Imagine Montessori School | © Mariela Apollonio Located along the edge of the En Dolça ravine in Paterna, Valencia, the Imagine Montessori School by Gradolí & Sanz Arquitectes reimagines the relationship between educational space and nature. More than an academic facility, the project is a mediating layer between the urban grid and a Mediterranean pine forest. With an architectural strategy that prioritizes child-centered learning, spatial legibility, and material authenticity, the school articulates a pedagogical framework through its built form. Imagine Montessori School Technical Information Architects1-23: Gradolí & Sanz Arquitectes Location: Paterna, Valencia, Spain Area: 2,922 m2 | 31,449 Sq. Ft. Project Year: 2017 – 2024 Photographs: © Mariela Apollonio The building is not intended to be an object in the landscape, but a part of it, an extension of the terrain that disappears so that nature becomes the true façade. – Gradolí & Sanz Arquitectes Imagine Montessori School Photographs Street View | © Mariela Apollonio Entrance | © Mariela Apollonio Facade | © Mariela Apollonio Facade | © Mariela Apollonio Courtyard | © Mariela Apollonio Opening | © Mariela Apollonio Facade | © Mariela Apollonio Terrace | © Mariela Apollonio Balcony | © Mariela Apollonio Stairs | © Mariela Apollonio Interior | © Mariela Apollonio Classroom | © Mariela Apollonio Classroom | © Mariela Apollonio Classroom | © Mariela Apollonio Classroom | © Mariela Apollonio Classroom | © Mariela Apollonio Contextual Foundations: A Site-Driven Pedagogy The school’s defining gesture is its orientation, not toward the street but toward the landscape. In rejecting the street-facing urban façade, the building signals a reversal in conventional institutional typologies. The access route begins within a pine grove, where children traverse elevated wooden walkways between trees. This procession is not simply aesthetic but symbolic: a transition from the ordered rhythms of the city into the fluid, unpredictable logic of nature. Here, the site is not an inert backdrop but an active participant in shaping architectural decisions. The building emerges as an extension of the ravine itself, folding, settling, and disappearing beneath a green roof that mimics the topography. The landscape is not curated; it is left raw and wild, with pinecones, roots, and mushrooms serving as didactic tools. The design resists the sanitization often found in contemporary schoolyards and instead engages directly with the ecological conditions of the terrain. Spatial Strategy and Pedagogical Integration Formally, the building adopts an elongated S-shaped footprint, generating two distinct outdoor voids: a western entry plaza and an eastern natural playground. This configuration does more than optimize views; it choreographs an internal spatial rhythm aligned with Montessori principles. Each classroom opens onto the ravine, allowing daylight, ventilation, and natural stimuli to become integral components of the educational environment. Interior planning is liberated from hierarchical spatial orders. There is no teacher’s desk nor any central focal point. Classrooms are divided into five zones: sensory, practical life, language, mathematics, and cultural studies, enabling fluid movement and diverse learning modes. Circulation is not relegated to corridors but expanded into informal gathering spaces: widened paths, seating niches, double-height voids, and interior balconies foster spatial democracy and autonomy. Crucially, the architecture speaks to children through scale. Arched thresholds, lofted alcoves, and floor-level seating areas are intentionally designed to accommodate bodies in formative stages. These gestures create an environment where children encounter the building not as a fixed container but as a responsive medium. Imagine Montessori School Material Honesty The building’s construction is didactic. Clay and timber, the two principal materials, are left exposed, allowing the tectonic logic of the building to remain legible. The 60 cm-thick brick walls serve as a load-bearing structure, thermal mass, and finish. There is no applied cladding; instead, the imperfections of material tool marks, tonal variation, and subtle cracks are embraced as part of the building’s expression. Wood complements clay in both structural and experiential ways. Timber roof panels, partitions, and joinery elements soften the masonry mass, introducing warmth and tactile variation. Concrete use is minimized, restricted primarily to foundations, while steel appears only in strategic elements such as railings and slender columns. Mechanical and electrical systems are not concealed behind ceilings or walls. Their visibility transforms the building into a diagram of its operation, offering students insight into energy, water, and ventilation flows. This transparency reinforces the project’s pedagogical ethos: education begins not only in the classroom but also in the fabric of the building itself. Landscape as Curriculum Rather than isolating the building from its context, the project incorporates the landscape into every facet of the educational experience. Each classroom opens directly to a semi-covered terrace with a water fountain, a deciduous tree, and tiered seating. These thresholds become spatial hybrids, neither entirely interior nor exterior, blurring the division between architecture and ecology. The ravine functions as a temporal and sensory field. Its shifting hydrology during rains, the seasonal shedding of trees, and the growth of wild asparagus are not distractions but phenomena to be observed and interpreted. There is a deliberate absence of traditional sports infrastructure; the sloped terrain is manipulated into ramps, climbing walls, and caves, inviting exploration and risk within a safe environment. This approach aligns with contemporary ecological pedagogy but avoids its typical tropes. There is no simulation of “naturalness” through curated green spaces