Speaking First-Gen, Part 1: Rethinking How Colleges Communicate

A three-part series for marketing & enrollment professionals

Part 1: The Hidden Language of College

How jargon and deficit mindsets quietly exclude first-generation students—and how we can fix it.

If you’ve ever said something like “Submit your matriculation fee,” “Reach out to the bursar’s office,” or “Complete the supplemental materials,” pause. Because while those may sound like standard administrative phrases in higher education, for many first-generation students what they hear is: “This isn't meant for me.”

Every industry has its own shorthand, but higher education speaks an especially insular dialect. Words like matriculate, bursar, and verification roll off our tongues, yet for many families, especially first-generation ones, they might as well be in another language.

As marketing and enrollment leaders, it’s easy to focus on yield curves, conversion rates, and inquiry volumes. But one of the most powerful access levers often lies in something simpler: language. How we talk to students, the words we choose, the assumptions we embed—all of it shapes their perception of whether they belong.

And, it hasn't been intentional. Our systems and our copy have been written by insiders, for insiders. None of this was done out of malice, but has been inherited language, passed down through forms and portals and policies. But inherited language can quietly create inherited inequity. Every acronym, every missing explanation, every robotic email says something unintentional but unmistakable: “This place wasn’t built for you.”

Who we’re talking about

“First-generation” is a broad term. Generally it means students whose parents did not complete a bachelor’s degree, while others designated specifically not completing a 4-year degree. For many institutions today, this is no niche; it’s a large portion of the population.

Depending on the data set, between 38 and 54 percent of U.S. undergraduates are first-generation. They are disproportionately students of color, more likely to work while in school, and more likely to come from lower-income households. They are balancing jobs, caregiving, and deadlines, all while decoding an unfamiliar system.

Yet these same students yield and persist at lower rates, not because of talent or motivation but because higher education still “speaks college.” When the words themselves require translation, confidence erodes before commitment begins.

Research cited in our First-Generation Marketing Playbook makes this clear:

• In the 2024 Niche Enrollment Survey, first-generation students were 42 percent more likely to engage with a college that explained processes in plain language.

  
  

• EducationDynamics (2024) found that clarity of communication ranked among the top three factors influencing college choice.

  
  

• And in Echo Delta’s Gen X Parent Study, seven in ten parents said unclear financial-aid information directly reduced their trust in an institution.

These numbers aren’t about marketing performance; they’re about psychological safety. When families understand, they engage. When they don’t, they ghost.

Where the confusion starts: Jargon

The application and initial inbound experience—the early marketing messages, landing pages, admit emails—offer the first test.

Are we speaking in plain language or layering hidden meaning?

Consider these typical phrases:

• “Matriculate” (instead of “Start classes”)

• “Bursar’s office” (rather than “Tuition & Billing”)

• “Work-study award” (versus “Part-time job you earn”)

• “Supplemental document upload” (vs. “If you need, you can submit extra info here”)

For a student familiar with higher-ed terminology, these are negligible. For a first-generation student, they might as well be in a foreign language.

The problem beneath the words

Jargon is one form of exclusion, but another runs deeper: deficit framing.

For years, first-generation students have been described as “at-risk,” “underprepared,” or “disadvantaged.” Even when well-intentioned, those words position students as problems to solve instead of partners in progress.

A growing body of research—including a Northwestern University study by Dr. Nicole Stephens—shows what happens when you flip the frame. When first-generation identity was described through leadership and interdependence rather than need, students’ confidence, belonging, and academic performance rose, closing the GPA gap with non-first-generation peers by 61 percent.

When it comes to framing, how are we describing the student? Are we defining them by deficit (“at-risk,” “underprepared,” “the gap we need to close”) or by strength (“the first in family,” “trailblazer,” “resourceful learner”)?

The difference matters.

Deficit framing tells students they’re behind; asset framing tells them they belong. Here are simple swaps that instantly change tone:

Deficit Framing	Asset-Based Framing
“Support for the at-risk student population”	“A community where first-gen students lead—in labs, clubs, and careers.”
“Underprepared learners”	“Ready-to-rise students”
“Closing the gap”	“Building the bridge”
“Helping first-gen students overcome barriers.”	“Partnering with first-gen trailblazers to turn goals into degrees.”
“Helping first-gen students overcome barriers.”	“Partnering with first-students to turn goals into degrees.”
Financial aid for disadvantaged students.”	“Investing in first-gen talent and the future they’re building.”

Each rewrite shifts responsibility from the student’s “deficit” to the institution’s duty to create clarity.

If a student feels they’re already “less than,” they may carry that mindset into every step. If they feel they’re valued—and the institution believes in their potential—the message changes.

What this means for our communications

If you want to increase access and equity for first-generation students—not just in words, but in outcomes—this begins with how we speak. Here are some practical adjustments your team can begin today:

• Use plain language everywhere. Replace institutional jargon with everyday language.

• Explain the “why.” Before asking for action (“Submit your form”), tell them why it matters.

• Audit materials from their perspective. Would a 17-year-old whose parents didn’t attend college understand this email, landing page or checklist?

• Check your framing. Are we describing these students as “helped” or “partnered”? Are we positioning them as assets or problems?

Quick checklist for your team

• Identify 10 common phrases in your materials that assume insider knowledge.

• Rewrite 2–3 pieces (admissions email, aid FAQ, orientation landing page) with first-gen clarity in mind.

• Remove at least 2 deficit-based terms from your current editorial style.

• Share these rewrites with your cross-campus team and ask: “Would I understand this if I were first in my family to go to college?”

Looking ahead

This is the root of the issue: language as access or exclusion. If we get this right, we set the tone for everything that follows—applying, selecting, paying, enrolling. If we don’t, the confusion compounds.

In the next part of this series, we’ll dive into one of the most complex moments of the student journey: financial aid. It may be the largest barrier families face, and exactly where clarity matters most.