Puerto Rico 2050 is a design-based educational project that emerged in the direct aftermath of Hurricane Maria, one of the most catastrophic natural disasters in Puerto Rican history. Developed by Mari Mater O'Neill, an adjunct professor in Design and founder of Rubberband Design Studio, the project reimagined the purpose and structure of design education during a time of infrastructural collapse and collective trauma.

In the absence of electricity, internet, and institutional guidance, O'Neill chose not to suspend classes, but to transform them. She reached out to fellow Caribbean educator Lesley-Ann Noel (University of the West Indies) for guidance. Together, they adapted a critical, participatory curriculum rooted in resilience thinking, design fiction, and critical utopian action research.

The aim was to shift students' attention from short-term survival to long-term transformation. The project asked: What could climate relief and rebuilding look like in Puerto Rico by 2050—or 2054, as one film-inspired variation suggested? Could imagination become a method of resistance?

Context and Challenges

The class took place in a private university in Fajardo, a rural coastal town where the storm's impact was severe. Many students had lost their homes or jobs; some were living without roofs, others without internet or basic supplies. Communication was nearly impossible. Faculty members exchanged SMS messages from roadside pullouts to coordinate.

The original curriculum—focused on ethics, law, and business for graphic design—was no longer feasible. It was replaced by a radically embodied curriculum structured into four phases:

1. Understanding what happened (journaling, storytelling, reflection)
2. Thinking about utopia (future scenario-building and speculative design)
3. Making in times of catharsis (low-tech prototyping)
4. Reflection and critique (public presentations and peer review)

This curriculum invited students not just to cope with disaster, but to transform it into an occasion for design-driven civic imagination.

Participants and Methodology

The eleven participants were undergraduate design students, aged 19 to early 20s, primarily from rural and lower-middle-class backgrounds. Many were first-generation university students. The loss of digital infrastructure meant the class took place entirely on paper: all outputs—journals, mental models, diagrams, and prototypes—were made by hand. Class discussions, concept mapping, and prototyping were shared weekly on a designated classroom wall, open to peers and faculty.

Students used Mari Mater O'Neill's own Resilience Thinking Toolkit and a set of "disruptive hypothesis" cards to support ideation. They also applied the DIKW model (Data, Information, Knowledge, Wisdom) to transform lived experience into actionable insights.

Importantly, O'Neill also participated in the activities alongside her students, consciously erasing the teacher-student hierarchy to foster collective agency.

Project Outcomes

Each student identified a real issue arising from the post-Maria reality—mobility, emotional burnout, community silence, food storage, discarded trees, garbage—and translated it into a conceptual or functional design.

Examples included:

• A flying power generator that emerged from underground during emergencies.
• A solar-powered smartphone fueled by emotional energy and sunlight.
• AR glasses that helped users see new uses for fallen trees.
• A toolkit for "one day at a time" planning, to support mental health.
• A card game designed to repair strained community ties and logistics.
• A "T2TP" plastic scanner, that sent post-2054 plastic waste back to 2017 (and to Trump) via time-traveling flatulence.

Final deliverables were reviewed by a guest evaluator, and students performed mock professional presentations. Seven of the eleven participants completed fully usable prototypes.

Impact

The project served as both an academic experience and an emotional anchor. Journaling, critical discussion, and storytelling became therapeutic mechanisms. Students reported increased confidence, a stronger sense of agency, and a deepened understanding of how design could help navigate disaster—not just physically, but psychologically and socially.

Their visions of Puerto Rico's future were overwhelmingly optimistic. They imagined greener cities, localized energy systems, and self-sufficient communities. These were not fantasies but grounded, hopeful sketches of what they believed was possible—reflections of their aspiration for dignity, not mere survival.

Insights

O'Neill notes that this course was not just about climate or technology—it was about radical pedagogy in a context of collapse. She questions whether such a curriculum could be replicated outside of disaster conditions, but sees its relevance in humanitarian design contexts globally.

Students themselves articulated the difference: they were not learning about disaster—they were living it. One said, "It's a very profound experience to work this way... I am the research." Another explained, "The tools helped me realize that even in a catastrophic situation, I've maintained focus."

The project also raised critical questions about how disaster is represented—O'Neill argues for decolonizing the Hollywood image of catastrophe and creating space for real, grounded, local futures. She challenges the overuse of terms like "resilience," which may romanticize suffering. "You can't live in resilience mode forever," she says. "You'll have a heart attack. We need to imagine sustainable, peaceful futures."

Follow-up and Legacy

The project has since informed how O'Neill teaches speculative writing and foresight. She now encourages students to work with sound, storytelling, and immersion—not to escape the present, but to design from within it. She also continues to advocate for hopeful, plausible futures rather than dystopias.

Puerto Rico 2050 remains a model for how educators might respond—not reactively, but creatively—to future crises. It's a curriculum built not just to survive catastrophe, but to reimagine it.