How My Learning Tools Shaped My Pilot Study.

During my pilot study at the University, the theme “Things of Otherness” slowly shifted from an abstract idea into something I could feel, see, and sometimes struggle to interpret. The first and most grounding tool I used was observation—not just looking, but watching closely how spaces, people, and behaviours carried their own stories.

Observation; looking vs watching

I still remember my first morning on campus. I sat near the cafeteria, pretending to organize my notes, but really observing how students formed small circles, design students, engineering groups, architecture clusters, each with their own rhythm. At first, these groups felt like small islands. Their laughter, gestures, and even slang sounded foreign to me. That moment became my first lesson in otherness: belonging is something you see before you feel.

The Unseen Rhythm of Campus

But the most unexpected learning came from observing the cleaning staff members on campus. Every morning around 7.30, while most students were just arriving, the cleaning staff were already finishing their rounds. I watched one woman sweep the corridor. Students stepped around her without noticing, as if she were part of the furniture. Her movement was slow, steady, almost practiced in invisibility.

Then there were the security staff, stationed at the gates and entrances. They were present in almost every space I walked through, but they lived in a parallel rhythm of the campus. I often saw a guard at the main gate observing everyone entering, yet rarely being part of any conversation. I noticed a student greet him loudly, and the guard’s smile lasted long after the student had walked away.

One of the most unexpected observations that shaped my study was a black stray dog with visible skin rashes who wandered near the Sentra. I first noticed him lying in the shade, scratching himself gently with his back leg. Students passed him without a glance. Some stepping wide around him, others acting like he wasn’t there at all.

A few hours later, I saw him again near the canteen. He approached a group of students, but they ignored him. He then walked toward a cleaning staff member, who bent down and gave him half a bun. The dog ate beside her quietly, as if that was the only space where he felt allowed to exist.

What These Observations Taught Me

Through the cleaning staff, the security officers, and even the lonely black dog, I learned that otherness is not always dramatic or loud. Sometimes it is:

the quiet labour no one acknowledges,
the person who watches but is rarely spoken to,
the living creature who belongs everywhere and nowhere,
the one who exists on the edges of our attention.

My learning developed not from textbooks but from observing these subtle, often overlooked parts of campus life. These specific moments helped me understand that otherness is woven into the everyday rhythm of Moratuwa.

In my pilot study, culture probes became my key research tool for exploring otherness through personal responses, emotions, and everyday experiences. Rather than seeking clear answers, they allowed space for uncertainty, feeling, and quiet reflection.

Culture probes are used in design research to understand lived experiences without forcing people into fixed questions or expected responses. For my study on Things of Otherness, they helped me explore how people feel unseen, out of place, or quietly different—experiences that structured methods often fail to capture.

During the lecture, our lecturer explained that culture probes are not meant to collect accurate or complete information. Instead, they function as invitations—tools for opening conversations and encouraging personal expression. We were advised not to search for patterns or correct answers, but to pay attention to emotions, surprises, gaps, and silences. What is left unfinished, avoided, or indirectly expressed can be just as meaningful as what is clearly written or drawn. Most importantly, we were reminded that culture probes work best when participants are given freedom: to respond in their own time, in their own way, and through their own chosen forms of expression.

How We Used Culture Probes in the Project

“A Space Where I Felt Invisible” – Postcard Activity

This postcard activity invited participants to share moments that often remain unspoken. Even within a busy, shared space like a university, people can feel invisible, ignored, or out of place.

The prompt encouraged participants to pause and reflect:

Where did that moment happen?
What did it feel like?
What would that space say, if it could talk?

Participants could draw, write, or express themselves however they wished. There were no right or wrong answers. These postcards were not just individual stories—they revealed the quiet, everyday ways people experience otherness on campus. Through them, personal moments turned into shared understanding.

“Where Do I Belong?” – Campus Map Activity

This activity asked participants to see the campus not only as a physical layout, but as an emotional landscape shaped by personal experience.

Using colours—green, red, yellow, or blue—participants marked places where they felt comfort, discomfort, belonging, or exclusion. A single red dot often held an entire story of unease. A green mark suggested safety, relief, or familiarity.

These maps did not aim to judge or fix spaces. Instead, they revealed how inclusion and exclusion quietly operate across campus. By asking participants to mark just one moment, we allowed honest and subtle truths to surface.

The activity prompted deeper questions:

Who feels at home here?
Who does not?
And why?

Through these small markings, the emotional geography of campus life became visible—not as it was designed, but as it is lived.

“Exchange Something” – Object Activity

This activity focused on creating small, human connections through exchange. We offered participants a hand-drawn card with a positive quote. In return, we asked them to give us any object they had with them, no matter how ordinary.

What we received was unexpected: coins, pens, bus tickets, hairpins, bills, a cigarette box. None of these objects were valuable in a conventional sense, yet each carried a quiet personal history. They were traces of everyday life—used, touched, carried without much thought.

The exchange made people pause. It interrupted routine and created a moment of reflection and curiosity. We were not collecting objects; we were collecting moments of attention and presence. The activity reminded us that meaning often exists in the smallest, most overlooked gestures.

Emoji Board Activity – “Emotion Detector”

The emoji board was a quick, visual way to check in with how people felt on campus—without requiring explanation.

Participants simply selected an emoji that matched their current mood. Over time, the board became a mirror of campus atmosphere: happy, stressed, tired, lonely, overwhelmed, excited.

What made this activity powerful was its simplicity. A single sad emoji might go unnoticed in daily life, but when placed on a shared board, it invited awareness. Patterns began to emerge, revealing emotional rhythms tied to exams, deadlines, or specific days.

This activity reminded us that behind every person moving through campus is a feeling, a mood, a story. It wasn’t about collecting data—it was about making emotions visible in a space that often overlooks them.

Reflection

Through these culture probe activities, I learned that otherness does not always speak loudly. Sometimes it appears as a colour, a mark, an object, or an emoji. Culture probes taught me to listen differently—to value fragments, pauses, and everyday expressions as meaningful insights into lived experience.

If you want, I can:

shorten this for Medium or Instagram,
adjust it to sound more academic, or
help you write a strong concluding paragraph tying everything back to Things of Otherness.

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