When a London secondary school issued a list of banned expressions-among them “oh my days,” “innit,” and “bare“-it sparked a backlash that stretched far beyond the classroom. Linguists, teachers and commentators quickly weighed in, arguing that prohibiting slang not only misunderstands how language works, but risks stigmatising the identities and communities of the pupils who use it. At the center of the debate is a familiar tension: should schools police the way students speak in the name of “correct” English, or embrace linguistic diversity as a tool for learning and inclusion? This article examines the controversy surrounding the school’s decision, the concerns raised by language experts, and what it reveals about power, prejudice and the evolution of everyday speech.
Linguists warn slang ban risks silencing authentic youth voices in London classrooms
Language scholars argue that the crackdown on expressions like “bare,” “peng,” “innit,” and the now-infamous “oh my days” is less about tidying up grammar and more about policing identity. They note that London’s youth vernacular, shaped by Black British English, Caribbean Creoles, South Asian languages and social media culture, reflects complex, multilingual realities that traditional classroom English fails to capture. By insisting on a narrow version of “proper” speech, critics say schools risk reinforcing social hierarchies where middle‑class, white, and suburban norms are treated as the only legitimate models, while the everyday speech of many pupils is coded as inferior or problematic.
- Researchers stress that slang use does not prevent mastery of standard English.
- Teachers report that banning familiar words can damage rapport and trust.
- Students say their speech is being pathologised rather than understood.
| Key Term | Typical Meaning | Linguists’ View |
|---|---|---|
| Multicultural London English | Urban youth dialect | Rich, rule‑governed variety |
| “Standard English” | School‑approved norm | One variety among many |
| Slang ban | Behavior policy | Symbolic language control |
For many experts, the real educational challenge is not eradicating playground phrases but teaching pupils to navigate different registers-switching between formal and informal styles depending on context. They propose that schools adopt an approach of “additive bilingualism” within English itself, treating youth dialects as assets to build on rather than errors to erase. This could mean explicitly teaching code‑switching strategies, analysing grime lyrics alongside Shakespeare, and allowing pupils to reflect on how they adapt their voices across home, street and classroom. Without such recognition, linguists warn, the classroom risks becoming a place where young Londoners learn that to succeed, they must first silence themselves.
Inside the policy staff confusion parents concerns and the hidden curriculum of language norms
Behind the neat letterhead of “raising standards,” staff admit privately they are unsure where enforcement ends and everyday communication begins. Is a teacher allowed to say “guys” to a class? Must a pastoral worker correct a pupil who lets slip a casual “safe,miss” while opening up about bullying? In rushed briefings and crowded inboxes,policy bullet points collide with the messy reality of school corridors,leaving many relying on instinct rather than guidance. That uncertainty is mirrored in the playground, where pupils report mixed messages and parents hear conflicting explanations from different members of staff, deepening a sense that the rules are less about learning and more about policing identity.
Parents’ evenings now feature hurried conversations about “future employability” and “getting ready for interviews,” but in the background a quieter lesson is being delivered: that certain ways of speaking are inherently wrong, not just context-dependent. This unspoken syllabus teaches pupils that powerful institutions speak one kind of English, and that their home voices are a problem to be fixed. It seeps into daily life in subtle ways:
- Self-censorship: pupils rehearse “proper” sentences before raising a hand.
- Social sorting: accents and slang become unofficial markers of “seriousness.”
- Muted participation: those less confident in standard English simply speak less.
| Official Message | Hidden Lesson |
|---|---|
| “We’re preparing you for the world of work.” | Your community’s speech doesn’t belong in success. |
| “Use formal English in class.” | Only one voice counts as clever here. |
| “Slang is not appropriate in school.” | Part of who you are must stay at the gate. |
What research really says about slang learning and identity in multilingual urban schools
Across classrooms where dozens of home languages mingle with English,sociolinguists consistently find that slang is not linguistic “laziness” but a flexible toolkit for belonging,creativity and resistance. Long-term studies in London,Toronto and Johannesburg show young people switching between school-standard English,heritage languages and street styles like Multicultural London English to signal subtle differences in stance and solidarity. Far from blocking academic attainment, this kind of repertoire juggling often strengthens metalinguistic awareness: pupils learn to read a room, adjust tone and vocabulary, and navigate power relations. Research also notes that attempts to police “non-standard” talk can sharpen feelings of exclusion, especially among working-class and racialised students who already see the curriculum as distant from their lives.
What scholars do challenge is the romantic idea that all slang use is empowering.Studies of peer-group talk point to how some expressions can reinforce sexism, homophobia or anti-immigrant sentiment, whether in “standard” English or not. The evidence suggests that critical discussion, not prohibition lists, is more effective: when teachers analyze language as data-who uses which words, in what spaces, and with what consequences-students gain tools to question both prejudice and prestige. Many researchers now advocate a “both/and” pedagogy that explicitly teaches academic registers while legitimising urban vernaculars as rich resources.That approach, they argue, aligns more closely with what happens in real multilingual cities, where language is less a fixed code to master and more a social practice to be negotiated in everyday life.
Towards inclusive language policies how schools can set standards without erasing student speech
Rather than treating playground vocabulary as a contagion to be stamped out, schools can design language policies that distinguish between contexts, not “good” and “bad” forms of speech. That means helping students recognize when academic English is expected, while still validating the slang, dialects and multilingual repertoires they bring from home. Practical steps might include classroom discussions about why exam boards require certain registers, teachers modelling code-switching aloud, and curriculum units that analyse grime lyrics or TikTok captions alongside canonical texts. When pupils see that their everyday expressions are worthy of study, they are more likely to view standard forms as an added tool, not a rival identity.
Institutional guidelines can also be more precise and less punitive, shifting from blanket bans to clear, transparent expectations. Instead of pinned-up lists of forbidden words, schools might publish short, accessible frameworks that focus on purpose and audience:
- Clarify when formal language is necessary (essays, interviews, public events).
- Encourage students to keep their linguistic identities in informal and creative tasks.
- Train staff to correct work, not accents or home varieties, avoiding public shaming.
- Consult student councils on any policy affecting the words they use every day.
| Policy Focus | Excludes | Includes |
|---|---|---|
| Exam writing | Slang in final answers | Planning in any variety |
| Class talk | Insults,slurs | Dialect,multilingual chat |
| Creative work | None on style | Slang,code-switching,hybrid forms |
In Summary
As the debate over “oh my days” and its kin reverberates far beyond the corridors of one London school,it exposes a fault line between those who view language as a set of rules to be enforced and those who see it as a living record of who we are. For teachers under pressure to raise attainment, the impulse to tidy up pupils’ speech can feel pragmatic. For linguists, it is indeed a gesture that risks pathologising the very communities schools are meant to serve.
Whether the ban endures or quietly falls out of use, the controversy has already done something no staff memo ever could: it has pushed questions of accent, class and identity into the spotlight. the issue may not be whether children say “oh my days” in the playground, but whether schools can find ways to teach standard English without silencing the voices that brought those pupils to the classroom in the first place.
