We're all familiar with the rhythm of L&D work—compliance modules, mandatory refreshers, tight deadlines. There's always another training to roll out, another competency to address. In the rush to deliver content, are we missing something fundamental about why learning happens in the first place?
I'm talking about connection. Not in the abstract "team building exercise" way, but in the everyday, human way that makes learning actually stick.
Photo by Ludmila Uleva on Unsplash
Here's what prompted this reflection: the research on workplace loneliness is pretty sobering. A significant chunk of employees report feeling isolated at work, and it's affecting everything from engagement to retention. And as L&D professionals—whether we're designing courses, facilitating sessions, or coordinating programs—we're in a unique position to do something about it.
Not by adding another module to the stack, but by rethinking what we're already doing.
What if we approached learning design with a different set of questions? Instead of only asking "What do people need to know?" we could also consider:
How will this learning create opportunities for people to connect with each other?
Where could peer-to-peer interaction actually strengthen the learning outcomes?
What moments could we create for people to feel less alone in their challenges?
Take something as straightforward as software training. Yes, it's about learning the features. But it's also about the shared experience of troubleshooting together, developing collective workarounds, and building a community of practice. What if we designed explicitly for both?
There might be ways to approach this without reinventing our entire practice. Here are some ideas that could be worth discussing:
Interaction as learning, not just engagement: What if instead of ending with Q&A, we designed discussions where people have to work through problems together? In a social media post that I wish I had saved, a professor shared his realization that his students were not asking questions in his classroom, neither to him, nor to their peers. So he altered his course structure, adding a 10 - 15 minute segment in which his students:
Wrote down questions they had
Paired up with another student to discuss the question they had and identify their answers
Share back with the class.
Would a similar practice in the corporate classroom help people actually connect and retain what they learn?
Making feedback loops real: Could peer feedback work beyond writing courses? Even in technical training, there might be moments where learners could review each other's work or approaches. Would that build empathy and create those "oh, I'm not the only one struggling with this" moments?
The small stuff: Does starting a session with "What's one thing you're hoping to get out of today?" or "What challenge brought you here?" actually make a difference? It doesn't take much time—does it help people see each other as humans, not just participants?
Personal stories > generic examples: What happens when learners share their own experiences with the topic? Does the conversation shift? Does investment increase when things feel real rather than abstract?
If you're a facilitator (or working with facilitators), what would it look like to shift from "expert delivering content" to "person creating space for connection"? Some questions worth exploring:
What happens when facilitators share their own relevant struggles or uncertainties, as Amy C. Waninger shared in her “Inside the Design” interview?
How do we listen for threads between what different people share and weave them together?
What does it look like to build in actual breaks for informal chat, even virtually?
How can we use collaborative tools in ways that let people create something together, not just consume?
None of us have to have this solved. But the question feels worth asking: could weaving connection into what we're already doing make both the learning better and the workplace more human?
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