When Teacher Training Feels Like a Sales Pitch (and How to Push Back)

How to recognize the subtle tactics that steer your thinking.

Photo Credit: barbol88 (iStock)

You’ve probably sat through professional development sessions that felt genuinely useful. You left energized, with strategies you could use the very next day.

But you’ve also likely been in sessions that felt more like a sales pitch than a dialogue. Certain approaches were presented as the only right ones. Others were brushed aside with a dismissive label. Sometimes the language made it feel like you weren’t just being asked to try a teaching idea, but to buy into an entire worldview.

Most facilitators and teacher educators genuinely want the best for teachers. Their intentions are good. Still, even with the best intentions, a workshop or presentation can sometimes lean on subtle persuasive techniques that don’t feel fully transparent. They use phrases or framings that steer impressions, shut down discussion, or push you into adopting practices without leaving much space for questioning. This can leave you feeling frustrated.

In this post, we’ll examine 5 such moves that you may recognize from your own professional development experiences. If left unchecked, these moves can make teachers feel boxed in rather than supported. By becoming more aware of them, and pushing back, we can keep conversations open, thoughtful, and focused where they belong: on helping students learn.

1. “Research says…”

At some point in your teacher education journey, you’ll hear someone say, “Research says…” as if that ends the discussion. It can sound convincing. And after all, who wants to argue with science?

The problem is that “research says” is sometimes used to make an idea sound more authoritative than it really is. When you later look for an actual study, you may find it doesn’t exist. Or you might discover that the research has been misrepresented, with conclusions stretched far beyond what the evidence supports. Sometimes what’s presented as “research” turns out to be nothing more than an opinion piece with no data behind it.

Even if it does exist, the phrase “research” can mean many things: a large-scale experimental study, a small case study, or a theoretical article. Each carries very different weight when it comes to informing classroom practice. As Slavin (2002) points out, educational improvement depends not just on citing research, but on distinguishing between rigorous evidence and weaker forms of support.

Tip: You don’t need to challenge every research claim you hear. But if something feels off, it’s both reasonable and useful to ask clarifying questions that keep the conversation grounded:

• “Can you share the study?”

• “What kind of research are you referring to? Is it experimental, correlational, theoretical?” How strong is the evidence?

• “Was this tested in real classrooms with students like mine?”

You don’t need to be a researcher yourself to ask these questions. Curiosity and a little critical thinking go a long way.

When used responsibly, “research says” can actually be a great starting point for dialogue. Treat it as an invitation to dig deeper. The best facilitators will welcome your questions, because strong evidence holds up under scrutiny.

2. “Trust the Expert”

Another common move is the “trust the expert” appeal. This happens when a facilitator uses the name of a well-known authority to endorse or dismiss a classroom practice. Paul Kirschner and Mirjam Neelen refer to this as eminence-based education. The problem? It discourages questions. If you challenge the claim, it makes you sound like you’re not just questioning the practice, but also the expert’s credibility.

One version of “trust the expert” is to invoke classic thinkers like Freire, Vygotsky, Piaget, or Dewey:

• “As Freire teaches us, explicit instruction is a form of oppression.”

• “Vygotsky’s sociocultural theory suggests that students learn best when collaborating.”

• “We know from Piaget that some grade 1 children are not yet developmentally ready for reading.”

These kinds of statements sound authoritative, but they’re often vague, out of context, or oversimplified. It’s true that Freire, Vygotsky, Piaget, and Dewey offered powerful insights that still shape how we think about learning. But researchers still disagree on how best to interpret and apply their work. Dropping their names doesn’t prove that a particular classroom practice is effective.

A second form of “trust the expert” is to cite one of today’s edu-celebs — i.e., popular speakers or social media figures with large teacher followings:

• “Jo Boaler tells us that common teaching tools like flashcards and math quizzes are not only ineffective, but harmful.”

Sometimes these claims misrepresent what the person actually wrote. Other times, the quotation is accurate, but the speaker omits the fact that plenty of research points in the opposite direction.

