One of the ongoing challenges in teaching drafting and design classes is navigating the wide range of talent and skill levels that students bring into the room. Assessment is an essential part of the teaching process, but it becomes complicated when a rubric alone doesn’t fully capture growth; especially when a student’s baseline skill level is significantly lower than their peers’.
In many ways, drafting and design are similar to subjects like English or math: there are rules, standards, and technical expectations. In drafting, for example, we rely on established conventions such as USITT standards for line types, scale, and layout. We can evaluate whether students are using tools correctly, drafting to scale, or properly building a model or Vectorworks file. Those elements are measurable and relatively straightforward to assess.
Creativity, however, does not follow a strict rulebook.
This raises an important question: how do we teach and grade creativity or design thinking when it doesn’t come naturally to every student? We know that people think differently and possess vastly different skill sets. To use myself as an example, I am strong in mechanical drafting and technical design, but if you put me in a ballet class, I would struggle immensely. Even with years of practice, ballet may never become a strength for me in the way drafting is. That doesn’t mean effort wouldn’t matter, it just means the outcome would look different.
This same reality exists in the design classroom.
As an instructor teaching drafting, scenic design, and lighting design, I use rubrics to ensure fairness and transparency. Every student deserves an honest assessment of their work. But when a student’s overall skill set is simply weaker, grading them directly against peers doesn’t feel equitable. Instead, I start by looking at their first submission and track their progress over time. Improvement becomes the key metric.
If a student demonstrates growth while using proper drafting standards, applying correct tools, meeting project requirements, and showing clearer understanding by the end of the semester, then they have achieved success, even if their creative output is not as strong as the student sitting next to them. Creativity levels will always vary. What matters, especially at the introductory level, is development.
This approach does come with challenges. Some students are far behind at the start. Some struggle with fundamentals like reading a scale ruler, which means their designs are consistently off-scale. These students require additional time, support, and one-on-one instruction. But that extra effort is part of the responsibility of teaching design effectively.
All of this leads to a larger question in theatre education: is it essential that every theatre student take all areas of design classes, or should they simply take a design class?
In our program, theatre education students are required to take coursework across all areas, acting, directing, and design, because they will eventually be teaching these subjects themselves. Design and technical students begin with an introductory round that includes scenic, costume, lighting, and sound design before specializing in upper-level courses. Acting and directing students are required to take scenic and costume design, while musical theatre students choose one design area from costume, scenic, or lighting. Across the board, all students take makeup.
The underlying goal is shared vocabulary and shared understanding.
Using myself again as an example: I am not a costume designer, seamstress, or costume builder. While I have designed costumes before, only once during my undergraduate education, it is not my area of expertise, nor is it something I pursued professionally. That said, I understand the language of costume design. I know the vocabulary. When I direct a show, I can have an informed, meaningful conversation with a costume designer about concept, silhouette, and storytelling.
That shared dialogue matters.
Sometimes I wonder if, in our push toward specialization, we risk losing a holistic understanding of theatre at the undergraduate level. Theatre is collaborative by nature, and collaboration requires a common language. Even if you never become a lighting designer, understanding what a lighting designer does, and how they think, makes you a stronger collaborator.
In my own classes, I make it clear to students that they are not being graded against one another. They are being graded on their individual growth. Creativity is not the primary grading metric until they reach an advanced level, when they are designing a full mainstage production as a senior-level designer. At that point, creativity does matter, because the expectations have changed.
What I value most are smaller classes and opportunities for one-on-one instruction, where students can clearly understand their goals and recognize their strengths and limitations. This level of mentorship is especially important for scenic and technical design majors, who need focused development. It may not be as necessary for a musical theatre student whose career path lies elsewhere, but even for them, understanding the process has value.
At the end of the day, teaching design isn’t about ranking creativity. It’s about fostering growth, building shared language, and helping students become better collaborators, regardless of where their natural talents lie.
Prudence Jones
Director of Theatre, Department of Performing Arts
Professor of Theatre Arts
Technical Director for Theatre Area
Fine Arts Summer Camp Director
254-968-9669
