If Parents Need a Dictionary to Understand Your Marketing, Something Is Wrong

I had to laugh when I recently came across a school advertisement that used the word pedagogy.

Now, I know what pedagogy means. I've spent decades in education. It's a perfectly good word, and one that belongs in many educational conversations.

But in an advertisement directed at parents?

I couldn't help but imagine a mother scrolling through her phone, seeing the word, and heading to the bookshelf to pull out a dictionary.

Of course, she's probably not going to do that. She's just going to keep scrolling.

And that's the problem.

Who Are We Actually Writing For?

Years ago, a school asked me to write an article for a newspaper article. I had done it many times, so I approached it the way I always do.

I wanted parents to see themselves in the story.

I thought about the mother worrying whether her child would find friends. The parent wondering whether the teacher would recognize their child's strengths. The joy of a child coming home excited about something they had learned.

Those are the moments that make a school meaningful to a family. And those were the moments I worked hard to bring into the article.

Then the principal received the draft.

She edited it extensively.

When I read her version, I could see what she had done. The language was polished. The educational terminology was impressive. It sounded like something you might read in a professional education journal.

But almost everything that would have made a parent feel something was gone.

The concerns, the excitement, the little details that helped a parent imagine their own child in that school had been replaced with descriptions of educational approaches and philosophies.

It sounded impressive.

But who was it impressing?

Parents Aren't Reading Your Marketing as Educators

This is something I think schools sometimes forget.

When educators read about a school, they may focus on its methodology, curriculum design, and instructional practices.

Parents are looking at the same school through a very different lens.

They're wondering whether their child will be understood. Whether they'll be happy walking into the classroom each morning. Whether they'll learn, grow, make friends, and feel good about themselves.

They're thinking about the child they know at home, with all their strengths, struggles, personalities, and possibilities.

And they're trying to picture what life will look like for that child in your school.

That's the conversation your marketing needs to enter.

You can tell parents about your differentiated instruction. Or you can help them understand that their child won't be expected to learn exactly like everyone else.

You can describe your inquiry-based learning approach. Or you can show the excitement of children asking questions, making discoveries, and wanting to learn more.

Both are communicating educational value. But only one immediately helps a parent understand why it matters.

There's a Difference Between Sounding Impressive and Making an Impression

I understand why schools lean toward formal educational language.

They work hard to create excellent programs. Their teachers invest tremendous thought and effort into what happens in the classroom. They want families to recognize that expertise.

Sometimes, in trying so hard to sound professional, they lose the human side of what they're offering.

The wonderful thing about education is that the value isn't limited to the educational philosophy behind it. The value is in what that philosophy makes possible for a child.

That's what parents need to see.

A school can have an extraordinary program, but if its marketing describes it only in language educators appreciate, parents may never fully understand what makes it extraordinary.

Don't Make Parents Work to Understand Your Value

When I write for schools, I always try to remember that the person reading isn't necessarily an educator.

They're a parent.

They may be reading while waiting in the carpool line, between meetings, or after finally getting the kids to bed.

I don't want them to decode educational terminology or figure out why a particular teaching method matters.

I want them to recognize something they care about.

I want them to read a sentence and think, That's exactly what I want for my child.

That's when marketing begins to make a connection.

And it's why I keep coming back to one simple question whenever I'm writing for a school:

Are we writing to show people how much we know, or are we helping them understand why what we know matters to their child?

Your expertise belongs in your marketing.

Just make sure the parents can see themselves in it.

And please, leave the dictionary on the shelf.

Designed to Matter — Because communicating your value matters.