It wasn’t your conventional classroom. We sat huddled together around a couple of steel tables within the Prudential Mall food court. Commercialism cradled us with neon signs for pizza, Chinese and New England clam chowder. Branded napkins littered the floor and food peddlers summoned us to sample goodies. Unorthodox as it was, it proved to be the perfect setting for our learning exercise.

A few weeks prior to that August day, my firm had been contacted with an opportunity to participate in Youth Design Boston 2006. The collaborative initiative between AIGA Boston and the City of Boston provides inner-city high-school students with design mentorships by offering paying summer jobs within various design disciplines such as graphic, industrial and architectural design. This particular year four talented city teens—Carlos Cardoso, Michael Chew, Alec Mauré and Ifeoma Onuorah—were chosen for the prestigious internships at some of the city’s best firms. Once a week other studios and freelance designers provided different views on design by taking the aspiring designers on field trips. We were among the handful of firms asked to volunteer. While we felt honored to be asked, I wondered whether these city kids would really have an interest in what we’d have to share.

When planning our excursion, my creative director and firm principal Paul Tepperman, our summer intern Bryn Tattan and I decided we didn’t want to lecture the kids. We didn’t want a show-and-tell session either. We wanted to interact to hear their thoughts. So we devised a scavenger hunt. We armed the kids with cameras and a list of adjectives: conservative, playful, sophisticated, urban, et cetera and asked them to troll the nearby streets or mall and meet back at the food court 30 minutes later with photos of logos fitting the descriptions. But the assignment was more complicated than a simple click of the shutter. The teens had to explain why they thought the found logo was conservative or playful, sophisticated or pedestrian.

Surprisingly, they returned with a bounty of examples. Chew identified the Newbury Comics logo as playful, while Mauré thought the “feet” or serif on the Talbot’s logo made it look more conservative. In an almost lawyerly fashion, they made their cases showing us how in touch they really are with the work we do everyday.

“I was really impressed with the kids,” said Tepperman. “They seemed a lot more aware of the world around them than I would have been in high school.”

I admit, I too was blown away. And I continue to marvel at their comprehension of design as a profession, nevermind how a logo communicates a certain message. I had no idea the design field existed at their age. But then again, I never had the degree of exposure these kids have to design.

“We’re hit in the face every day with design,” said Mauré. “It has a larger effect on us and we’re more conscious of it.”

It’s truth from the mouths of babes. Design is everywhere as evidenced simply by picking up the Sbarro fountain soda cup I drank while chatting with the kids. MTV, iPods, sports paraphernalia, video games and even text messaging are major components of teen culture.

Young adults “are major and sophisticated consumers of design...[who]...influence design trends. [Kids] are much more in tune, than in years’ past to the role that design plays in creating status,” agreed Paul Sproll, department head of Art and Design Education at Rhode Island School of Design (RISD) and a recognized national leader in the youth design education movement.

This growing teen power, among other things, has increased attention on kids and design. Consequently, design education and mentorship programs have germinated all around the country. They take different forms: some are privately-run mentorship programs, some are run by art institutions and others are publicly-funded school initiatives. But all share the goal of outreach and design education for kids.

It seems, however, that despite the constant exposure kids have to design, many remain unconvinced of the value of youth design education programs. With dollars at a premium, opponents contend that the funds for these different programs might be better spent teaching traditional reading or arithmetic, or perhaps providing nutritional programs or other support. I recently argued this point with a respected friend. He would prefer his kids learn “traditional curriculum.” Learning design was taking away from the basics. I haven’t taken a poll, but I’ll bet he’s not alone in his views.

Predictably, my fellow designers, design educators and I disagreed with this point of view.