or artificial turf. Instead, the landscape is allowed to be what it is: dynamic, coarse, unpredictable, and children are entrusted to navigate it. Imagine Montessori School Plans Ground Level | © Gradolí & Sanz Arquitectes Level 2 | © Gradolí & Sanz Arquitectes Roof Plan | © Gradolí & Sanz Arquitectes Sections | © Gradolí & Sanz Arquitectes Elevations | © Gradolí & Sanz Arquitectes Imagine Montessori School Image Gallery About Gradolí & Sanz Arquitectes Gradolí & Sanz Arquitectes is a Valencia-based architecture studio founded by Carmel Gradolí and Arturo Sanz, known for their context-driven, materially honest, and environmentally conscious designs. Since 1993, the practice has developed a diverse portfolio of public and private projects that respond sensitively to their cultural and physical surroundings. Their work often engages with heritage, pedagogy, and sustainability themes, characterized by restrained formal language and thoughtful use of local materials. Guided by a commitment to civic responsibility and architectural clarity, the studio seeks to create functional and emotionally resonant spaces. Credits and Additional Notes Lead Architects: Arturo Sanz, Carmel Gradolí, Fran López Collaborating Architects: J. Luis Vilar, María Navarro, Daniel López Quantity Surveyor: Francisco Vallet Traditional Structure Engineering: Adolfo Alonso Timber Structure Engineering: Albura Wood & Concept Acoustic Consultant: Silens Acústica  Green Certification Consultant: GBCE  Phase 1 Installations & BREEAM Consultant: Zero Consulting  Phase 2 Installations: GME  Lighting Design: Cosmo Stil General Constructor: Grupo Valseco Brick Vaults: Cercaa Exterior Wood Carpentry: Morata Interior Carpentry: DISBEA Showlutions  Metalwork: Martí Cots  Glasswork: Cristalería Crevillente  Landscape Design: GM Paisajistas  3D Visualizations: Drawfield Client: Zubi Educational Real Estate Built-up Area: 2,922 m² Usable Floor Area: 2,298 m² Plot Size: 4,556 m² Construction Cost: €4.6 million #imagine #montessori #school #gradolí #ampamp

Recycled and reused construction materials turn Urko Sánchez Architects’ Waldorf campus in Nairobi into a teaching aid When designers at Urko Sánchez Architects received a commission to design a campus in Nairobi’s leafy Karen neighbourhood, the brief from the client, the Nairobi Waldorf School Trust, was direct and concise: design a school deep in the woods without harming the trees, while preserving the old, British colonial‑style structures that would house some classes and other amenities. The school’s lease on Miotoni Road, also in Karen, had run out and it had acquired a new 10‑year lease from a local landowner to gently develop a woodland site just south of its old premises. The old school buildings were to be demolished. The brief also stipulated that the architects use little to no concrete, avoid steel and masonry, and utilise other reversible building techniques that would allow the landowner to return the plot to its natural state once the school’s temporary lease elapsed. The budget was modest, at around US$250/m². Karen, a low‑density Nairobi suburb and once part of the coffee estate run by Danish author Karen Blixen in the 1910s and ’20s, is among the few areas in the city that have withstood the pressures of modern development. Here, buildings still mingle with indigenous trees. ‘The founders of Waldorf School were inclined towards a piece of property that brought nature to the students,’ says James Kioko, the school’s director. ‘We made it clear to the architects that we did not intend to interfere with the natural vegetation. We asked them, “what if you looked for a design that went around the trees?” They did.’ The result is a campus – one of two run by the Nairobi Waldorf School Trust in the city – spread across 20 rondavel‑style classrooms dotted around the lush groves. Patterned after local Maasai homesteads, they blend seamlessly into the forest, each a tranquil haven for young minds to grow within. As the 380 students – from kindergarten to Year 12 – sit down to learn, birdsong fills the air, and an occasional rustling of leaves and the rhythmic sound of raindrops tapping on the translucent rooftops add to the soothing white noise. Winding pathways lined with flowers connect the learning spaces, with every step being an adventure in nature. The site is a celebration of sustainable coexistence with nature. ‘Some saw a challenge but we saw an opportunity,’ says Jaime Velasco, Urko Sánchez’s country director for Kenya and lead architect on the Waldorf school project.  ‘In order to embed the classrooms in the forest, we needed to know what kind of trees grew where. What was the root system like? How much empty space was available for the desired building footprint?’ Numerous concepts were presented to the primary stakeholders, including the school board, management and parents. The administration also carried out a survey among the pupils as to the kind of school environment they would look forward to attending every day. ‘We engaged the older pupils logically while younger ones were given papers to sketch the look and feel of their new school,’ says Patrick Karanja, the pedagogical team chair in charge of academics and students’ welfare. And draw they did – from elaborate football pitches to swimming pools. The main takeaway, however, was that the pupils did not want traditional box classrooms, but more playful structures made from natural materials. ‘Visitors usually confuse the design of the classrooms for a luxury tourist campsite and ask, “where’s the school?”’ ‘We sketched on forest clearings then did a prototype, a mock‑up classroom which we brought to the planning meetings,’ says Velasco. ‘One area had a sizeable clearing and we knew right away that this was going to be the kindergarten, where small children could play with proper supervision.’  