All of these forms of, “trust the expert” are persuasive shortcuts known as an appeal to authority. They use the prestige of the expert’s name to shut down objections or cut off debate. But it is important to remember: authority is not evidence.

Tip: Respect for great thinkers matters, and their ideas can be useful starting points. But if all you hear is a name-drop, that’s a red flag. Ask for clarity and evidence. Try:

• “How does that thinker’s work apply to this specific instructional practice?”

• “Are there classroom studies that support this interpretation?”

The real issue isn’t who said something, but whether the practice has been shown to help students learn.

3. Loaded Language

Phrases like “drill and kill,” “rote learning,” “banking model,” “teaching to the test,” or “sage on the stage” are examples of loaded language. They sound catchy. But they’re not neutral descriptions. Rather they cast certain kinds of instructional practices in a negative light.

Here’s the issue: some of the very practices that get dismissed with these labels actually have strong research that supports their use. Retrieval practice and explicit instruction, for example, are highly effective for novice learners (Agarwal, Nunes, & Blunt, 2021; Kirschner, Sweller, & Clark, 2006). Yet if you say you use retrieval practice, you risk being accused of “drill and kill.” Give a clear explanation to the class and suddenly you’re a “sage on the stage.” In this manner, loaded language can discourage us from using approaches that are well supported by evidence and highly beneficial for student learning.

Loaded language also works in the opposite direction: it can romanticize practices that sound progressive or empowering, such as “student-centred learning,” “authentic assessment,” or “21st-century skills.” These terms have a positive glow, but they obscure the need to ask whether a particular practice, as it is implemented, actually improves student learning. Some of these approaches may indeed be powerful when thoughtfully implemented. The problem is that when people hear a feel-good label, they are less likely to ask for evidence of effectiveness.

To be clear, having shorthand terms isn’t the issue. Teachers naturally come up with them. The problem is when the terms get used as conversation-enders. They nudge us toward or away from ideas without encouraging real discussion or careful thought.

Tip: Watch for loaded language. These phrases are so common in education that they often slip by unnoticed, shaping our thinking without us realizing it. When you hear one, slow down and ask for specifics:

• “When you use that phrase, what do you mean? What does that look like in practice?”

• “What specific skills are you referring to, and how do you measure them?”

Try not to be swayed by loaded language. Instructional practices should be judged by their evidence and impact on learning, not by the glow or stigma that comes with a catchy phrase.

4. The Equity Justification

Equity is one of the most important goals in education. Every teacher wants all students, especially those who have been historically marginalized, to have meaningful opportunities to succeed. Because of that, it’s common to hear equity used as a justification for or against particular teaching practices.

Sometimes these arguments are thoughtful and well-supported. For example, there is evidence that some instructional approaches can narrow achievement gaps. But other times, equity is invoked to persuade the listener of the urgency of the practice. You may hear claims like:

• “X is an equity-focused instructional practice.”

• “Using X is essential if you want to foster a more equitable classroom.”

These kinds of statements are often presented without clear evidence. And because equity carries such moral weight, the practice being promoted can become fused with equity itself, as if supporting the practice proves you care about equity, and questioning it implies you don’t. That framing can shut down discussion. In reality, the real question should be whether the practice in question actually leads to more equitable outcomes. Unfortunately, that question often gets lost.

Sometimes practices criticized as inequitable, like explicit instruction, have in fact been shown to support struggling learners (Hattie, 2009; Stockard et al., 2018). It’s also the case that some initiatives promoted under the banner of equity have relatively little evidence that they improve the academic outcomes of marginalized groups.

Tip: When equity is used as a blanket justification for a practice, redirect the conversation toward evidence. Try asking:

• “Is there evidence that this practice produces better outcomes for marginalized students?”

• “Have large-scale studies looked at how this approach affects the retention, graduation, and transition rates for students from marginalized groups.?”

Equity matters too much to be reduced to slogans, or tied uncritically to particular practices. Instead we should treat equity as the guiding goal, and then ask hard questions about whether a given practice truly advances that goal. By grounding our judgments in evidence, we can focus on the approaches that actually help close gaps and support all students.

