"My brother has Down syndrome. Growing up, I watched him get pulled out of his classroom and taken down the hall into a room near the boiler room. I remember thinking, 'He's still a student.'"
Long before Valerie Peterson became an architect, she was an older sister.
Just two grades separated her from her younger brother, Brett, meaning she watched many of his school experiences unfold alongside her own. For most of the day, he learned beside his classmates, but whenever he needed extra support, he left the classroom for a space tucked away and away from his classmates and friends. That memory never left her.
"He was still a student," Valerie said. "It didn't matter that he learned differently. He deserved the same experience every other student had."
As she grew older, Brett’s teachers also shaped the way she viewed education.
"They're some of the most caring, creative and resourceful educators you'll ever meet," she shared. "Every year they have a different student with a completely different set of needs, but they're working from the same toolbox. They don't get brand-new equipment every year. They take what they have and figure out how to make it work."
She remembers one paraprofessional who cared so deeply for Brett that she followed him from elementary school through middle school, eventually becoming part of their family's life.
"Those relationships are incredible," Valerie said. "These are the people most deserving of great spaces."
Today, those experiences influence every project she leads at Wold. Before conversations turn to square footage or floor plans, Valerie wants to understand how students learn, how teachers teach and where the building can either remove barriers or unintentionally create them.
Historically, special education spaces have often been treated as something separate from the rest of the school. For Valerie, that's the wrong place to start.
"I don't think the question is, 'Where do we put special education?'," she explained. "The question is, 'How do we create a school where every student feels like they belong?'."
Her philosophy has guided projects across the Midwest. At Trailhead Learning Center in Yankton, South Dakota, special education classrooms are located alongside general education spaces rather than tucked away in another part of the building. Calming rooms are available for every student, while additional support spaces are provided for learners with more individualized needs. The result is an environment where receiving extra support feels like a natural part of the school day instead of something that divides students from their peers.
The renovation at Stillwater Bridge Transitions is another example. There, spaces were designed for young adults with disabilities ages 18-22 preparing for greater independence. Instead of focusing solely on classrooms, the building supports life skills, vocational learning and community integration, reinforcing the idea that every student deserves environments that prepare them for what's next, regardless of the path they take.
One of Valerie’s central conversations with districts centers on how thoughtful design can support the teachers and staff who use these spaces every day. As special education programs continue growing, educators often find themselves split between multiple buildings, spending valuable time traveling instead of working directly with students.
"When teachers tell us, 'If we're all together, I don't have to spend my day driving from building to building. I can spend that time with students instead,' that's huge," she shared. "Good design doesn't just support students. It supports the people who care for them every day."
Through her work with special education directors, Valerie has learned to approach flexibility with intention, especially in special education classrooms where permanent layouts can make instruction more difficult. Furniture must move, lighting needs to adjust and sensory tools should be able to change with student needs. All elements, even whiteboards, are expected to serve multiple purposes because no two students learn exactly the same way.
Even more importantly, many of those strategies benefit every learner. Quiet rooms, flexible furniture and spaces for emotional regulation are no longer viewed as accommodations for a small group of students. Increasingly, districts are recognizing that these environments help everyone.
"We've stopped asking, 'What does this group of students need?' Now we're asking, 'What kind of environment helps every child succeed?'."
For her, that's what inclusive design has always been about. Not separate spaces. Not checking accessibility requirements. Not buildings that simply accommodate students. It’s about creating schools where every child feels considered from the very beginning.
Looking back, Valerie still thinks about her brother walking down that hallway. She can't go back in time to change that experience, but with every project, she has the opportunity to help ensure another student doesn't have to wonder why they were treated differently.
At the end of the day, every student is still a student.
