The study arrives at a moment when education systems worldwide are grappling with how to prepare young people for interconnected crises: climate change, biodiversity loss, food insecurity and widening inequality. Education for Sustainable Development, or ESD, has emerged as the leading framework for meeting this challenge, aligning with United Nations Sustainable Development Goals including Zero Hunger, Quality Education, Sustainable Cities, Responsible Consumption and Climate Action. Yet conventional classroom teaching often struggles to connect abstract sustainability concepts with learners’ lived realities. School food gardens offer an appealing alternative, allowing children to encounter plant biology, measurement, water conservation, composting and biodiversity through direct, hands-on experience. The catch, as the research makes clear, is that a garden does not educate anyone by simply existing.

Mkhize interviewed five principals from schools participating in the Transforming Education for Sustainable Futures initiative, using semi-structured interviews lasting 30 to 40 minutes and analysing the transcripts through Tesch’s eight-step qualitative coding process. The schools, serving communities marked by high unemployment, poverty and food insecurity, ranged in enrolment from around 900 to more than 1,600 learners. All five principals were experienced leaders, with tenures ranging from nine to twenty years. The analysis produced five interconnected themes describing how these leaders understood and enacted their role in turning gardens into learning environments, and the researcher is careful to note that the findings reflect principals’ perceptions rather than independently measured outcomes.

The first theme concerned visionary leadership. Principals consistently described the need to embed gardens within the school’s mission rather than treat them as peripheral food-production projects. One principal described vision as a mental picture of what the school should become, while another stressed that running a successful school requires collective effort from all stakeholders. A third observed that a clear purpose drives resilience because staff know what they are working towards. This framing aligns closely with Hallinger’s instructional leadership model, whose first dimension, defining the school mission, involves articulating and communicating a shared direction. In these schools, that direction explicitly positioned garden-based sustainability learning as legitimate, central educational work rather than an optional extracurricular activity.

Perhaps the most practically significant finding relates to teacher capacity. Principals reported that many teachers had been trained exclusively for conventional classroom environments and lacked the confidence, pedagogical skills and horticultural knowledge needed for effective outdoor teaching. One principal noted bluntly that teachers were never trained in outdoor teaching and learning, and some had never done gardening, arguing that their professional development should be prioritised. Another explained that extending learning to the garden requires teachers to broaden their knowledge and refine their practices for interactive learning. Principals responded by promoting job-embedded professional learning communities where teachers could share ideas, mentor one another and solve problems collectively. The study frames this as an ongoing process rather than a once-off workshop, reflecting the Whole School Approach’s emphasis on capacity building as the foundation of sustainable educational change.

A third theme tackled the status of garden time within the curriculum. Principals were unanimous that taking learners to the garden is not free time, insisting that garden-based learning demands careful planning, curriculum alignment and deliberate instructional leadership. One principal offered a concrete example of integration-as-contextualisation: the language curriculum remained unchanged, but the language teacher would use nouns of things found in the garden and verbs related to activities done there. This approach preserves instructional integrity while extending learning beyond classroom walls, connecting formal objectives to observable, touchable realities. The study argues that this legitimisation of gardens as curriculum spaces, rather than recreational breaks, is precisely what distinguishes meaningful ESD from superficial outdoor activity.

The fourth theme highlighted what principals perceived as growing learner agency. Participants described children developing confidence, responsibility and problem-solving capacities through direct engagement with growing food. One principal recounted the story of a learner who planted spinach seeds, cared for the seedlings, harvested the produce and took it home to her family, proudly describing every step. Another noted with satisfaction that when crops failed, learners did not blame others but took responsibility for not nurturing their plots effectively and were ready to apply alternatives in the next round. Mkhize interprets these accounts as perceived opportunities for developing sustainability competencies such as systems thinking, collaboration and responsible action, while cautioning that learner outcomes were not independently assessed in the study.

The final theme concerned community mobilisation. Principals argued that garden success depended on shared responsibility among teachers, learners, parents and community members. One observed that a school should not be a one-man show and that stakeholders have brilliant ideas needing only the chance to be expressed. Another emphasised that when people feel valued and heard, trust is earned and communication becomes a two-way conversation. A third distinguished genuine engagement from mere compliance, describing stakeholder engagement as ongoing and continuous. These accounts position the garden as a boundary-crossing space where community knowledge, educational expertise and sustainability goals intersect, echoing the Whole School Approach’s vision of schools as agents of social transformation embedded in their communities.

