A School Without Corridors: How Hiwali Reimagines Education 

Hiwali School is not defined by walls or classrooms. It is defined by movement, trust, and the quiet confidence of children who know that this place belongs to them. Located in the small village of Hiwali near Trimbakeshwar in the Nashik district of Maharashtra, the school sits on the edge of terraced farmland, surrounded by forested hills, wind, rain, and long walking paths that children navigate every day. By Arya Nair

Designed by PK Inception led by architect Pooja Khairnar, the school challenges the idea that education must happen inside rigid rooms or within fixed furniture. Instead, it proposes something more humane. A learning ecosystem where architecture, curriculum, and community grow together.

The school serves children from several surrounding villages. Its teaching philosophy is shaped by the work of a single passionate teacher, Keshav Gavit, whose methods rely on collaboration, play, and self driven exploration rather than formal instruction.

Built with support from an NGO and funded through CSR contributions by Armstrong Robotics & Technologies, Hiwali School is modest in scale but expansive in thought. It is unique because it does not try to look like a school. Instead, it feels like a small settlement. A place where learning happens between rooms, on steps, under roofs, and along edges. Where children learn not only subjects, but how to belong.

SCALE sat down with Pooja Khairnar  to unpack the thinking behind a school designed without corridors, classrooms, or hierarchy.

SCALE: How did your own journey shape the way you approached a project like Hiwali School

Pooja Khairnar: My journey has always moved between practice and teaching. I was born and educated in Nashik, completed my master’s degree at CEPT University, and returned to practice in a city that is deeply connected to rural contexts. Teaching for almost a decade taught me to listen. To observe how people learn, how ideas grow slowly, and how space influences confidence.

When I began working with rural schools through NGOs, I understood that architecture here cannot be about form or image. It has to be about responsibility. These buildings are often built with money that does not belong to the users. So the question becomes how to give dignity, comfort, and ownership to people who will live with the building long after we leave.

SCALE: Can you describe Hiwali village and the context in which the school exists?

Pooja Khairnar: Hiwali is a very small village with about twenty five households. It sits within farmland and forest. There is no infrastructure in the conventional sense. The school site itself is not next to a road. It is almost fifty feet above the village path, on the topmost farming terrace.

Children walk long distances to reach the school. The site is exposed to strong winds and heavy monsoon rains. These realities shaped every decision. We could not imagine a building that ignores climate or movement. The school had to feel like a natural extension of the land.

SCALE: What made this school different even before architecture entered the picture?

Pooja Khairnar: The difference was the teacher. Keshav Gavit does not teach from a blackboard. He teaches through groups, games, farming, music, and shared responsibility. Children of different ages learn together. Older students help younger ones. Learning happens on the floor, outdoors, and through movement.

When we first visited, the classroom benches were pushed aside and used only for storage. The children preferred carpets, clusters, and freedom. That moment made it clear that architecture should not try to discipline them. It should support what already works.

SCALE: How did this learning method influence the spatial planning of the school?

Pooja Khairnar: We consciously avoided the idea of corridors and classrooms. Instead, we imagined the school as a small settlement. The plan is composed of modular blocks arranged in a loose U shape. Between these blocks are gaps that become spaces for pause, play, and informal learning.

There is no single entrance. Children enter from different sides depending on where they come from. Circulation is not linear. It is intuitive. This allows children to move freely without feeling controlled, which mirrors the way they learn.

SCALE: How does the building respond to climate and landscape?

Pooja Khairnar: The site receives strong winds from the southwest. Rather than blocking them, we allowed the wind to pass through the building. The gaps between blocks break the force of wind and allow ventilation.

The building sits lightly on the land. Steps and plinths follow the slope instead of cutting into it. During monsoon, water is guided away naturally. The school remains usable throughout the year without mechanical systems. Comfort here comes from understanding the site, not from adding technology.

SCALE: Why were brick, stone, and metal chosen as materials?

Pooja Khairnar: The choice of materials was deeply practical. The building is load bearing brick on a stone foundation. These are materials that local workers understand. If something breaks, the community can repair it.

Walls are left exposed because this is a public building. Children pin charts, hammer nails, and claim surfaces as their own. Plaster would have failed quickly. The metal roof is lightweight and easy to maintain. It floats slightly above the walls, allowing air to pass and reducing heat and noise during rain.

This is not about being vernacular or modern. It is about being sensible and respectful.

SCALE: What role do levels, steps, and edges play in learning?

Pooja Khairnar: The steps are not circulation devices. They are learning spaces. Children sit on different levels, sometimes higher than the teacher. This changes the power dynamic. Eye levels meet. Conversations feel equal.

Some platforms are finished with cow dung flooring. These areas stay warm and are used for afternoon rest. Children sleep, read, and talk here. Architecture allows learning and rest to exist together without separation.

SCALE: How has the school evolved after being occupied?

Pooja Khairnar: The building truly came alive after we handed it over. Children painted the roof with educational information. The walls are covered with charts and drawings. Every corner has a story.

The most powerful moment is when children give you a tour. They do not describe rooms. They describe actions. Here we do music. Here we do maths. Here we sleep. That sense of ownership is the real success of the project.

SCALE: What challenges did you face during construction?

Pooja Khairnar: Construction was difficult. Materials had to be transported before farming seasons blocked access. There was no formal site survey. Our team worked directly on the land, marking and adjusting in real time.

But this difficulty also allowed us to design with honesty. Decisions were made on site, in response to what we saw and felt. It was slow, but deeply rewarding.

SCALE: What does this project mean to you today?

Pooja Khairnar: This project taught me courage. The courage of a teacher who believes in children. The courage of a community that trusts architecture. And the courage of children who make space their own.

When architecture becomes part of daily life, when children do not want to leave school, you realize that the building is no longer an object. It has become a companion. That is the greatest role architecture can play.

Hiwali School reminds us that learning does not need formality to be meaningful. It needs care, freedom, and spaces that listen before they speak.