Instructional Designers are not just Building Courses
This week, my learning centered on instructional design models and how they provide systematic but adaptable approaches to course creation. When I first entered this class, I thought instructional design was mainly about order, following a clear checklist to make sure objectives, assessments, and activities matched. I imagined it as a rigid process where success came from consistency. What I have learned, however, is that consistency does not necessarily mean uniformity. Instead, instructional design thrives on the balance between structure and flexibility. That realization required me to rethink one of my own assumptions about education, that clarity and creativity are in opposition.
The dilemma I faced this week was seeing the same models I thought were “rules” instead presented as “guides.” For example, ADDIE is often described as a generic framework, but both SUNY and UConn adapt it in ways that reflect their institutional priorities. SUNY emphasizes accessibility, quality assurance, and continuous improvement, while UConn focuses heavily on alignment through the Course Design Plan. These variations show that instructional design is not a single formula to be followed, but a family of approaches that must be adapted to the context, learners, and goals of a course. This challenged my earlier view that instructional designers strive for standardization across all environments. Instead, the real skill lies in knowing when to uphold a structure and when to modify it.
On one hand, I was excited to see how flexible design could be, because it validated my own teaching instincts. I have always resisted creating learning environments that feel mechanical or overly prescriptive. On the other hand, I felt some anxiety because flexibility requires judgment. It means I cannot simply rely on a pre-made formula; I need to weigh the needs of learners, institutional expectations, and the learning environment each time I design. Recognizing this emotional response helped me understand something deeper: that the tension I feel between wanting to be precise and wanting to be humane is exactly what makes instructional design complex and meaningful.
One way I made sense of this was by reframing the conflict. The dilemma is not “rigid versus flexible.” Instead, the more useful question is, “How can I design with both clarity and humanity?” SUNY and UConn’s models both answered this in their own way. SUNY’s focus on accessibility showed me that clarity can be an act of equity; making navigation and expectations simple is a way of caring for students who may otherwise feel lost. UConn’s emphasis on alignment reminded me that structure prevents drift, ensuring learners are not completing busywork but activities that actually lead to meaningful outcomes. Seeing the ethical dimensions of design, how choices can either empower or overwhelm students, helped me move beyond technical thinking toward a deeper moral awareness of my work.
In my professional practice, I see immediate applications of these insights. For example, I plan to use a Course Design Plan not only as an organizational tool, but as a reflective map that ensures every objective connects to an activity and assessment. At the same time, I want to embed opportunities for choice and interaction so learners feel ownership of their experiences. In future courses I design, I will build clear weekly navigation and aligned objectives, but I will also humanize those spaces with discussion prompts, reflection opportunities, and multimedia that invite students into a conversation rather than a checklist. I hope that students will feel both guided and free, that clarity and creativity can work together rather than against each other.
Ultimately, this week reshaped how I view instructional design. I now understand it not only as a technical process but as an ethical and relational one. Instructional designers are not just building courses; they are shaping how students encounter knowledge, how they experience learning, and even how they feel about themselves as learners. This carries a responsibility that is both daunting and inspiring. My lingering question is: How can I continue to cultivate this balance between structure and humanity as I move into more complex design projects?