Theoretically, the study makes a dual contribution. It extends Hallinger’s instructional leadership model by demonstrating how its dimensions, defining mission, managing the instructional programme and promoting a positive learning climate, apply to outdoor sustainability education rather than classroom instruction alone. Simultaneously, it enriches the Whole School Approach by showing how gardens serve as integrative spaces where leadership, curriculum, learner participation and community engagement meet in practice. Crucially, Mkhize warns against romanticising leadership agency in resource-constrained settings: principals’ resourcefulness and creativity, however impressive, should not be treated as substitutes for adequate systemic support, teacher preparation and material resources. Sustainability-oriented leadership, the study concludes, is relational, context-dependent and enabling rather than simply directive.

The research carries clear caveats and clear implications. With five purposively selected principals in a single district, self-reported interview data and a single point in time, the findings are not statistically generalisable, and the study recommends future multi-stakeholder and longitudinal research involving teachers, learners, parents and community partners. Yet its message for educators and policymakers is compelling. School gardens alone do not automatically teach sustainability; their educational value depends on leaders who legitimise garden-based learning, invest in teachers’ outdoor pedagogy, protect instructional time and cultivate authentic partnerships. As schools worldwide search for scalable, place-based approaches to climate and sustainability education, the evidence from Tshwane suggests the answer may begin not in the garden bed but in the principal’s office, where visions are articulated, resources are mobilised and a handful of spinach seeds becomes a lesson in how to shape a more sustainable future.

Subject of Research: Principal leadership for education for sustainable development through school food gardens in South African primary schools

Article Title: Using school food gardens to promote education for sustainable development: leadership perspectives from school principals in South Africa

Article References: Mkhize, B. N. (2026). Using school food gardens to promote education for sustainable development: leadership perspectives from school principals in South Africa. Frontiers in Education, 11, Article 1987792. https://doi.org/10.3389/feduc.2026.1987792

Image Credits: AI Generated

DOI: 10.3389/feduc.2026.1987792

Keywords: education for sustainable development, school food gardens, instructional leadership, school principals, South Africa, whole school approach, third learning spaces, place-based learning, sustainability education, teacher professional development, community engagement, permaculture

The six sites studied form a cross-section of southern Thai cultural life. They include the Phra Phuttha Sihing and the Small Phra Phuttha Sihing Hall, both tied to venerated Buddha images; the Chao Pho Mahachai Shrine, a center of local spiritual devotion; Lha Thao Lan, a site of community memory; the Kinnaree Roundabout, a public landmark rooted in regional mythology; and a Thai Traditional House that preserves vernacular architecture and domestic wisdom. Each of these spaces, the study argues, carries layers of meaning that connect people to place. That connection, according to the theoretical lenses of Cultural Capital Theory, Place-Based Learning, and Community-Based Cultural Development, is precisely what makes cultural spaces promising vehicles for sustainability goals that purely technical interventions often fail to achieve.

The SOAR framework itself deserves attention, because it represents a deliberate departure from the more familiar SWOT analysis. Where SWOT asks managers to catalog weaknesses and threats, SOAR is grounded in appreciative inquiry, a methodology developed by David Cooperrider and Diana Whitney that focuses on what an organization or place does well and builds strategy from that positive core. Strengths and Opportunities look inward and outward at present conditions, while Aspirations and Results orient stakeholders toward a shared vision of the future and the measurable outcomes that would signal progress. Researchers such as Jacqueline Stavros and Gina Hinrichs, who codified the approach in their 2009 book on strengths-based strategy, positioned SOAR as a way to energize planning processes rather than paralyze them with defensive risk lists. The framework has since been applied to sustainable tourism planning and organizational development, but its extension to university cultural spaces is novel.

To generate the data, Khaenamkhaew combined three qualitative methods: documentary analysis of records related to the sites, non-participant observation of how the spaces are actually used, and in-depth interviews with 24 people, including university administrators, lecturers, and support personnel. The interview count aligns with established guidance in qualitative methodology, notably the widely cited work of Greg Guest and colleagues on data saturation, which suggests that thematic saturation in relatively homogeneous groups often emerges within roughly a dozen interviews. The material was then subjected to qualitative content analysis organized around the four SOAR dimensions. The study followed Thai national guidelines for human research in the behavioral and social sciences, with informed consent, voluntary participation, and anonymity maintained throughout, and the researcher determined the work fell within categories exempt from formal ethics committee review under those guidelines.

