L&D Conferences: A Call for Innovation and Inclusion

Dear Beloved L&D Conference Organizers,

First, let me say this: I appreciate what you do. Love the energy, the commitment, and the sheer logistics of bringing hundreds (sometimes thousands!) of L&D nerds like me together under one roof.

And I know that these conferences have been a cornerstone of our community, where ideas are shared, connections are made, and our industry is shaped.

But as someone who's a bit of a "new kid on the block" — not from here, not steeped in the traditional networks — I see things a little differently. That perspective, I hope, adds value.

So, let's talk.

Learning Isn’t an Event—So Why Are Our Conferences?

As learning professionals, we live by a mantra: learning isn’t an event; it’s a process. Yet, when I look at our conferences, they feel like the one-off events we know don’t work.

Where’s the intentional practice? The guidance for implementing what we’ve learned? The “performance support” after the fact?

Imagine this instead:

• Reflection Moments Embedded Into the Agenda: Start sessions with a quick reflection on what attendees want to take away. End with a quick call to action. Rather than waiting until the very end of the conference, offer in-between spaces for people to process and reflect on what they’re learning.
• On-the-Spot Prototypes: Create creative corners at conferences where attendees can apply session learnings to a real-life project immediately, ideally with guidance from facilitators.
• Showcase Success Stories of Tangible Implementation: Highlight examples of folks who’ve taken what they’ve learned at last year’s conference and applied it. Let them share their wins, but also their fails.

If we’re serious about fostering a true community of practice, we literally need to put practice at the center of this thing. An environment where delegates can share, test, and learn together — before, during, and after the conference.

We’re Chasing Shiny Things Without Mastering the Basics

Every year, I see keynotes hyping the latest L&D trends: AI, VR, gamification. And while innovation excites me, I worry we’re chasing the fads at the expense of mastering the fundamentals.

How can we design the workplace of the future if we haven’t yet nailed the basics?

Some ideas:

• "Back to Basics" Track: Dedicate a conference stream to timeless L&D skills, featuring case studies and practice sessions.
• Mastery Clinics: Pair seasoned practitioners with less experienced attendees in mentorship “clinics” where they collaboratively troubleshoot foundational challenges.
• Real Talk Panels: Bring seasoned L&D pros on stage to share stories of when flashy ideas failed because the groundwork wasn’t there.

Foundational skills aren’t flashy, but they’re the bedrock of what makes us effective. So while we chase what’s next, we also need to master what works.

A Stage Isn’t the Same as a Voice

This one’s personal. I’ve met incredible practitioners at conferences—hardworking, dedicated, and full of ideas worth spreading. But too often, their stories don’t land.

I’m not asking for perfection. Not every brilliant practitioner is an exciting speaker and that's okay. But honoring someone’s story means helping them craft it well.

What kind of support would I love to see?

• Storytelling Bootcamps: Offer pre-conference workshops to help speakers structure their ideas and refine delivery.
• Cohort Practice Groups: Create spaces for speakers to rehearse with peers and mentors to build confidence.
• Speaker Toolkits: Provide resources on engaging audiences, using visuals effectively, and handling Q&A like a pro.

We owe it to the community to ensure every speaker’s voice is heard, understood, and remembered.

Inclusion Is the Starting Line, Not the Finish Line

There’s been real progress in bringing diverse voices to the stage, and I see it. But progress doesn’t mean the work is done.

I know what it’s like to feel like an outsider. As a woman of color navigating predominantly white, Western spaces, there are moments when I wonder, Do I belong here? Does my voice matter?

But I’ve learned this: my voice — and the voices of so many others like me — aren’t just needed. They’re essential.

Learning is universal. It’s raw, messy, and deeply personal. To design for humanity, we need all of humanity at the table.

The future of this industry simply cannot be built without diverse voices—and that diversity must go beyond tokenism. True inclusion means designing experiences that welcome, empower, and amplify underrepresented talents.

Let’s push further:

• Sponsored Attendance for Emerging Leaders: Create funds to support attendance for diverse, rising, underrepresented voices in L&D.
• Inclusive Design Committees: Consult diverse groups when planning topics, speakers, and experiences.
• Cultural Inclusion Labs: Host interactive sessions that explore how cultural differences impact learning and how to design programs that resonate globally.

Can We Look Beyond Business Impact?

I attended a session on how L&D can support sustainability and improve climate education. The room was spacious, the topic crucial, but the attendance… sparse.

It made me wonder: are we, as L&D professionals, limiting ourselves? Are we so focused on business impact and performance metrics that we forget the bigger issues that affect all of us as humans?

L&D has the potential to be a force for good, far beyond corporate walls. Imagine conferences dedicating space to “L&D for Purpose”:

• Sessions led by people who use education to tackle societal challenges like poverty, climate change, and public health.
• Case studies from nonprofits and NGOs that leverage learning to drive global change.
• A space to brainstorm how corporate L&D teams can embed social impact into their strategies.

Not only would this inspire fresh perspectives, but it would also remind us why many of us entered this field in the first place: to make a difference.

The Heart of the Matter

Dear organizers,

Our world is evolving faster than ever, and if we want to keep up, we need our conferences to reflect that development. Let's create spaces where all voices - young, old, loud, quiet, familiar, and unfamiliar - can truly thrive.

Let's celebrate the basics and support the people who make this community extraordinary.

And again, thank you. For all the hard work you do, and for making these spaces possible in the first place. I hope this letter is seen for what it is—a love letter to the community and a call to action to do better.

I’ll keep showing up. I hope you will too.

Yours, still hopeful,

Dinye