A waiting list exists. Even though it seems insignificant, it is worth pondering for a little while. A card-based learning series based on practice and creative thinking has somehow created more demand than twelve U.S. institutions can currently handle in a time when academic publishers are going through their own slow reckoning, universities are struggling to justify enrollment numbers, and entire humanities departments are being quietly defunded. September is when classes begin. All of the seats have already been taken.
For those who are still catching up, the David Gauntlett Card Series is based on a body of work that British professor and researcher Gauntlett has been working on for years. His work takes seriously the idea that creating things—physical, creative, and frequently messy things—is a form of knowing in and of itself, placing it at an odd but genuinely fascinating crossroads. It’s not a prelude to actual intellectual work. Not a very pleasant supplement. The real thing. According to his framing, it is acceptable research to enter a room and construct something with your hands or to spread cards across a table and engage in conversation that would not otherwise occur. legitimate investigation. And more and more educators appear to concur.
Perhaps it has something to do with the timing. There has been a peculiar identity crisis in higher education for a number of years, with both students and faculty questioning what a university is truly meant to do. Lecture halls seem more and more out of date. The pandemic didn’t help either; it forced everything onto screens and eliminated the texture of face-to-face instruction, leaving teachers looking for tools that actually foster engagement rather than just carry it out. A sort of solution is provided by the Gauntlett card method. It’s not a technical one. Not an application. Just cards, discussion, and a formal invitation to reconsider how knowledge is created.
Observing this spread in academic circles, it’s remarkable how the response appears to split fairly neatly along disciplinary and generational lines. Younger faculty members typically grasp it almost instantly, especially those in the fields of design, education, social work, and the arts. They have already spent years defending practice-based approaches against those who are skeptical and want the work to resemble a journal article rather than a workshop. Gauntlett has written about the frustration that arises when a group of social scientists begin to question whether innovative research techniques are “really research,” as if the question itself were obviously disastrous. It isn’t. However, if you’re unprepared, it can feel that way.
In that way, the waiting list is more than just a practical reality. It’s a signal. In about the same time frame, twelve universities from various states, with varying institutional cultures and departmental priorities, decided that this was something worth accommodating. That is not an accident. It implies that information spread, most likely via the customary unofficial channels, such as conference rooms, email exchanges between coworkers, or someone sending a syllabus. It seems that educators who tried it once either returned wanting more or began endorsing it to others in related fields.
It’s genuinely unclear if this will continue after September. When institutional enthusiasm wanes or the follow-through proves more difficult than anticipated, pedagogical trends have a tendency to burn brightly before quietly fading. However, the waiting list does not point to a trend. It appears to be more akin to recognition—slow, earned, and spreading. The kind that is self-sustaining without a press release. The people who have witnessed it in action simply carry it from room to room.⁖※