The Strengths dimension surfaced a rich inventory of cultural assets. Participants described the sites as embodiments of local identity and spiritual values, and crucially, as repositories of environmental wisdom embedded in community practice. Sacred groves, shrine precincts, and traditional houses in Thailand frequently encode centuries of ecological knowledge, from water management to the selection of building materials, and the interviewees recognized these spaces as places where such knowledge remains visible and teachable. In the language of Pierre Bourdieu’s theory of capital, these sites function as cultural capital that can be converted into educational and social value. The study’s framing suggests that a Buddha hall or a traditional house is not a static monument but a living classroom whose authority derives from community trust rather than institutional mandate.

The Opportunities dimension pointed toward place-based learning, a pedagogical movement associated with educator David Gruenewald, who argued in 2003 that education should be rooted in the specific ecological and cultural characteristics of a location. For a university, the six campus sites offer ready-made venues for courses that connect Buddhist teachings on interdependence with conservation ethics, or that use traditional agricultural practices preserved in community memory as models for sustainable farming. Participants also saw openings for agricultural promotion, an agenda with particular resonance in a region where farming livelihoods intersect with cultural traditions, and for deeper university–community collaboration in which the campus serves as a convener rather than a gatekeeper. The study positions these opportunities as realistic extensions of what the spaces already do, rather than speculative repurposing.

The Aspirations dimension captured what stakeholders want these spaces to become. Interviewees expressed a desire to expand the educational and sustainability functions of the cultural sites, transforming them from passive heritage into active infrastructure for learning. This aspiration reflects a broader shift in higher education toward campuses as living laboratories, where sustainability is not only taught in lecture halls but demonstrated in the physical environment. In the Thai context, where universities often serve as anchors of regional identity, the aspiration carries additional weight: the cultural spaces belong as much to the surrounding community as to the institution, and their development as learning environments could strengthen town–gown relationships that benefit both sides.

An important methodological caveat runs through the Results dimension of the study. The anticipated outcomes, including enhanced environmental awareness, strengthened cultural identity, increased community participation, and expanded sustainability-oriented learning, are projections rather than measured effects. The study did not track whether visitors to the shrines subsequently adopted conservation behaviors or whether agricultural promotion initiatives materialized. This distinction matters for readers who might otherwise interpret the findings as evidence of impact. What the study establishes is a structured, evidence-informed map of potential, generated from the perceptions of people who manage and work alongside these spaces daily. Converting that potential into verified outcomes would require longitudinal or experimental follow-up, ideally measuring changes in environmental attitudes, participation rates, and agricultural practices over time.

The theoretical contribution of the work lies in extending SOAR into cultural sustainability, a domain where strategic planning tools are rarely applied. By combining the framework with Cultural Capital Theory, Place-Based Learning, and Community-Based Cultural Development, the study offers a template that other institutions could adapt. Universities across Southeast Asia and beyond hold comparable assets: historic buildings, memorial sites, sacred spaces, and examples of vernacular architecture that communities already visit and value. A SOAR-based analysis of such assets could help administrators identify which sites are best positioned to host conservation programming, which community partners should be involved, and what realistic outcomes should guide investment. The approach also aligns with a growing body of research on pro-environmental competencies in university students and on the role of cultural identity in shaping environmental behavior, suggesting that heritage and sustainability are complementary rather than competing agendas.

The study’s practical implications extend beyond the campus gates. In an era when environmental campaigns frequently struggle to overcome public apathy, culturally anchored spaces offer a channel of communication that bypasses the usual barriers of trust and relevance. A farmer who visits the Chao Pho Mahachai Shrine may be more receptive to a conversation about sustainable practices conducted on familiar, respected ground than to one delivered through an official pamphlet. The research, published on 6 October 2026 and available under DOI 10.1007/s43545-026-01804-y, ultimately argues that the greenest infrastructure a university possesses may already exist in the form of its shrines, halls, and traditional houses, waiting only for strategic vision to activate their latent educational power.

Subject of Research: Strategic analysis of university cultural spaces for environmental conservation and agricultural promotion using SOAR dimensions

Article Title: SOAR dimensions in strategic analysis of cultural spaces for environmental conservation and agricultural promotion

Article References: Khaenamkhaew, D. (2026). SOAR dimensions in strategic analysis of cultural spaces for environmental conservation and agricultural promotion. SN Social Sciences, 6(10), Article 503. https://doi.org/10.1007/s43545-026-01804-y

Image Credits: AI Generated

DOI: 10.1007/s43545-026-01804-y

Keywords: SOAR framework, cultural spaces, environmental conservation, agricultural promotion, place-based learning, cultural capital, sustainability, higher education, Thailand, qualitative research, community engagement, heritage