Wayne Williams has seen a lot of change to MacEwan University’s design program over the past quarter of a century. But the assistant professor and winner of a 2024 Distinguished Teaching Award says that change is to be expected in a field that has to constantly adapt to what’s happening in the world.

We asked Professor Williams to share his journey, and he spoke about how he never saw himself as an educator, the potential for design as a force for positive change and what his students find beneath what he says can seem like a tough exterior. 

You originally planned to study art with a focus on photography. What changed?

I had been living in Vancouver for about five years and decided to move back to Edmonton to pursue a Bachelor of Fine Art, intending to incorporate photography (which I had developed a real passion for) into my painting. But photography wasn’t part of the U of A’s BFA program, so I signed up for a visual communication design course – mainly for access to a dark room. 

Early in the term, my design professor, Jorge Frascara (who would eventually become my mentor), gave an impromptu lecture about the transformative power of design – that it could be a force for good and positive change. Today, I would take issue with an overly utopian, perspective on the history of design, but the underlying notion that design is about improving situations resonated with me, so I switched programs. 

Is the idea that design has the potential to do good in the world something that sticks with you today?

That’s the kind of work I want to engage in, what I’m always trying to connect back to and, I think, my primary impetus for teaching. I tell my students that, of course, they can pursue a commercial career in design, but there is also a bigger picture. Design anthropology and design research are opening new doors, and design thinking is being applied in community engagement, health care, social justice and community building, eco-design and circular economies, and climate adaptation strategies in ways that can make a real difference.

Speaking of applying design for positive change, you worked with several students on a project with NiGiNan Housing Ventures to create a documentary film about the organization’s housing initiatives for Indigenous and chronically unhoused people in Edmonton. What stood out most to you about that experience?

Hearing residents of each of NiGiNan’s supportive housing sites speak during a panel discussion after the film’s first public screening. One resident, in particular, shared her story of struggling with alcoholism, which eventually led her to live on the street for 15 years before finding housing with NiGiNan. It reminded us how visual communication can share stories that resonate differently, build empathy and understanding, give people agency, and have the potential to change opinions and policy. 

What is it like to bring students along on that journey?

I love the moments when students get so deeply engaged in a topic, a project or an issue that it goes beyond an assignment, and they're truly invested in what they’re doing. For me, teaching and learning work best when they come together into a co-constructive process built around interaction, discussion and mutual understanding. 

I wasn’t trained as a teacher and never thought I would teach, but over the past 24 years, I’ve learned by teaching students. One of my favourite quotes is from Paulo Freire: “Whoever teaches learns in the act of teaching, and whoever learns teaches in the act of learning.” 

You’ve taught 25 courses over the years and developed almost all from scratch. What do you love to teach most? 

I really enjoy teaching history, design and material culture. My second master's degree was in human ecology and material culture, and looking at the history of design through a material culture lens was a bit of an epiphany. But typography was my first love and what I always come back to. 

What does it mean to you to receive this award?

It came out of the blue. The thing that struck me the most was reading some of the nomination letters. It reminded me of reading a letter Jorge wrote for my graduate school application. In it, he acknowledged that things don’t always come easy, I think alluding to the fact that I didn’t discover that I have dyslexia until my third year of university. He was right. 

I don’t think people who teach and who are neurodiverse or have struggled – and continue to struggle – with learning disabilities should be silent. I know from personal experience that it is possible to find ways to manage, overcome, and benefit from “thinking differently.” I try to do it every day. 

The teaching award nomination letters were similarly thoughtful to Jorge’s, including some that acknowledged that I have a bit of a reputation for pushing students, and that approach can sometimes create tension. I’ve taught nearly every first-year design student at MacEwan for the past 20-plus years, and I’ve learned that being a good teacher doesn’t mean everyone likes you. I’ve often struggled with the fact that students can react to me in very polarized ways. Some don’t get my humour. And I’m a giant, old, cis white guy. But students who really get to know me often say I’m a big softie.