Issue 15
Dear Students,
People often ask me why I teach the way I do.
Why I spend so much time explaining the why behind design decisions.
Why I create tutorials.
Why I am so detailed in rubrics and account for every point.
Why I answer questions long after class is over.
The answer is surprisingly simple.
I'm teaching the way I wish someone had taught me.
Because looking back, I realize what I needed most wasn't another assignment. It was a mentor.
I Learned Design. I Didn't Learn the Profession.
I received an excellent design education.
I knew typography.
I knew layout.
I knew color.
I knew software.
But I had no idea how to sit in a client meeting.
Or defend a design decision.
Or explain why one solution was stronger than another.
Looking back, I realize something was missing.
I still remember walking into one of my first client meetings.
I had spent hours working on the design. I thought the meeting would be about color, typography, and layout.
Instead, the client started asking why I had made certain decisions, how the design solved their problem, and what other options I had considered.
It wasn't my design skills that caught me off guard.
It was realizing no one had taught me how to have those conversations.
No one taught me how to receive feedback without taking it personally.
No one explained how to present my work with confidence.
No one talked about working with clients, preparing production-ready files, or navigating difficult conversations.
No one explained how to think beyond the assignment.
None of those lessons were intentional omissions.
There simply wasn't enough time to teach everything.
So, like many designers, I learned those lessons through trial and error.
Sometimes the hard way.
What's Missing Isn't More Information
For a long time, I thought what I needed was more knowledge.
Another class.
Another book.
Another tutorial.
But experience taught me something different.
Information wasn't what I was missing.
Perspective was.
I didn't need someone to give me all the answers.
I needed someone who could help me ask better questions.
That's what a mentor does.
They don't replace your education.
They help you make sense of it.
Becoming the Teacher I Needed
When I eventually found myself standing at the front of a classroom, I made a decision.
I wasn't just going to teach software.
I wasn't just going to teach design principles.
I was going to teach the things I wished someone had taught me.
How to prepare files correctly.
How to think through design problems.
How to explain your decisions.
How to work with feedback.
How to navigate a creative career.
In many ways, I became the educator I needed when I was a student.
My professors gave me a strong foundation.
What I wanted to give my students was something more.
I wanted them to leave my classroom feeling prepared—not just to complete assignments, but to navigate conversations, solve problems, and build a career.
Those were the lessons I had to learn on my own.
Keep Looking for People Who Help You Grow
You may find a mentor in a professor.
A coworker.
A creative director.
A colleague.
Or someone you've never met in person whose work changes the way you think.
The important part isn't where you find them.
Sometimes they'll teach you through conversation. Sometimes they'll teach you simply by the example they set.
The important part is staying open to learning from them.
The best designers I've met never outgrow the need for guidance.
They stay curious.
They ask questions.
They continue learning long after graduation.
Final Thoughts
Looking back, I don't wish college had been easier.
I don't wish the assignments had been simpler.
I don't even wish someone had given me all the answers.
I wish someone had talked about the lessons that only became obvious years later.
Those lessons shaped my career.
They shaped the way I teach.
And they're the reason I still write these letters today.
If there's one thing I hope you take away from this newsletter, it's this:
Never stop looking for people who challenge you to think differently.
Sometimes the greatest gift a mentor gives you isn't an answer.
It's helping you ask a better question.
In design truth,
Maggie
