Architecture is a field defined by perspective. While the foundational concepts may remain the same, the way individuals choose to engage with the discipline varies greatly. I recently had a conversation with a student who completed her Bachelor of Science in Architecture and is currently pursuing her Master of Architecture. Her views stood in sharp contrast to mine, yet the conversation became an important moment of reflection.

This paper is not a direct transcript. It is a reframing of what was said, what was felt, and what was learned. It documents a shift in understanding, one that occurred through listening, questioning, and stepping outside of my own assumptions.

Questioning the System

My frustration began with the structure of architectural education. General education classes, language requirements, and courses that seemed unrelated to the built environment felt disconnected from my goals. I was seeking clarity. I wanted to learn how architecture actually works — how design systems come together, how buildings are constructed, and how materials are applied in context.

Instead, the academic path appeared convoluted. I asked what many students often wonder but do not always voice: Why are we required to study things that do not seem to directly apply? Why does a program aimed at forming architects include so much outside of architecture?

A Different Approach

Her response was immediate and firm. She had completed her undergraduate studies through an honors college, where she had intentionally selected courses in ecology, sustainability, and history. For her, those were not distractions. They were the foundation.

She explained that architecture must be understood as a social, ethical, and environmental practice. It is not purely technical or aesthetic. It is a discipline that requires an understanding of people, systems, and histories. General education, in her view, was not arbitrary. It was a tool that enabled her to expand the way she thinks and deepens the lens through which she practices.

That contrast shifted my perspective. What I had seen as unrelated coursework, she had used to inform a more grounded and community-centered view of design.

Purpose Over Aesthetic

What stood out most was her strong stance on the role of architecture. She did not believe in architecture as a form of self-expression or aesthetic achievement alone. For her, architecture is a responsibility. It is meant to serve communities, particularly those who have historically been excluded from access to architectural services. She described the current culture around architecture as overly focused on appearance and competition, and not enough on empathy, equity, and long-term impact.

Design, she argued, is not just about how something looks. It is about how it works, how it feels to the people who occupy it, and how well it responds to the specific needs of a community. Beauty has a place, but only when it is rooted in context and care.

Tension and Recognition

I responded by emphasizing the value of aesthetics. I believe that how something looks does influence how it makes people feel. Form has the power to inspire, to ground, and to uplift. I had always seen the visual and material qualities of architecture as part of the architect’s responsibility.

She did not disagree. Instead, she reframed the idea. Visual experience matters, but it is only one part of the equation. Programming, functionality, and cultural relevance are just as important. A successful building, she explained, is one that has been studied, discussed, and shaped around the people it is meant to serve. Without that process, even the most beautiful design can fail to connect.

This broader definition of responsibility was something I had not fully considered. It expanded my understanding of what it means to design well.

Redefining Relevance

Throughout the conversation, I expressed my uncertainty around the current structure of architectural education. I questioned whether general studies were the most efficient use of time, and whether they truly equipped students with the skills needed to enter the field. She acknowledged those concerns, but emphasized that the deeper lessons often come from the areas we are most resistant to.

She reminded me that technical knowledge is important, but it is not sufficient. What we build, and how we choose to build it, is shaped by many variables: cultural, political, historical, financial. To ignore those factors is to practice architecture in isolation. And in a profession centered around human experience, that isolation can be detrimental.

Conclusion

This conversation did not provide a clear answer. But it did offer something else, a wider lens. Architecture is not one thing. It is a convergence of many disciplines, many perspectives, and many responsibilities.

For those of us still forming our approach, the discomfort of dialogue is necessary. It forces us to examine our values and ask deeper questions. What do we want architecture to be? Who is it for? And what kind of architect are we becoming through the paths we choose?

I am still learning. Still questioning. But this conversation reminded me that architecture is not only about the buildings we design. It is also about the frameworks we construct within ourselves: the values, intentions, and awareness we bring into the field.

Because ultimately, we may be in the same field, but how we choose to see it defines everything.