Taking the theme of the traditional courtyard, or boma, the classes began to ‘grow’ among the trees. Treated timber offcuts, salvaged from local suppliers as well as the old Miotoni Road school buildings, line the bottom quarter of each classroom’s facade, giving the impression of a structure fully grounded in the soil. The space between the double polycarbonate walls is filled with leftover soil excavated from the site and compost to create a ‘living wall’ where bugs and worms can find a home. Polycarbonate roofing invites the daylight in, and reduces the need for artificial lighting. In addition, several materials from dismantled classrooms from the previous school grounds were recycled to reduce waste, save on funds and add to the school’s sustainability lessons. For example, wooden floors and walls were repurposed as parapets, and old roofing tiles converted to path boundaries. To reduce congestion in the toilets, oil drums purchased at a local second‑hand market were strategically placed on the compound to serve as washing sinks while a shipping container from the old school currently serves as the library. Although a few trees had to give way for the playground, the logs were used to create the ‘forest’ screen of the multipurpose hall.  The school is representative of the broader work of Urko Sánchez, the Spanish founder of the eponymous architectural firm. Over the past decades, Sánchez has undertaken several projects on the African continent. Upon graduating in 1998, he volunteered on the first of these along the volatile Kenya‑Somalia border, before falling in love with Lamu Island on Kenya’s north‑eastern coast, one of the oldest civilisations in East Africa and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Sánchez’s first major project in Kenya was Lamu House, a boutique hotel in Lamu’s Old Town that encapsulates the peaceful and friendly nature of the Swahili coastline. Through his Mombasa office, Sánchez worked on other projects along the coast whose development is deeply rooted in local history and culture. His techniques tell the stories of Africa’s diverse communities, each structure a narrative of identity and resilience. He found joy in the intricate thatched roofs visible in almost every village on the continent, the vibrancy of whitewashed earthen walls, and the seamless integration of buildings into their natural surroundings. At the award‑winning Red Pepper House, another small private house in Lamu with a thatched roof, Sánchez had to balance local tradition with modern conveniences while taking care not to destroy the surrounding mangrove forest. Some of these techniques would go on to be replicated in the Nairobi school project. ‘Every project is unique,’ says Velasco, his rubber boots sloshing over wet leaves outside the kindergarten. ‘We are famous for Swahili architecture because our founder started the work in Lamu and the local context drew us to do that. In Nairobi, we were also faced with environmental issues and that is why the school came out like this.’ ‘The school has triggered serious conversations among the students on the need to protect Kenya’s environment’ The very design of the school is a source of pride not only to the learners but the local community too. Karanja tells the story of a child who brought his friends to the kindergarten classroom ‘just to see the tree popping out of the roof’ – an example of the very interaction with nature that the school was hoping for. ‘Visitors usually confuse the design of the classrooms for a luxury tourist campsite and ask, “where’s the school?”’ It has also triggered serious conversations among the students on the need to protect Kenya’s environment. While hiking local nature trails, they have seen firsthand the country’s dwindling forest cover. ‘They see the diminishing snow on Mount Kenya, the country’s highest peak, as a result of climate change,’ says Karanja. ‘Then they look at their school and understand why we need the trees. More trees mean more rain; more rain results in more snow cover.’ Kioko, the school director, reckons the school’s design does much more than just create a conducive learning environment – it lays the groundwork for nurturing thoughtful, adaptable and globally conscious students that are in tune with the Waldorf style of education. According to the Association of Waldorf Schools of North America, education ‘should address the whole child – their physical wellbeing, their social and emotional wellbeing, and their intellectual, cognitive and spiritual development’, with children being ‘encouraged to engage in imaginative play, hands‑on work, and outdoor and artistic activities’. Since the founding of the first Waldorf school in 1919, this pedagogical philosophy has taken original and often pioneering architectural forms around the world, with natural materials – especially wood – being preferred for early childhood settings. The school’s eco‑friendly elements, Kioko says, serve as live learning tools that encourage students to explore real‑world applications of science and technology. ‘If you look at the national goals of education in Kenya, we are not looking for academics,’ he says. ‘The country aims to bring out a child who will fit in the society. We need thinkers outside the box. We need collaborators. We need people who can critique things, not people who just recall what they were taught in class but who interact with the ecosystem and try to solve the challenges of the real world. That is our goal.’ For Urko Sánchez Architects and the Nairobi Waldorf School Trust community, architecture goes beyond creating structures, becoming a tool to foster connection between people, their culture and their land. At the Karen campus, this was a labour of love for nurturing the future generation and a tribute to the rich architectural heritage of the African continent. Source: https://www.architectural-review.com/buildings/outside-the-box-waldorf-school-campus-in-nairobi-kenya-by-urko-sanchez-architects #outside #the #box #waldorf #school #campus #nairobi #kenya #urko #sánchez #architects