Reinventing the Learning Landscape: How Harvard’s Collaboration with Sesame Workshop is Redefining Education Beyond the Classroom

 The first time Veronica Ellis walked into Larsen Hall during the biting chill of a New England January, she felt a mix of curiosity, exhaustion, and, surprisingly, joy. It wasn’t just that she had sacrificed a much-needed winter break from her demanding graduate program at Harvard’s Graduate School of Education. It was the realization that this classroom—modest in size but electric in energy—would host one of the most formative experiences of her academic journey.

This wasn’t your typical academic lecture, nor was it a seminar buried in theory. Instead, it was a high-intensity deep dive into the world of informal learning—a world shaped, challenged, and illuminated by none other than Sesame Street. For Veronica and nearly 100 other students each year, the J-Term course “HT-123: Informal Learning for Children” has become more than just a coveted class. It’s a glimpse into how the future of higher education and educational technology is being rewritten in real-time 📚✨

The allure of the course begins with its faculty lead, Senior Lecturer Joe Blatt, who brings to the room decades of experience straddling the worlds of media, education, and research. As co-chair of Harvard’s Learning Design, Innovation, and Technology (LDIT) curriculum, Blatt crafts an immersive experience that speaks to the future of learning—one where executive education programs, curriculum development, and child development research converge seamlessly with storytelling, digital platforms, and community impact.

Yet, the real heartbeat of HT-123 lies in its partnership with Sesame Workshop. This collaboration isn’t a PR stunt or nostalgic throwback. It’s a rigorous, ongoing dialogue between academia and practice—a marriage of theory and impact. Over the years, the partnership has produced insights that have shaped both sectors, and now it serves as a live case study for aspiring educators, learning designers, and curriculum strategists.

Veronica wasn’t alone in feeling transformed. Each student comes into the course with a different reason for being there. Some, like early-career educators seeking advanced degrees in education leadership, come searching for ways to integrate informal learning strategies into their K-12 systems. Others, transitioning professionals with backgrounds in digital media or public health, arrive hoping to reimagine outreach through educational storytelling. The diversity of motivation adds an element of real-world unpredictability to classroom discussions. And from that diversity arises innovation.

During one morning workshop, students examined how “curriculum development” can extend far beyond lesson plans. The group analyzed how Sesame Street introduced complex emotional literacy to children through characters like Julia, a Muppet with autism. Rather than producing didactic segments, the show embedded understanding within context—portraying inclusion as something natural and intuitive. This approach to informal learning has become a cornerstone in today’s executive education programs focused on inclusive design and empathy-based leadership.

For students in HT-123, the challenge wasn’t just understanding these concepts—it was embodying them. In small, high-energy teams, they were tasked with designing their own informal learning experiences. Some envisioned animated series addressing grief and resilience in early childhood. Others proposed interactive apps that teach civic responsibility through community-driven challenges. These ideas were not confined to theoretical outlines. They were molded, revised, and presented in formal pitches to a panel of media and education leaders—many of whom held executive roles at Sesame Workshop or major EdTech companies.

The atmosphere during these pitches was equal parts nerve-wracking and electric. Veronica remembered standing in front of her judges, hands slightly shaking, but heart steady. Her team’s concept—a hybrid digital platform blending storytelling and emotional wellness for children facing family instability—struck a chord. One panelist, a veteran executive from a leading educational media platform, leaned forward and simply said, “I’ve been waiting to see something like this.”

Moments like these, though small in scale, are seismic in impact. They reflect the ethos of HT-123—an education program that doesn’t just talk about the future of learning, but actively prototypes it. This commitment is why the course has garnered a cult-like reputation among students, especially those pursuing advanced degrees in education policy, learning experience design, or nonprofit leadership.

For all its innovation, however, the course remains deeply grounded in a humanist philosophy. Blatt often reminds students that children are the “most honest audience you’ll ever face.” In practice, this means their work must be intuitive, respectful, and emotionally resonant. Designing for children isn’t about simplification—it’s about precision, empathy, and trust. These principles echo across higher education as institutions increasingly invest in child development research, educational media labs, and cross-sector partnerships.

It’s also a quiet nod to the transformation of the graduate classroom itself. No longer confined to chalkboards and readings, today’s top-tier education programs are integrating experiential design into their curricula. Online master's in education degrees are adopting hybrid models that include project-based residencies and real-world collaborations. Accredited online colleges are weaving industry mentorship into their capstones. The distinction between in-class and out-of-class learning is eroding, replaced by a more fluid model of engaged scholarship.

For students like Veronica, who will soon move into roles designing learning platforms for underserved communities, the experience of HT-123 is more than a résumé highlight. It’s a lodestar. “It’s a reminder,” she says, “that learning can—and should—happen anywhere. And when it does, it can change lives.” 💡🌍

Indeed, many HT-123 alumni have gone on to build their own educational start-ups, join global non-profits, or lead innovation hubs within universities and government programs. One former student, now directing a learning experience design team at a Silicon Valley EdTech firm, credited the course with fundamentally altering his design philosophy. Another, now working on executive education programs in the public health space, says the course helped her communicate complex health narratives in ways that resonate with families across cultural lines.

The course’s success speaks to a larger trend within elite higher education: a move toward experiential, interdisciplinary models that are deeply embedded in practice. As schools across the U.S. race to attract adult learners, mid-career professionals, and international students, there is increasing demand for education programs that blend academic rigor with tangible skills. Fields like instructional design, digital storytelling, and educational psychology are intersecting in ways never before imagined.

Harvard’s HT-123 exemplifies this shift—not by abandoning tradition, but by expanding the canvas of what education can be. The course invites students to reimagine every park bench, phone screen, bedtime ritual, and song lyric as a potential site of learning. And in doing so, it upends the assumption that classrooms are the sole home of knowledge.

There’s something poetic about the fact that this reimagining is led in part by Sesame Street—a show that, for more than half a century, has modeled how joy, curiosity, and empathy can live side-by-side with phonics, numbers, and problem-solving. That same magic is what HT-123 captures, distilled into two snow-covered weeks on a campus buzzing with ambition.

While the course may conclude after a final pitch and a flurry of applause, its ripple effects are long-lasting. Veronica remembers walking through Harvard Yard the morning after the class ended, her backpack heavier with notes and feedback, her thoughts fuller with possibility. Around her, snowflakes caught in the bare branches, and the world seemed briefly still. She thought of the children her future programs might reach, and for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel the weight of responsibility—but the thrill of potential.

Learning, after all, doesn’t belong to buildings. It belongs to moments. And sometimes, the most transformative ones begin in a little room called HT-123.