Measuring what Matters for Human-Centered School Environments

Building performance metrics emphasize energy use, system capacity, compliance with design and safety standards. Yet the human experience of the built environment is driven by factors beyond these specifications—lighting, thermal environment, air quality, ambient noise, aesthetic and functional design all drive (or disrupt) occupant satisfaction. And, in fact, occupant satisfaction data tell a troubling story about how we—as humans, as workers, as learners—feel when we occupy the buildings within which we live, work, and attend school.

According to research conducted by Stefano Schiavon, the Associate Director for Research at UC Berkeley’s Center for the Built Environment, only 40% of a non-residential building’s occupants will report acceptable comfort levels; another 40% will report noticeable discomfort. This, Schiavon notes, means that a substantial portion of occupants in any building experience a persistent mismatch between their basic needs and the environment within which they work or learn.

Schools sit at the center of this question. Indoor environmental quality does not simply shape comfort; it shapes cognition, engagement, and long-term developmental outcomes. Humans, Schiavon emphasizes, function as “an indoor species,” and the environments they occupy “affect our mood, our ability to focus, and our ability to learn.” The structural mismatch between how institutions design buildings and how humans actually experience them can have serious consequences for teacher effectiveness and student learning outcomes. 

This problem is as complex as human biology itself. Physiological differences, expectations, and sensitivities produce competing needs within shared spaces. Uniform standards flatten this complexity rather than resolve it. “There is not one temperature that is perfect for everybody,” Schiavon explains; the same holds for lighting, acoustics, and air quality. For example, some occupants react strongly to fragrance or allergens, while others barely notice them. Some individuals find bright lighting so harsh as to create a distraction; others can barely make out text on a page if the lights are too dim.

Consider the issue of thermal comfort. Teachers typically control environmental settings, yet students often require different conditions than the adults with whom they share space. Schiavon notes that children frequently require cooler environments than adults, meaning adult-centered comfort settings can quietly undermine student focus and learning. Yet the female-heavy teacher workforce often requires ambient higher temperatures to work comfortably. Add to these considerations a district’s commitment to energy efficiency, which represents a third competing priority on where to set the thermostat, and it quickly becomes clear how complex something as seemingly straightforward as a temperature setting can be.

The maintenance of indoor environmental quality starts with baseline definitions for keeping students and teachers healthy and safe. In a post-covid era, schools and districts have a far greater understanding of the risks occupants face from airborne infectious aerosols that most often remain invisible. However, Schiavon stresses that people may not perceive carbon monoxide, radon, or pathogens even when exposure risks rise.

Measurement therefore becomes indispensable. Affordable sensors that track carbon dioxide, humidity, temperature, and particulates allow schools to surface hidden problems and act before those problems escalate. These strategies work in concert with the operation of a school building’s core infrastructure. Functional HVAC systems anchor safe and effective indoor environments. Especially when outdoor conditions demand filtration, cooling, or humidity control before air reaches classrooms, “a system that is working optimally” is necessary for daily operations, Schiavon explains. These systems protect learning environments—and the humans within them—every day,  not merely in acute emergencies such as pandemics or wildfires.

Sensor data and operational data from core systems also help districts sharpen priorities and distribute maintenance and operations funding according to needs. Instead of investing in the same systems in each building, districts can target interventions to particular buildings with conditions that most limit performance. The initial investment required by districts to set up such systems may feel prohibitive, but Schiavon argues that such systematic monitoring must be high-priority because, as he states, “we cannot protect what we don’t see or we don’t measure.”

Yet health and safety standards represent necessary, not sufficient, conditions for learning to occur inside school buildings. Humans need more than breathable air to learn and thrive. The interplay of sanitation, comfort, and individual needs and preferences drive the complexity that confounds many a school maintenance office when it comes to creating classroom environments that nurture student success.

The Center for the Built Environment proposes human-centered design as the solution to this challenge. The first best step toward universal comfort, Schiavon explains, is simply to “ask people what they want. For thermal comfort, for acoustics, for lighting—people are very good at understanding” what they need from their environments. 

When occupants of a classroom report discomfort, Schiavon argues, institutions must prioritize flexibility over compliance. Rather than chase a universal setting, Schiavon and his colleagues at the Center for the Built Environment seek ways to expand occupant control. The first step in this process: asking them about their experiences within their classrooms. Schiavon describes satisfaction surveys as “probably the most powerful” low-cost intervention because they reveal which environmental barriers most directly disrupt teaching and learning.

Schiavon highlights practical strategies that allow individuals to adjust conditions without large energy costs. Schools can allow flexible uniform policies or clothing norms so that both students and teachers can dress in layers. Localized cooling and heating—such as desk fans and under-desk footwarmers—allow individuals to customize for comfort at their desk space. And operable windows can freshen a room and help maintain temperatures that accommodate a range of preferences—cooler room temperature near an open window, warmer temperatures elsewhere in the classroom.

If maintaining occupant satisfaction seems so straightforward, why do so many school facilities fail to meet the needs of their occupants? According to Schiavon, districts rarely lack the knowledge or the will to confront such problems. Rather, their common challenge lies in the dearth of funding for systems upgrades and maintenance. When underfunded systems degrade, risks compound—from disease transmission to reduced cognitive performance.

The COVID-19 pandemic forced these dynamics into public view. Schools adopted portable air cleaners and other targeted tools that improve conditions where students spend the most time. Schiavon treats these solutions as a broader redefinition of infrastructure: effective environments combine building-wide systems with movable interventions that respond to real use patterns rather than idealized design assumptions.

Yet even with this progress, major scientific and practical gaps persist. Schiavon calls for rigorous quantification of how environmental conditions influence airborne disease transmission in schools and for stronger evidence on the effectiveness of ventilation, filtration, and ultraviolet technologies. He also highlights a critical blind spot: researchers rarely examine how multiple environmental stressors interact, despite the reality that under-resourced schools often experience heat, noise, poor lighting, and inadequate ventilation simultaneously.

These research gaps mirror investment patterns. Commercial buildings adopt advanced environmental strategies because performance translates into market value, while schools rarely receive comparable investment. This imbalance produces both lower environmental quality and weaker student learning.

How, then, to move the work of nurturing environments forward? Schiavon returns repeatedly to a deceptively simple directive: ask occupants. Teachers and students understand how environmental conditions shape daily learning, and their insight can guide both immediate action and long-term strategy. 

Together, occupant feedback and environmental measurement create a powerful decision framework. When institutions pair that knowledge with measurement, maintenance, and targeted investment, they can move beyond basic health and safety standards and support truly nurturing environments for teachers and students. The result is not merely more comfortable buildings but environments that actively enable learning, protect health, and improve educational outcomes.