Like many teachers soon be returning to their classrooms, I’ll be entering a new school where I’ll be a vice principal. New school with new colleagues and new students with new parents in a new community. I’ve been the “new kid on the block” many times in my career. Being new isn’t what is the most difficult thing though. It’s not the change in location or the change in people that is hardest thing to navigate. It’s the ongoing addition of more. More initiatives. More programs. More requirements. More demands.
All across education, educators brace themselves for the announcement of this year’s new initiative. A fresh approach to literacy instruction. A cutting-edge technology platform that promises greater growth for individual students. Or maybe it’s an innovative assessment system. Each comes with the promise of transformation, backed by research and enthusiasm. Yet educators often respond with a weary sigh, not because they oppose improvement, but because they’ve seen this movie before.
Welcome to the innovation trap—the seductive belief that educational improvement is simply a matter of finding and implementing the right new program. It’s a trap that catches well-meaning administrators, policymakers, and dedicated teachers who genuinely want to do better for their students. But like all traps, it’s designed to be appealing right up until the moment it snaps shut. It’s brings the promise of “this is it”! The innovation that will bring the much needed change that will, in fact, make a difference.
The Allure of the New
The innovation trap is powerful because it appeals to our deepest hopes, and fears, about education. We live during a time of rapid change and innovation, where yesterday’s skills become obsolete and tomorrow’s jobs require capabilities barely imagined. Where new techniques and technologies are announced on a weekly basis. The status quo feels not just inadequate but dangerous. Surely, we must keep up with the pace of change which requires constant innovation in our schools. To do so would mean students would be falling behind and not prepared for the future, whatever that might look like.
This reasoning, the need for constant change and innovation, is reinforced by a culture that celebrates novelty and disruption. We’re surrounded by stories of breakthrough technologies and revolutionary approaches that promise to solve persistent problems. The business world offers countless examples of companies that succeeded by innovating and failed by standing still. Following this same logic, if education doesn’t do the same through innovation and change, it will fail.
The trap is set. New programs often do show initial positive results. Students may be more engaged with a novel approach, teachers may feel reinvigorated by learning something new, and test scores may tick upward in the short term. These early wins create a powerful feedback loop: if innovation works, surely more innovation will work better.
The Mechanics of Exhaustion
But here’s where the trap reveals its true nature. As teachers and students experience failure in this process, these frequent changes result in fatigue, pressure and stress. Since they do not participate in decisions of these change initiatives, teachers become less and less willing to implement these changes. And these changes are happening faster and faster. Not just one new program or new software initiative but a number of them happening all at the same time.
The innovation trap operates through a predictable cycle. The honeymoon phase, where new initiatives generate excitement and energy. Teachers attend workshops, administrators tout early successes, and everyone feels optimistic about the change ahead. Then comes the reality phase, where the true work of implementation begins. New programs require new skills, new routines, and new ways of thinking. They disrupt established practices and comfortable rhythms. They require people to change their ways of doing things, to shift their patterns, and to rethink how they proceed. This dissonance causes stress which is often mistaken for resistance. So more pressure is applied to move things along, increasing the speed of which thing are being done.
This disruption might be worthwhile if schools were implementing one carefully chosen innovation at a time. But the trap’s cruel logic demands constant novelty. Just as teachers are beginning to develop competence with one new approach, another initiative arrives. And another. And another.
The result is what researchers call “initiative fatigue”—a state of chronic overwhelm that leaves educators feeling perpetually behind and never quite competent. The constant buzz of new initiatives, along with a new set of acronyms and requirements creates a growing frustration. Teachers feel deflated, overwhelmed by a new set of requirements that are often poorly explained. Teachers become like jugglers trying to keep an ever-increasing number of balls in the air. There is no way to master any one skill never mind the addition of new ones attention.
The Illusion of Progress
The innovation trap is particularly insidious because it creates the illusion of progress while actually preventing it. Schools caught in the trap are always “implementing” something, always “improving,” always “moving forward.” Meetings feature impressive presentations about new programs and how they will improve the learning and help the students. Professional development calendars are packed with training sessions. Teachers are encouraged, through multiple incentives, to give of their own time in order to attend professional development – there is not time during the school day for this to happen.
But beneath this surface activity, little deep change occurs. Programs are adopted but not truly implemented. Training is delivered but not internalized. Initiatives are launched but not sustained. The constant churn of new approaches prevents any single innovation from taking root deeply enough to create lasting change. Last years’ new software is replaced by something new. And with the introduction of AI, teachers are bombarded with the promise of being able to reclaim their spare time.
This creates what educational researcher Michael Fullan calls “the implementation dip”—the period when performance actually gets worse before it gets better as people learn new skills. But in the innovation trap, schools never stay with any approach long enough to climb out of the dip. They mistake temporary confusion for permanent failure and abandon promising innovations just as they might begin to bear fruit.
