons from the past came into play here?
    • How is this similar or different to previous experiences I’ve had?

    4. Alternative viewpoints: How might someone else have seen this situation?

    • If I step into someone else’s shoes, how might they have interpreted or responded to this?
    • What might my colleague or supervisor think about how I handled it? Would they agree with my perspective or challenge it?
    • What perspectives or voices might be missing from how I’m viewing this experience?

    5. Emotions: What emotions did I feel during and after the experience?

    • Why did I feel the way I did? What triggered those emotions?
    • How did those feelings influence my actions or shape the way I understood the situation?
    • Did my emotions help or hinder my response? Would I feel the same way if it happened again?

    6. Links to theory or literature: Is there something I’ve learned or read that connects with this experience?

    • What academic or professional ideas help me understand this better or challenge how I saw it?
    • Is there a story, quote, cultural teaching, or life lesson I’ve come across that relates to this?
    • Have I heard someone else talk about a similar situation that shaped the way I now think about this?

    7. Revisiting the experience: What do I take away from this? What would I do differently next time, and why?

    • How has this experience changed the way I think, act or feel?

    One last thought

    Remember, reflection is not a linear process. I often find myself moving back and forth between these elements revisiting ideas, shifting perspectives, and noticing things I missed the first time. And over time, I’ve started to develop my own way of reflecting, something that feels natural and meaningful to me.

    These questions help me explore my experience from multiple angles, not just what happened, but why it mattered and how it shaped who I’m becoming.

    This short talk by Adam Geller is a great reminder of why self-reflection matters and how preparing for it can lead to genuine growth, not just surface-level insight:

    And now, here’s my question for you:

    When was the last time you truly paused to reflect, not just on what happened, but on how the experience changed you?

    Regards

    -Sara A

  • Rethinking Gamification in Education: It’s Not About the Tools

    When I started my PhD, I was fascinated by the potential of gamification. Like many people in education, I thought gamification meant bringing in points, badges, levels, and other game elements into the learning experience.

    But over time, my understanding shifted.

    Now, if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this:

    Gamification isn’t about using the same tools as a game designer, it’s about thinking like a game designer.

    This is a big distinction, and one I believe we often miss in the education field. We see games as something we can copy: add a leaderboard here, throw in some badges there, and expect motivation to follow. But that’s not how games really work, and that’s not how learners really engage.

    Game designers don’t just add flashy rewards. They make thoughtful decisions based on why people play, how they stay engaged, and what makes an experience meaningful or fun. Their approach is deeply tied to psychology, behavioural patterns and user experience design.

    One simple example is how game designers use player type theory. A common classification divides players into types like achievers, explorers, socialisers, and killers, not to personalise the game, but to understand what drives different kinds of players. Then, they design tools and experiences that appeal to each type’s motivation.

    For example, socialisers might be motivated by connection, so a game might offer chat functions, team-based missions, or leaderboards that help them feel part of a community. Achievers might want points or badges to measure progress. Explorers are drawn to discovery, so they’re given hidden content or expansive environments. The point is: the designer isn’t changing the whole game for each player, they’re offering different access points that speak to different motivations.

    What we’ve done in education, though, is take the concept of “player types” and turn it into a personalisation algorithm, rather than a design mindset. We’ve missed the heart of the idea, that it’s not about tailoring content, but about designing meaningful experiences that resonate with different kinds of learners.

    What we’ve done in education is this:
    We borrowed the idea of player types, then turned it into a personalisation tool, and in the process, we missed the core philosophy behind it.

    Gamification isn’t about gimmicks or surface-level motivation. It’s about designing experiences that tap into curiosity, autonomy, challenge and meaning. That means thinking deeply about what engagement really is, and how we can build it, not just bolt it on.

    Is Gamification a Pedagogy?

    And this leads to a second question I often reflect on: Is gamification a pedagogy?

    From my perspective, the answer is no.

    I don’t see gamification as a pedagogy in itself. Rather, I see it as a design approach, a structured way of thinking that helps us organise and visualise the learning experience from a designer’s point of view. In other words, it gives us a practical framework for planning learning, not a philosophy of learning in and of itself.

    In fact, most of the core elements of gamification already exist in education, just under different names. Things like:

    • Clear goals and instructions
    • Levels of difficulty or progression
    • Feedback loops
    • Social interaction
    • Reflection and challenge and more

    These are not new to education. But what gamification offers is a different lens for applying them, a more interactive, engaging, and learner-driven way of structuring those same elements.

    Take the concept of challenge, for example.

    We know from educational psychology that challenge is important, students need tasks that stretch their abilities just beyond their comfort zone. But what happens when a student can’t solve a problem? In traditional education, they might get a red X, or be told to try again later.

    In games, it’s different. If a player struggles, the game doesn’t just say “wrong”, it offers a hint. Maybe two. Sometimes three. The game is designed to support persistence and keep the player in flow, not to punish failure.

    This kind of layered feedback, gradual support, and encouragement to try again, that’s what gamification helps us design for in education.

    It doesn’t replace pedagogy, but it does offer a practical toolkit for making learning more engaging, adaptive, and human-centred.

    Bridging Theory and Practice

    So, to create a strong piece of learning design, you need to start with a solid pedagogical foundation, a clear understanding of how people learn, what the goals are, and what kind of change you hope to support.

    Gamification doesn’t replace pedagogy, it helps bring it to life.

    In other words, gamification is a practical layer. It offers tools and design strategies that help you translate theory into engaging practice. Whether your pedagogy is constructivist, experiential, or inquiry-based, gamification can support it by providing ways to scaffold challenge, support feedback, encourage persistence and create meaningful interaction.

    That’s how I see it now:

    Gamification narrows the gap between theory and practice.

    It helps designers and educators move from abstract ideas to concrete experiences, ones that feel dynamic, responsive and relevant to learners.

    But to use it well, we need to go deeper than badges and points. We need to think like designers, not just about what learners need to know, but how we want them to feel as they move through the learning experience. Curious? Motivated? Connected? Capable?

    Gamification gives us the tools to design for those feelings, but only when it’s grounded in good pedagogy.

    These are just my thoughts, drawn from my own experiences as a researcher and education designer. I’m still learning and always open to hearing other perspectives.

    – Sara

  • Welcome

    Hi, I’m Sara, an activist, researcher, designer, educator, mother and someone who’s still learning every day.

    This space is a quiet place for me to pause, reflect, and share what I’ve experienced and what I’m still trying to understand. I’ve worked across communities, education and advocacy, and a lot of my writing comes from those moments of connection, challenge, growth and hope.

    I write here freely, sometimes about learning and design, sometimes about justice and identity, sometimes about research. I don’t have all the answers, but I’ve seen how sharing stories and experiences can bring people closer, even across deep differences.

    So if you’re here, welcome. I hope you’ll find something that resonates and maybe even feel like joining the conversation.

    – Sara