Language is powerful. The words we use reflect how we think about the world and our role in it. In education, ‘student’ is the label we use for children and young people. It seems harmless, even practical. However, at Class 13, we’ve made a conscious decision not to use the term—and here’s why.

Brazilian educator Paulo Freire (1968) introduced the ‘banking’ concept to describe education that treats students as “banks” or containers and teachers as the all-knowing sole “depositors” of knowledge. In this model, students are passive, expected to memorise and repeat what they are taught by their teacher and students’ existing knowledge is ignored. 

We believe that calling young people ‘students’  echoes the ‘banking’ concept. By definition a ‘student’ is simply a person who studies, so using this label reduces young people to passive recipients of knowledge and nothing more.

But young people are more than just students—they are thinkers, creators, and activists, with experiences and knowledge that bring value to the classroom. Using the label ‘students’ effectively strips them of this fullness, boxing them into a role that fits neatly into the education system’s expectations rather than one that honours their full humanity.

The Historical Context

Throughout history, dehumanising language has been used as a tool  of oppression, often reducing marginalised groups to objects or stereotypes. This tactic has been used across oppressive systems, from colonialism to slavery, and continues in education today. By reducing individuals to a single identity or role, we do not see people as whole or worthy, making it easier to justify exclusion or mistreatment.

Indigenous peoples and enslaved Africans were labelled “savages” and “uncivilised” to create and sustain broader racist narratives that these groups were inherently violent and therefore not human. This narrative was a vital mechanism in justifying the oppression of these groups and it persists to this day. In 2015, Katie Hopkins used this technique, saying “these migrants are like cockroaches” to justify her suggestion of shooting at boats of asylum seekers.

In education, this practice is not new. Young people have long been labelled as “problematic,” “troubled,” or “disadvantaged.” In the 1960s and ‘70s, children deemed to have lower intelligence were deemed “educationally subnormal”; nowadays you’re more likely to see language like “under-achieving” or “not at the expected level”. These labels all serve to reduce children and young people down to unidimensional objects, reinforcing deficit narratives that blame young people rather than the system. This not only absolves the system of responsibility for addressing inequities but perpetuates a cycle where young people are seen as the problem to be fixed, rather than as individuals navigating a broken system.

This isn’t far removed from the labels used for indigenous peoples and the enslaved. Have you or your colleagues ever referred to young people or their communities  as “uneducated” or “feral”? How many degrees of separation exist between “uncivilised” and “troubled families”? Between “savages” and “feral” or “problematic”? These labels, whether historical or modern, serve the same purpose: to dehumanise and justify exclusion. These labels were and still are used to legitimise mistreatment—and if your inner voice says, “But it’s true,” that’s something worth reflecting on.

Words Create Possibilities

So, instead of students, we prefer to say ‘young people’. This shift in language may seem small, but it opens up big possibilities. By saying ‘young people,’ we refuse to reduce their identity to school performance or behaviour in school. We are acknowledging their entire being and signalling our belief that young people are active participants in their learning journey—not just bodies in seats or empty vessels to fill with knowledge. 

Paulo Freire noted that failing to recognise the humanity of others dehumanises both sides. This is illustrated by (lack of ) bathroom access for both young people and teachers in schools. We’ve heard of children as young as five developing UTIs because they were denied bathroom breaks; disturbingly, the teaching profession also struggles with this.  Saying ‘young people’ serves as a dual reminder: first, they are young and still learning, deserving of grace and patience; the same patience we’d extend to a learner driver—beeping and shouting won’t help. Second, they are people, deserving of respect in everyday moments, such as when they ask to use the bathroom.  We acknowledge that they are whole beings, with talents, aspirations, and challenges that extend beyond the classroom. When we see them this way, we’re reminded that education isn’t about forcing them into a mould but about helping them grow into the best version of themselves.

A New Vision for Education

Shifting the language creates space for new possibilities in education. It moves us away from seeing young people as problems to be fixed or vessels to be filled with knowledge. We often hear about “one teacher with a class of 30 students.” But what if we understood that there are actually 31 people in the room? Shifting language in this way opens the door to countless possibilities for deeper connection and growth. It pushes us to view education as a collaborative, dynamic process where everyone—educators, young people, and communities—are active participants. It opens the door to countless possibilities for deeper connection and growth.

Seeing young people as partners in their education, not just recipients, is vital for creating more equitable schools. It means creating spaces where they feel valued, where their identities are honoured, and where their voices are heard. By using the term ‘young people,’ we signal our commitment to this vision and invite others to join us in reimagining what education could be.

Education isn’t just about imparting knowledge—it’s about building relationships, fostering growth, and creating a more just and equitable world. When we shift our language, we create new possibilities for what education can be. We create a space where young people are seen as whole, complex individuals, not just students to be taught.

Are you ready to see the young people in your school differently? Ready to open up the possibility for deeper relationships and greater equity in your classroom? It starts with the words we choose. Let’s choose possibility.