The Healing School: Medical Education

Since Dr. David L. Sackett and his colleagues at McMaster University introduced evidence-based medicine four decades ago, hospital design has been revolutionized. Three recent Canadian projects demonstrate how these principles now reach deep into all medical facility design.

A hospital can be a scary place

The Fourth‑Floor Atrium at the University of Alberta Hospital (UAH), an existing but underused glazed courtyard, has been redesigned by Reimagine Architects to support patients’ families while acknowledging cultural context and bringing a sense of calm into a frequently high-stress environment. The University Hospital Foundation mandated a setting to help families navigate long surgical waits while offering places for quiet conversation and consultation. Toni Chui, senior interior designer, describes the intent as creating “almost [a] Zen‑like space that is an escape from the rest of the hospital setting.”

In response to the Foundation’s explicit instructions, Reimagine grounded the project in biophilic design by interpreting Edmonton’s river valley landscape. The resulting “river valley theme [emerged] from Edmonton’s really beautiful, active, and protected river valley,” Chui says. Sculptural metal tree forms rise within the atrium, referencing poplars and lodgepole pines. Shaped by stories shared through the hospital’s Indigenous Wisdom Council, they reflect poplar trees’ resilience and the lodgepole pine’s tenacity after wildfires.

The circulation path follows gentle curves paved with water-coloured tiles creating a riverbed-like rhythm. Multiple integrated alcoves offer private refuge. These intimate seating areas are arranged like small clearings, says Chui, giving families options for privacy or proximity. They also serve as spaces for doctors to have sometimes difficult conversations with relatives. Along with live plants, seven large “boulders,” sculpted by Jason Carter, a Cree visual artist, continue the river aesthetic while representing the seven principals of indigenous Grandfathers’ Teachings. Patients in rooms overlooking the Atrium lacking a visual connection to nature, benefit from clear sightlines into the “valley pathway” encouraging early patient mobility.

Families can follow a patient’s progress through two integrated digital patient‑tracking boards. The lighting system is layered and adjustable, responding to seasonal changes. LED colour‑changing strip lighting supports special events including citywide celebrations, says Chui. The lighting strategy also considers how different users experience the space. “What does it feel like for a child to walk through the space versus someone in a wheelchair or for an adult who might be taller or shorter?”

A non‑denominational reflection space “nestled among [the] tree sculptures,” says Chui, “give everybody an opportunity to use the space how they want to.” Cultural sensitivity was ensured through extensive engagement with the Wisdom Council of Elders, furthering truth and reconciliation. Some Zoom meetings including other cultural groups involved over 40 participants, says Chui. Evidence‑based research, as explicitly mandated by The Foundation, has resulted in a redesigned atrium that supports stress reduction, communication, mobility, and staff wellbeing. Crucially, it acknowledges and mediates the emotional weight of waiting and the importance of connection during medical care.

A civic school of medicine

Toronto Metropolitan University’s (TMU) new School of Medicine in Brampton also involved the adaptive reuse of an existing building, the former Bramalea Civic Centre. It now functions as a community health clinic with a strong teaching role. Working with Two Row Architect, Diamond Schmitt Architects reworked the building so that teaching spaces and a public clinic are in the three-storey south wing, while the north wing contains faculty and administrative offices as well as post-graduate space and a library.

Like Edmonton’s Atrium, project architect Dennis Giobbe notes, “[TMU] wanted to embed the principles of equity, diversity, inclusion and reconciliation throughout the student experience, but especially in the design of the building.” The project is the first university building to apply TMU’s Indigenous Design Guidelines, developed with Two Row Architect.

The existing building brought constraints. “Spaces [were] designed for a different purpose,” says interior designer Haley Zhou. “It had become almost maze like in terms of its organization and had lost the clarity it once had.” The team re‑established clear circulation routes and reopened a former tiered community room as a student lounge. Flexible, operable partitions now allow classrooms to expand or contract, while translucent glass walls bring borrowed daylight into interior case‑based learning rooms.

The architects express the interior around three ecological palettes — wetlands, meadows, and woodlands — to give each program area a distinct identity.  They asked, says Zhou, how could they “re‑establish a connection with the land, inspired by the trail network across the street.” Meadows define most of the south wing, woodlands the atrium and communal spaces, and wetlands the quieter areas like offices and the library. Defined palettes guide colour, material, and environmental character of these areas.

The school wanted one’s first entry to be welcoming, says Giobbe. The original four‑storey atrium, therefore, underwent a significant transformation. Original quarry tile and split‑face block remain, but now combined with wood veneer, Corten steel, acoustic slats and planting. Chinguacousy was the original Ojibwe name for the township that became part of Brampton, meaning “land of the tall pines,” hence the abundant use of wood.

