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Language is changing in EdTech, in business broadly, and just in general. I've noticed that something has crept into the way we talk to each other, and I think it’s corrosive to expressing how we feel about each other. I have an opinion about it, not because it's a crisis, but because it's a slow erosion; erosions are easy to miss until you're standing at the edge of something that used to be solid ground.
Let's start with super excited.
I sit through a lot of presentations. I join a lot of podcast conversations. I watch a lot of conference keynotes. And somewhere along the way, excitement stopped being enough. Now everyone is super excited. CEOs are super excited to announce a new hire. Podcast hosts are super excited to introduce their next guest. Company leaders are super excited to be here today and to share what they've been building.
Hey, enthusiasm is part of the game. Warmth is good. But when every introduction begins at the same elevated pitch, you haven't actually raised the bar, you’re helping move the floor. Super excited used to mean something happened that was genuinely beyond the ordinary. Is it not enough to be excited? Do I really have to be super excited?
Similarly, I think we’re losing sight of what it means to say thank you.
It seems to me that thank you so much has become the default closer for nearly every interaction. Emails. Slack messages. Conference Q&As. A presenter gets asked a hard question and the first thing out of their mouth is "thank you so much for that." A customer support rep closes a ticket. Thank you so much. A panelist wraps up. Thank you so much to our incredible moderator.
Here's the thing. Thank you so much was once reserved for moments of genuine, above-and-beyond gratitude. It carried weight because it wasn't the standard. It meant: you did something I didn't expect, and I want you to know it registered. Now it means: this exchange is concluding. The phrase still sounds warm. But the signal has been stripped out of it.
I think these things are going to become increasingly problematic. When language that inflates faster than it earns, it no longer has the same value.
The EdTech space, and really, the broader B2B marketing world, is dull of these micro-inflations. Consider a few:
Game-changing. Products are game-changing now. Not improved. Not meaningfully different. Game-changing. The thing is, most of us are still playing the same game. Some are better than others, thanks to innovation and investment, but if every single company is a game changer, what game are we even playing anymore?
Impactful. This isn’t even a real word by traditional standards, but it's everywhere. And because it's vague by construction, it does almost no descriptive work at all. Maybe it’s me, but when I hear or read this word, it doesn’t have the impact that the speaker or author intended.
Incredible (or Amazing). I’m guilty of this one. When words like these are applied to everything from a data point to a lunch break, we change the "amazing" into the new "okay." Through its overuse, what was once a way to signal wonder feels more like a way to signal that something happened.
None of these words are wrong to use. Most of them were genuinely good words, but when every participant in every room is reaching for the same superlatives, we haven't elevated your message above others, we’ve created a chorus that makes it harder to hear individual voices.
So why do we do it? I think there are a few things at work here, and they're worth exploring.
The first is mimicry, which is kind of nice. After all, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. In professional communities, language moves like a virus, traveling effortlessly from host to host until we're all exhibiting the same symptoms. But that's not because this particular virus is bad, but because mimicry sounds like belonging. When the first few influential people in a space start saying super excited or game-changing, others follow, not necessarily consciously, but because it sounds right. It sounds like the room. EdTech has its own dialect, and these inflated phrases have become part of it. But in a meeting, or conference, or panel, or brochure of people and things that are all amazing, impactful, and game changing, it’s getting harder and harder to feel super excited about them.
The second could be anxiety. There's a real fear, in presentations and in marketing copy especially, that plain language won't land. That saying "we're pleased to share" sounds flat compared to "we're thrilled to announce." That "this is a good product" is somehow less compelling than "this is a transformational solution." The language inflation is a hedge…a way of signaling that you, too, understand the stakes.
A third reason might be that these words are thrown at us with every reel, clip, or thread that comes our way. Where puppies were cute, now they’re absolutely delicious. Where funny quips were just that - funny - now they’re epic mic drops.
The consequence is that the words we’ve recently fallen in love with have stopped doing the real work of communication. As a result, communication suffers.
In a sector that cares as much as EdTech does about clarity, about reaching educators, about cutting through the noise to help schools make real decisions, this matters more than it might elsewhere. Words are still the primary tool. When the shiny words get full from overuse, the work gets harder.
I'm not suggesting we drain the warmth from our interactions. I'm not asking anyone to stop being enthusiastic. But there's a version of enthusiasm that is earned and specific and therefore actually moves people. Then there's a version that is reflexive and inflated and therefore moves no one.
The next time you write a press release, draft a conference bio, or prepare an opening for a panel, try something. Try saying exactly what you mean without reaching for the biggest available adjective. Try thank you instead of thank you so much. Try I'm glad to be here instead of I'm super excited. Try this matters instead of this is transformational.
It might be a little harder to do, which is a good thing.
In fact, that would be a super good thing.
