Instructional design
What a class full of gamers taught me about course design.
A conversation with my Grade 7 students changed the way I looked at learning activities. Their favorite games helped me see the value of clear goals, visible progress, useful feedback, and challenges that grow with the learner.
I did not expect a casual conversation with my students to influence how I thought about course design. It happened while I was teaching computer basics to a class of Grade 7 students.
Somehow, our lesson turned into a conversation about online games. The atmosphere in the room changed almost immediately. Students who had been quiet suddenly wanted to speak. They talked about difficult levels, favorite characters, frustrating controls, and the satisfaction of finally completing a challenge after several attempts.
As I listened to them, I started wondering why they would willingly repeat a difficult level but quickly lose interest in a classroom task. I knew the answer could not be as simple as adding points, badges, or competition. Still, their stories gave me something worth thinking about.
What my students liked about games
My students did not talk about rewards as much as I expected. What they remembered were the moments when they knew exactly what they needed to do. They could see how far they had progressed. They knew what happened after making a choice. If they failed, they usually had another chance to try.
They also had strong opinions about difficulty. A game that seemed impossible from the beginning made them want to stop. A game that asked them to repeat the same easy task became boring. The games they enjoyed gave them enough difficulty to keep trying without making success feel unreachable.
Their comments made me look at my own learning materials. Did my students know what they were working toward? Could they tell whether they were making progress? If they made a mistake, did the activity help them learn from it?
I realized that these questions mattered far more than whether an activity looked entertaining.
Why the interface matters
My students also complained about games with confusing controls. They disliked having to guess which button to press or what an icon meant. That sounded familiar to me.
A worksheet, presentation, or online lesson can create the same frustration. If learners need to figure out how to use the material before they can begin the activity, part of their attention has already gone somewhere else.
A clear game interface shows players what they can do and what happened after they acted. A learning interface should offer the same clarity. Buttons should work consistently. Instructions should appear when learners need them. Feedback should connect to the choice they just made.
This changed how I saw layout, color, and the placement of interactions. They were not decorations to add at the end. They influenced whether learners could focus on the task or had to stop and figure out the material first.
Putting the ideas into practice
When classes moved online during the pandemic, I had to put some of these ideas into practice. Tools such as Mentimeter allowed me to use live polls, timed questions, and class responses that students could immediately see.
I noticed how quickly feedback could change the direction of a lesson. Students did not need to wait for a graded activity before discovering that they had misunderstood something. A short question showed me where they were struggling and allowed us to address it while the lesson was still fresh.
Optional practice also gave students more room to work at their own pace. Someone who needed another example could review one without feeling that they were delaying the entire class. Someone who was ready could continue to a more difficult question.
Of course, the tool did not create participation on its own. A poll could still feel pointless. A timed question could still cause stress. The activity worked when students knew why they were doing it and received something useful from their response.
When game mechanics do not help
I also learned that adding a game mechanic can create a new problem. It is easy to place learners on a leaderboard and assume that everyone will feel motivated. I tried it more than once and saw mixed results.
Some students became more competitive and eager to participate. Others became quieter once the entire class could see that they were falling behind. What motivated one learner could embarrass another.
That experience taught me to connect each game mechanic to a specific need:
- Use timed questions only when speed forms part of the skill.
- Offer different paths when learners need different levels of support.
- Give feedback while learners can still use it to correct their decision.
- Use competition only when it feels fair and does not expose anyone.
- Allow another attempt when retrying can help learners perform better.
A game element should have a reason to exist. If it makes the screen busier without helping the learner, I would rather leave it out.
The question I ask now
I still remember that Grade 7 classroom whenever I plan an online lesson, simulation, or practice activity. I do not try to make every course feel like a game. I first consider what the learner needs at that point in the experience.
Do they need a clearer goal? Do they need to see their progress? Would another attempt help? Do they need feedback sooner? Has the activity become too easy, or does the challenge already feel unreachable?
Once I can name the problem, I can decide whether a game mechanic belongs in the activity. Sometimes it does. Sometimes a clearer instruction or a better example will help more.
My students did not give me a formula for gamification. They gave me a better set of questions. Those questions continue to guide the simulations and practice activities in my instructional design and eLearning portfolio.
Before adding a game element, can you name the learner problem it is supposed to solve?