Brutalist columns reclad in wood and a dark navy ceiling establish a “midnight forest,” while “star map” lighting embeds Indigenous cosmology into the building’s central gathering space. In a written note, Two Row Architect states “the idea of an Ojibwe star map [is] a way to tell the story.” Shifting from night to day, Zhou adds, “You can see how much daylight is part of this space.” This concern for light is evident throughout with views to the outside in flexible classrooms and the use of translucent walls and doors, particularly in the high-fidelity exam rooms used for “simulating” evidence-based doctor/patient interaction.

The clinic, accessible directly from the parking lot and the one-level higher atrium, features wood, decorative film, and children’s features to replace institutional vibes with a more approachable atmosphere. Translucent glazing in exam room doors softens the clinical environment. A smudging room provides controlled conditions for ceremony, while consultation with Brampton’s diverse community led to various multi‑faith rooms.

Maximizing natural light, acoustic controls, flexible learning environments and culturally safe spaces all support well‑being. Giobbe summarizes the approach as, “If we create a great space that people like to be in, then the education and clinical experience is enhanced.” TMU’s School of Medicine embodies the use of ecological palettes and the reflection of Indigenous design principles to shape both an educational and clinical environment reflecting the people who use it.

Between heritage and modernity

The Teaching Pavilion at Hôtel‑Dieu de Lévis is a new wing combining contemporary pedagogy with regional healthcare priorities. Designed by Anne Carrier Architectes (ACA) in consortium with Coarchitecture, the pavilion employs a modern architectural language to complement rather than compete with its attached historic Augustine ensemble. As Patricia Pronovost, associate architect and firm CEO explains, “The building acknowledges the memory of the site while clearly asserting its role as a contemporary medical learning pavilion.”

The project brief required the pavilion to accommodate nearly 90 medical students in an environment that supports active hands‑on learning with collaboration between students, patients and faculty. Pronovost describes the mandate as “an attractive and distinctive learning and knowledge‑development environment rooted in the 21st century.” These pedagogical and cultural directives shaped the need for flexible teaching spaces, optimized circulation, and a spatial hierarchy that encourages spontaneous interaction but, unlike the other two projects, with a conscious modern clinical vibe.

The pavilion’s four-storey volume had to respond to a sloping topology while aligning with striking views and maintaining the legibility of the historic ensemble. A restrained material palette of the animated exterior volumes, that importantly extends fully into the interior, never overpowers the heritage structures. A 13‑metre high, fully glazed bridge provides a fluid, transparent transition that Pronovost notes “acts as a threshold between two worlds: medical education and patient care.”

Inside, the program integrates a patient‑partner clinic and specialized laboratories, ensuring theory and practice intersect within a highly legible plan. “The clinic occupies a distinct portion of the building, giving it autonomy and privacy without disconnecting it from the educational environment,” says Pronovost. The waiting area, however, is deliberately screened from the atrium to maintain dignity and calm for the volunteer patients.

Daylight and landscape views are central to the pavilion’s interior performance. Generous northwest openings capture views of the St. Lawrence River and Québec City, while southeast glazing opens onto the protected Augustines’ Garden. Pronovost emphasizes that “every room maintains a relationship with the outdoors [while] angled façades allow more natural light to enter the heart of the building.” This planning process, she continues, “recognizes the importance of avoiding enclosed, inward‑looking spaces that can negatively affect well‑being.” These moves reflect biophilic strategies derived from evidence‑informed design principles.

The four‑storey atrium is the pavilion’s social and spatial anchor. Bright, legible and again visually connected to the outdoors, it supports intuitive wayfinding and spontaneous interaction. Pronovost describes it as “a gathering space, a spatial landmark, and a structuring element of the pavilion’s everyday experience.” A central wood staircase acts as a warm visual marker, while acoustic treatments, including slatted wood panels and acoustic ceiling tiles, reduce noise and cognitive load.

Interior spaces are designed for flexibility and wellbeing. Teaching rooms include entry vestibules with dedicated storage, operable partitions, and consistent daylight access. Pronovost explains that “the building’s narrow wings distribute classrooms along the façades, ensuring consistent natural light.” Collaborative nodes along circulation routes encourage informal exchange, supporting research-linked social interaction to reduce isolation and cognitive fatigue.

The pavilion’s contribution extends beyond its strict academic function. Pronovost notes that “the project creates numerous opportunities throughout the building for rest, informal interaction and individual study.” This, she maintains, supports long‑term professional satisfaction and physician retention. Hospital staff have also adopted some of the lounges, “demonstrating the quality and versatility of these spaces beyond their initial academic purpose.” Through its integration of landscape, history, and human‑centred design, the Teaching Pavilion establishes a contextually grounded interior environment that advances medical education and patient wellbeing.

As featured in the September-October 2026 issue of Canadian Interiors magazine.