Making the Perfect Nursing Simulation Lab Part 1: The Dream

Everyone has a mental image of the perfect nursing simulation lab.

It usually looks something like this: a beautiful, pristine space. A manikin in every bed. High-fidelity, brand-new equipment. Realistic hospital furniture and monitors. Plenty of storage. The kind of lab that photographs well, impresses visitors, and makes everyone say, “Wow.”

And honestly? I understand the appeal. I’ve felt it too.

At its core, the dream comes from a good place. We want spaces that allow us to creatively engage learners now and into the future. We aspire to meet learning objectives tied to developing competent, confident, compassionate, and safe nurses as they enter the workforce. We need the right space, the right equipment, the right people, the time, creativity, leadership support, and the budget to make it all happen.

What the Dream Gets Right

The dream isn’t naïve. It recognizes that the environment matters and space influences behavior. Tools can expand what’s possible. Simulation, done well, can bridge the gap between classroom learning and real patient care in ways few other teaching strategies can.

The dream also reflects optimism: a belief that we can do better for students, that education can evolve, and that investment in learning spaces signals commitment to the profession. Those instincts are worth honoring.

Where the Dream Starts to Drift

The problem isn’t the dream itself.

The problem is what we assume will automatically follow once the equipment arrives and the ribbon is cut.

Unspoken expectations often sound like this: the mannequins will be used all the time. They’ll be easy to operate. Everything will work straight out of the box. Faculty will naturally embrace the technology. Students will love the space. Visitors will be wowed. The lab will somehow run itself.

No one usually says these things out loud, but everyone is quietly counting on them.

This is where the dream subtly shifts from aspiration to assumption.

The Photo-Op Effect

When simulation labs are imagined primarily through images like renderings, vendor photos, and tours, it’s easy to prioritize what looks impressive over what functions well. A mannequin in every bed looks like readiness. High fidelity looks like quality. Complexity looks like rigor.

But a lab designed for visual impact doesn’t always translate into a lab designed for learning. What photographs well doesn’t necessarily teach well. And what wows visitors may quietly overwhelm the people expected to use the space every day.

The Values Beneath the Vision

Dream labs often represent values we don’t always examine closely: innovation, educational excellence, and, if we’re being honest, prestige. There’s reassurance in being able to say you have the best lab in the community. There’s pride in showing it off.

What’s less clear, especially early on, is whether the dream is truly student-centered, or whether it’s more about optics than outcomes.

That doesn’t make the dream wrong. It makes it incomplete.

The Stakeholders in the Dream

In my experience, the dream is rarely held by just one group.

Administration often sees the simulation lab as a symbol. It represents innovation, growth, and institutional investment. A new or upgraded lab signals progress- to accreditors, donors, prospective students, and the broader community. There is understandable pressure for the space to look impressive and to reflect well on the program as a whole.

Faculty, meanwhile, often approach the dream from a different angle. Many imagine a space that will finally allow them to teach the way they’ve always wanted to teach. They envision students more engaged, scenarios more realistic, and learning that feels closer to real practice. At the same time, faculty may also carry unspoken concerns about time, preparation, and their own comfort with new technology.

As a simulation coordinator, especially a new one, you often stand at the intersection of these expectations. Administration may be focused on outcomes, timelines, and optics. Faculty may be hopeful, cautious, excited, or quietly anxious. Both groups want the lab to succeed, but they may define success differently.

These pressures can subtly influence early decisions: what equipment is purchased, how quickly it is implemented, and how much space is given for learning curves, trial-and-error, and faculty development.

Why Naming the Dream Matters

Part 1 isn’t about dismissing the dream. It’s about naming it clearly, along with the expectations and pressures that surround it. Because until we do, it’s hard to understand why reality can feel so jarring when it arrives.

If you’re a new simulation coordinator navigating administrative priorities and faculty hopes at the same time, you’re not behind. You’re standing at the exact starting point from which most of us begin.

In Part 2, we’ll talk about what happens after the photo op. When the mannequin is heavy, the software is complex, faculty are nervous, time is short, and learning objectives must come first.