instructional designer
This week has been transformative in how I view myself as an emerging instructional designer. The discussions about real-world practice, its ethical tensions, competing priorities, and creative possibilities, pushed me to examine my own assumptions about what this work truly entails. For a long time, I saw instructional design as a natural extension of teaching: a way to make learning engaging and accessible through technology. Now, I see it as something far deeper, an act of translation between pedagogy, psychology, and human experience. This shift has challenged my belief that good design simply means creating polished materials; instead, it demands empathy, ethical awareness, and a willingness to interrogate who benefits from our designs and who might be unintentionally excluded.
As I’ve been completing my portfolio and beginning to apply for instructional design internships, I’ve noticed my inbox slowly filling up with newsletters from Devlin Peck, Dr. Luke Hobson, and other industry voices. At first, it felt overwhelming, every article seemed to reveal another tool I didn’t yet know, another skill I should develop. But instead of intimidation, I began to feel a sense of belonging. These emails became reminders that I’m part of a growing professional conversation, and that I’m not simply preparing to enter the field, I’m already participating in it. That small but constant stream of insights and advice has been a tangible symbol of transition for me, a daily nudge that I’m moving in the right direction.
This transition has also created a genuine disorienting dilemma. I’ve had to confront self-doubt about leaving the familiarity of the classroom and stepping into a space where my teaching expertise must be reframed. Yet this tension has clarified my purpose: I’m not abandoning education, but expanding it. Seeing my classroom experiences translated into design artifacts, storyboards, learner personas, and prototype modules, proved that I can merge pedagogy with design thinking in meaningful ways.
Emotionally, I’ve moved from anxiety to affirmation. Revising my portfolio forced me to revisit my learning philosophy, tracing how my commitment to inclusivity, experiential learning, and self-efficacy can manifest in digital environments. What motivates me most is not the technology itself, but the possibility of creating belonging and agency for learners, especially those who have felt unseen or underestimated. That emotional insight reframed my understanding of instructional design as not only a technical craft, but also a moral and relational practice.
Through this week’s exploration, I’ve developed a more nuanced sense of meaning. I now understand instructional design as both an art and an ethical responsibility, to humanize learning in systems that often prioritize efficiency over connection. This realization has strengthened my resolve to approach design work critically, to question the cultural, social, and emotional implications of every learning experience I create. I’m leaving this module with renewed clarity. I want to design learning that empowers, includes, and transforms, and this week confirmed that this is not just the career I can do, but the one I’m meant to pursue.