5. All Theory, No Evidence

Sometimes professional learning leans heavily on theory while skimming past evidence. Theories can be valuable: they give us frameworks for understanding learning and spark questions worth exploring. Constructivism, sociocultural theory, critical pedagogy, and cognitive load theory, for example, each provide useful lenses that help teachers think about what’s happening in the classroom.

But theories by themselves don’t prove that a particular method works. They merely suggest possibilities which then need to be tested. That’s where research comes in: trying those ideas in classrooms, refining them, and seeing what holds up. When enough high-quality studies point in the same direction, we move from theory to evidence.

Unfortunately, problems arise when theory is treated as if it is evidence. You may find yourself in a situation where you are asked to adopt a practice because it “fits” a theory, even though the practice hasn’t been shown to improve student outcomes. This leaves teachers in the dark about whether the approach will actually help their students.

Tip: When a method is presented mainly through theory, ask questions that connect it back to evidence:

• “Has this theory been tested in classrooms with students like mine?”

• “What does the research say about whether this practice improves retention and transfer?”

• “Are there multiple studies supporting this, or is it mostly speculative?”

Theories can inspire and guide. But evidence should lead the way. Strong professional development doesn’t recommend practices on the basis of theory alone. Rather it connects theory to evidence, helping teachers see both “what works in practice” and “why.”

Final Thoughts

When it’s well-implemented, teacher education sharpens your skills, expands your thinking, and leaves you feeling inspired. When it’s poorly implemented, you can end up feeling boxed in by trendy slogans, oversimplified framings, or half-truths that discourage discussion.

The good news is that you don’t have to accept these framings at face value. With small, respectful questions, you can gently redirect the conversation:

Assert things that work for you: “Yes, I use explicit instruction when students are learning something new. It helps reduce cognitive load so they can focus on what matters.”

Ask for evidence: “What’s the evidence this improves long-term retention?”

Gently challenge broad generalizations: “That’s not my understanding of explicit instruction. Let me explain how I use it.”

Pushing back doesn’t mean being combative. It means keeping the dialogue honest, evidence-informed, and centred on student learning. The very best facilitators welcome this kind of questioning, because they recognize that teachers deserve to engage with ideas, rather than simply absorb them.

Of course, raising questions isn’t always easy, especially if the speaker is your professor, supervisor, or someone else with authority. But even a quiet question, asked with curiosity rather than confrontation, can open space for more authentic dialogue.

For those of us who are facilitators of teacher education, these reminders are equally valuable. Most of us slip into using rhetorical shortcuts now and then. By keeping our language clear and evidence-focused, we can make our professional learning more open, honest, and ultimately more useful for teachers. When we do that, everyone benefits: teachers, facilitators, and most importantly, students.

---

References

Agarwal, P. K., Nunes, L. D., & Blunt, J. R. (2021). Retrieval practice consistently benefits student learning: a systematic review of applied research in schools and classrooms. Educational Psychology Review, 33, 1409–1453. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10648-021-09595-9

Hattie, J. (2009). Visible Learning: A Synthesis of Over 800 Meta-Analyses Relating to Achievement. London: Routledge.

Kirschner, P., Sweller, J., & Clark, R. E. (2006). Why unguided learning does not work: An analysis of the failure of discovery learning, problem-based learning, experiential learning and inquiry-based learning. Educational Psychologist, 41(2), 75–86. https://doi.org/10.1207/s15326985ep4102_1

Slavin, R. E. (2002). Evidence-Based Education Policies: Transforming Educational Practice and Research. Educational Researcher, 31(7), 15–21. https://doi.org/10.3102/0013189X031007015

Stockard, J., Wood, T. W., Coughlin, C., & Khoury, C. R. (2018). The effectiveness of direct instruction curricula: A meta-analysis of a half century of research. Review of Educational Research, 88(4), 479–507. https://doi.org/10.3102/0034654317751919

---