Looking across both the student and staff questionnaire responses, one thing becomes clear very quickly: there is a shared awareness that studio terminology is a sticking point — but it shows up differently depending on positionality in the studio.
Doing vs naming
Students repeatedly showed that they are far more confident doing than naming. Many could recognise equipment, use it correctly, and work through studio setups, but struggled when asked to name tools or explain what they were using. This came through clearly in the image-based questions, where common responses relied on generic terms like “stand”, “tripod”, or “that thing that goes on the stand”.
Staff responses strongly echoed this. Several staff noted that students often know what equipment does, but not what it’s called. One described students “pointing rather than naming”, while another reflected that students tend to describe function instead of using technical terms. This alignment between student self-reporting and staff observation is important. It suggests this isn’t a perception gap, but a real pattern. This alignment does not point to a deficit in student knowledge, it should be expected, but to a recurring pattern that raises questions about progression, timing, and how studio terminology is supported as students move further through the course.
Confidence is quieter than it looks
On paper, many students reported feeling reasonably confident in the studio. But when questions moved towards terminology, that confidence dipped. Students described looking things up after sessions, copying peers, or guessing based on context rather than asking directly.
Staff noticed the same thing. Several mentioned that students rarely say outright that they don’t understand terminology. Instead, uncertainty shows up as hesitation, silence, or reliance on peers. One staff member noted that students can appear confident and capable, while still being “quietly unsure” about what things are called.
What’s interesting here is that embarrassment wasn’t always explicitly named by students, but it still seems to be operating in the background. Not knowing the “right word” can feel like not belonging, especially in a space that already feels technical, professional, and fast-paced.
Volume, pace, and overload
Both groups pointed to the sheer amount of terminology as a challenge. Students talked about too many new terms being introduced at once and not enough time to absorb or practise them. Staff reflected on the difficulty of balancing safety, technical instruction, and creative teaching within limited workshop time.
One staff response highlighted how terminology often comes bundled with everything else: equipment handling, lighting theory, workflow, and creative decision making. In that context, it’s easy for language learning to become secondary or invisible altogether.
This raises an important question: if terminology is essential for independence and employability, where exactly is the space for it to be learned properly?
Inconsistency across staff and students
Another strong theme from the staff questionnaire was inconsistency. Several respondents acknowledged that different staff use different terms for the same equipment, often based on professional background or habit. One described how “we all use slightly different terms”, which can easily confuse students who are still building their vocabulary.
From a student perspective, this inconsistency shows up as uncertainty. If the same object has multiple names, or if names shift depending on who is teaching, it becomes harder to feel confident using any of them.
This isn’t about blaming anyone. It’s about recognising that studio language is inherited, informal, and rarely standardised. But that informality can sometimes create real barriers for learners.
Language, background, and access
Both questionnaires also pointed towards the role of background and language. Some students explicitly linked terminology challenges to English not being their first language. Staff noticed similar patterns, pointing out that students from different educational or cultural backgrounds often arrive with very different levels of exposure to studio language.
What’s important here is that terminology isn’t just technical, it’s cultural. Knowing the right words signals professionalism, experience, and belonging. When that language isn’t made explicit, it advantages those who have encountered it before.
Support, resources, and shared responsibility
When asked about support, students and staff were remarkably aligned. Visual guides, images paired with names, repetition, and the ability to revisit terminology outside of workshops came up again and again. Both groups saw value in a shared or centralised resource ® not as a replacement for teaching, but as something that supports it.
Staff responses were particularly interesting here. Several framed shared resources as a way to reduce repetition, improve consistency, and help students become more independent. One suggested that clearer terminology support would allow more time for creative problem-solving, rather than constant clarification.
There was also a sense that terminology support shouldn’t sit solely with students. Instead, it’s a shared responsibility shaped by how teaching in the studios is conducted, labelled, and talked about.
A note on responses!
It’s important to acknowledge that while the student response rate was not so reasonable, staff participation was even lower. Out of around 30 invitations sent to staff, only 7 people completed the questionnaire. This limits how far the findings can be generalised.
At the same time, the overlap between staff responses and student experiences gives weight to the themes that did emerge. The patterns are consistent enough to suggest that these issues are not isolated.
What now?
Taken together, the questionnaires show that studio terminology sits in an awkward in-between space. It’s essential, but rarely taught directly. It’s expected, but unevenly accessible. And it has a real impact on confidence, communication, independence, and how students position themselves in professional environments.
Reflecting on both sets of responses reinforces the idea that improving studio language isn’t about correcting students. It’s about evolving teaching practices, developing clearer resources, and making studio knowledge more visible and shared.
Speaking the studio, it turns out, is as much about how we teach as what we teach.