The Expertise Paradox
Perhaps most tragically, the innovation trap undermines the very expertise it claims to build. Teaching is a profession that requires deep knowledge of content, students, and pedagogy. This expertise develops slowly, through years of practice, reflection, and refinement. It takes time to develop the skills and insights into what works and what doesn’t work with a student in a particular situation. A teacher who has mastered one approach to literacy instruction can adapt it to different students, troubleshoot problems, and achieve consistently excellent results. But, if they are constantly being asked to change, this mastery doesn’t develop. Young teachers, often overwhelmed by the constant change, often fall back on teaching how they were taught or, worse yet, become so overwhelmed they choose not to stay in the profession
But the innovation trap treats expertise as obsolescence. Teachers who have developed mastery are told their methods are outdated. Schools that have achieved success with one approach are pressured to adopt new ones. The message is clear: what you know is less valuable than what you are being told to do now.
This creates a cruel irony. In the name of keeping up with change, schools abandon the very expertise that would enable them to implement new approaches effectively. They forgo long-term develop for short-term implementation. They become organizations of perpetual beginners, always learning but never mastering.
The Sustainability Crisis
The innovation trap also creates a sustainability crisis that extends far beyond individual teacher burnout. When schools constantly adopt new programs, they must constantly train teachers, purchase new materials, and reorganize existing structures. This is expensive in terms of both money and time.
More importantly, it’s expensive in terms of institutional memory and culture. Schools that constantly change lose the ability to reflect on what works and what doesn’t. They can’t build on past successes because they’re always pursuing new ones. They can’t learn from mistakes because they’re always making new ones. And as teachers and administrators leave the school, and the profession, the institutional memory becomes short-term with little connection to what worked successfully and why. Without this, innovation is seen as the only option to improvement.
Breaking Free
So how do schools escape the innovation trap? The answer requires a fundamental shift in how we think about change itself. Instead of asking “What’s new?” we must learn to ask “What works?” Instead of seeking the next breakthrough, we must focus on breakthrough implementation of proven practices. The incremental growth of new breakthroughs means there will always be something new. That is a given. The focus needs to be, not on what is new, but what has been shown to work. And this takes time.
This doesn’t mean abandoning innovation. It means being strategic about it. Schools that successfully avoid the trap typically follow a few key principles:
They innovate selectively. Rather than adopting every promising new program, they carefully choose innovations that align with their core mission and build on their existing strengths. They ask not just “Does this work?” but “Does this work for us, with our students, in our context?” These schools take time for teachers to reflect on what is working and where there needs to be change. The provide time for teachers to discuss and work together, working collaboratively to meet the needs of students.
They implement thoroughly. Before adopting any new program, they commit to giving it adequate time, resources, and support. They understand that real implementation takes time and requires time for reflection and adjustment. They’re willing to stay the course even when initial results are disappointing knowing that there will be success and setbacks – all part of the learning journey.
They protect what works. When they do find approaches that serve their students well, they defend them against the pressure to constantly change. They recognize that consistency can be more valuable than novelty and providing teachers with the opportunity to grow and develop mastery is an essential part of supporting student learning.
They build from strength. Rather than constantly trying to fix weaknesses, they focus on building from their existing strengths. They ask what they’re already doing well and how they can do more of it. They don’t ignore weaknesses but realize that, by building on their strengths, they have a greater chance of bringing about the necessary change to support student learning.
The Deeper Innovation
The most profound innovation schools can make is not in their programs but in their approach to change itself. They can choose to be learning organizations rather than implementing organizations—places where change emerges from careful study of their own practice rather than from external mandates. When teachers are provided the time to gather, discuss, and reflect, their self-efficacy grows stronger. This, in turn, provides a stronger likelihood that any changes they implement will be successful.
Research shows that teachers with high levels of self-efficacy are more open to new teaching methods, set themselves more challenging goals, exhibit a greater level of planning and organization, direct their efforts at solving problems, seek assistance, and adjust their teaching strategies when faced with difficulties.
This requires what Peter Senge calls “systems thinking”—the ability to see the patterns that connect seemingly separate events. When schools think systemically, they recognize that sustainable change requires not just new programs but new ways of thinking about how programs fit together. They engage their teachers to look for ways to make changes and support them in their efforts. They understand that the goal is not to find the perfect program but to build the capacity to implement any program well. They focus on developing the professional culture, collaborative structures, and reflective practices that enable continuous improvement rather than constant change.
The Wisdom of Restraint
In our culture of constant innovation, there’s profound wisdom in restraint. Schools that resist the innovation trap don’t oppose change—they oppose change for its own sake. They understand that the most innovative thing they can sometimes do is to stop innovating and start implementing well. This requires courage because it means resisting the pressure to be constantly new. It means being willing to be seen as behind the times in order to be genuinely ahead of the curve. It means choosing depth over breadth, mastery over novelty, and sustainability over speed. In a world that is always racing to see who can be the first to implement and change, they recognize that the professionals in their schools need opportunity and support to be agents of change.
The innovation trap promises schools that they can change their way to excellence. But the truth is more paradoxical: sometimes the best way to change is to stop changing long enough to let good ideas take root and grow. Sometimes the most innovative approach is the one that honors what is currently working while adapting thoughtfully to what is new. It doesn’t mean ignoring change but being proactive about how change can support teachers.
The quest for more in education must become a quest for better. Better dosen’t comes from more programs—it comes from better implementation, careful choice, and keen awareness that any innovation must align with our deepest values and highest aspirations for our students.
