Insights from a Writing Teacher Mom: The Rapid Transformation of Slang

Curious about the latest teen slang, I often ask my children, hoping they'll provide insight into the newest trends. "Our teacher mentioned we'll get warnings if anyone reacts again to 'six-seven'," they inform me. I nod in agreement with the school's stance.

Words like "bruh," "slay," "chat," and "aura" sometimes pepper their speech, yet they don't really use them often. Rather, it's more about observing these terms in the wild — absorbed from memes, TikTok clips, and YouTube videos, instead of concocting them in real conversations.

My academic background gives me a particular interest in the evolution of slang and its role in identifying social groups. I recall my teenage years when my brother humorously claimed he created the word "cheesy," and I actually believed him. This was during a time when phrases like "grody to the max," "take a chill pill," and "not," used after a statement to negate it, were in vogue.

That era was rich with sarcasm alongside a sense of collaboratively building meaning.

The Ever-Present Dynamic of Slang

These days, new slang spreads like wildfire but quickly fizzles out. Yet, the drive for imaginative wordplay and insider catchphrases hasn't vanished. There is a significant revival of casual language making its way through social media posts and seeping into daily life.

As shown in a humorous spotlight on 'Saturday Night Live,' these expressions can be both absurd and amusing. More than that, they may reflect a post-pandemic revival. It suggests a push back toward collectively crafting language that reinforces community bonds, drawing language back into a tangible, interactive plane instead of floating purely online.

On the other hand, my child in seventh grade isn't so hopeful. 'Mom, it's mainly mind-numbing junk,' he insists. The phrase 'brain rot' was chosen as the Oxford English Dictionary's Word of the Year in 2024, referencing the supposed mental stagnation that results from digesting trivial digital content — the kind that sticks stubbornly in the mind like an annoying song. Presented with examples, I found none of them was anything I recognized. While brain rot seems trapped and often proliferates through AI-generated content, slang emerges from playful and spontaneous interactions.

Even though there's a clear drift toward ridiculous and nonsensical vernacular, it's strikingly different compared to a few years ago. Those neologisms, such as 'social distancing' and 'covidiot,' were so loaded with the dark tones of that era.

Today, even if concerns have shifted, our language feels somewhat lighter, hinting at a communal yearning for release or a search for common understanding in a landscape increasingly fragmented by diverse information channels.

Creating Our Own Vernacular at Home

There's a paradox here: the same tools that have caused slang to flourish have also taken away its unique edge.

Once slang becomes instantly recognizable to a wide audience, it loses its function of denoting group identity and defying authority. I admit I too am tempted to be informed, a curiosity the internet feeds through various online glossaries and guides to Gen Z expressions.

The adult intrigue about youth slang might unveil our deeper wish for the creativity and playfulness lost to corporate language about business goals and efficiencies. Offices are rife with jargon about 'looping back' and 'pivoting', which grows as communication becomes asynchronous and more AI-driven. It's no wonder that the playful nature of slang is a relief. When it emerges naturally, rather than being churned out by algorithms, slang provides a defiance against a culture deeply fixated on productivity over creativity.

Recently, I've been reducing the distraction of today's overused expressions to focus on the language we construct as a family. Our own unique household jargon has forged a lively intergenerational interaction, full of laughter and connectedness. Within our home, you might hear quirky phrases like 'What the bingo, ignus?' or odd requests such as 'Darbitron, where's my warder barder?'

It's delightful to see which phrases catch on and how they morph over time in sound or rhythm. Once my son proudly claimed to have created 'hallee-you-la,' I didn't doubt him; there was pure joy in the creativity, in the excitement of discovering new expressions.

Amidst widespread language being projected onto us from every angle, crafting our own personal vocabulary might indeed be one of the remaining horizons where authentic creative expression can still thrive.