The Words We’re Teaching Our Students to Use… Aren’t Theirs A Wake-Up Call for Educators

A revealing pattern has come to light.

Over the past several months, through one-on-one interviews, classroom-based interactions, and group discussions with undergraduate students preparing to enter the workforce, a deeply unsettling trend has emerged. Students — articulate, fluent, and confident — are speaking a professional language they do not yet fully understand.

They talk about leadership, creativity, time management, critical thinking. They describe themselves as problem-solvers, team players, effective communicators. Their résumés echo with 21st-century buzzwords. But probe a little deeper, and the reality becomes painfully clear: they have learned the language without living the experience.

To test this pattern, we interviewed over 100 undergraduate students across disciplines. Nearly all used these terms to describe themselves. And yet, few could explain — let alone demonstrate — these traits in real-life scenarios.

At first, we wondered if it was a language issue. Many of our students are non-native English speakers. Were they simply translating loosely? That idea didn’t hold. These were students fluent in English — some high achievers in public speaking contests, many scoring well on international English benchmarks. The problem wasn’t how they were saying things; it was what they were saying — and whether they truly understood it.

One student from a fashion design program proudly claimed “attention to detail” as a key strength. When asked what that meant in her context, she paused before replying, “I like working on intricate hand embroidery.” What she meant was entirely valid — yet the vocabulary she used felt borrowed, distant from her lived practice.

Another common example was “leadership skills.” Students who had never led a team listed it confidently as a strength. When asked for evidence, they recalled long-forgotten school council roles or generic group projects.

This is not dishonesty. This is mimicry — and it’s deeply human.

Young people, eager to succeed, will reach for words they believe open doors. But when those words aren’t anchored in lived experience, they begin to float — weightless, untrue, and sometimes even harmful.

Have you seen this in your classrooms?

If so, I urge you not to brush it off. Because this isn’t about résumés or interviews. It’s about how identity is shaped. Language, after all, doesn’t just describe reality — it creates it. And

when students describe themselves using labels they don’t yet understand, they risk building fragile, performative confidence — not lasting capability.

But this is not a crisis without a solution.

Yes, the influences are many — job-readiness programs, social media narratives, career counseling templates. But change doesn’t need to start with the system. It can begin with us — the educators.

Why us? Because we are present. We hear the dissonance. We observe the gaps. And crucially, we have the power to reframe the language we use with our students.

We’ve done it before. Educators were the first to pivot to online teaching during a pandemic. We’ve adapted to NEP-led reforms, embraced competency-based assessments, and returned creativity to our classrooms. We’ve always been the first to rise.

Let’s rise again — by rethinking the vocabulary we teach.

Let’s replace the abstract with the actionable. Let’s give students a language they can grow into, not just wear like a badge.

Here’s how we begin:

?          Instead of saying, “Be a leader,” say:

 “One day, you’ll be leading people — start now by supporting and understanding others.”

?          Instead of, “Be a critical thinker,” say:

 “Learn to listen, stay curious, and seek out perspectives different from your own.” 

?          Instead of, “Work on your time management,” say:

 “Use your time wisely — plan your schedule, protect your focus.”

?          Instead of, “You’re a great communicator,” say:

 “You explain your ideas clearly,” or “You listen with care.”

?          Instead of, “You have creativity,” say:

 “You come up with fresh ideas,” or “You find new ways to solve a problem.”

?          Instead of, “Be good at problem solving,” say:

 “Let’s learn to fully understand a problem before we jump to solutions.”

These aren’t just word swaps. They’re cognitive anchors — helping students connect abstract traits to real, observable behaviours.

Our students are still forming their sense of self. Let’s not hand them inflated labels. Let’s give them grounded language that grows with them — language rooted in action, process, and self-awareness.

I speak from years of work across classrooms, mentoring circles, and interdisciplinary training rooms. My focus has always been to help students become ready for the future — not just sound like they are. And I believe this: the change begins not with what we teach, but with how we speak.

We may not be able to change the syllabus overnight. But we can change the words we use with our students — starting today.

 Let us be the ones to rephrase.

 Let us model clarity, process, and reflection.

 Let us help our students move from mimicry to meaning.

Because the future isn’t waiting. And neither should we.