Resistance is Only Fun in Electricity
Resistance is only fun in electricity. And yet here we are in education, treating teacher resistance like it's a character flaw instead of... physics.
You know the drill: You're crafting that email about the new initiative, and Maria's face pops into your head. The crossed arms. The tight smile. The "I've seen this before" look. So you spend an hour rewording paragraph two, trying to find the magical phrase that won't set the building on fire.
Or you're walking to observe that lesson, already dreading the post-conference because you know exactly how Travis is going to respond to your feedback. You're rehearsing your phrasing, your tone, wondering which version of your carefully crafted coaching questions will land without triggering the shutdown.
What if I told you their resistance isn't the problem? What if it's actually the most useful data you're going to get?
What Engineers Know That We Don't
Here's what electrical engineers understand that educational leaders often miss: resistance isn't personal. It's just... there. Copper wire has resistance. Tungsten has resistance. You can't guilt a resistor into conducting better.
But you CAN measure it. Account for it. Design with it in mind.
In electrical systems, there's a beautifully simple relationship: Voltage = Current × Resistance. Translation: the amount of resistance in your system determines exactly how much energy you'll need to create flow. You can't eliminate the resistance—it's a property of the materials you're working with. But you can understand it, and once you do, you can calculate what's actually needed.
Push harder without understanding the resistance? You just generate heat and burnout.
Work WITH the resistance—understanding what's causing it—and you can figure out exactly what's needed to get the current flowing.
So what does that mean for the teachers on your campus?
Measuring the Resistance
Engineers don't get frustrated that copper wire has resistance. They measure it. They ask:
What's the gauge of wire I'm working with?
Translation: What's this teacher's current capacity? Are they teaching four different preps while sponsoring two clubs and covering someone's conference period? Or do they actually have some bandwidth? Asking someone who's already maxed out to take on something new isn't resistance—it's physics. The wire is too thin for the load.
What's the temperature?
In electrical systems, temperature affects resistance. In schools? Same. Is it April during testing season? Is this the third initiative you've launched this semester? Are they dealing with crisis after crisis in their personal life? Hot systems have higher resistance. Trying to push through major change when the temperature is already high isn't leadership—it's asking for a meltdown.
What's the distance?
How far is this change from their current practice? Are you asking them to tweak how they give feedback, or completely reimagine their entire instructional approach? Distance creates resistance. Sometimes the resistance isn't about the destination—it's about how far you're asking them to travel all at once.
When you understand these variables, the resistance stops feeling personal. It becomes predictable. Manageable. Something you can actually work with.
And once you see it clearly, you have choices: reduce the distance (smaller, incremental changes), cool the temperature (better timing, remove something else from their plate first), or increase capacity (more support, more time, actual co-planning instead of another sit-and-get PD).
The Path of Least Resistance
Here's where it gets really interesting.
Electricity always takes the path of least resistance. It's efficient like that. Encounters a high-resistance area? Finds another route. No drama, no forcing, just flow.
Educational leaders? We do the opposite. We identify THE PATH (this protocol! this strategy! this framework!), and when we hit resistance, we push harder. More PD. Stronger accountability. Clearer expectations. As if Maria's going to suddenly see the light because we explained it better in the third training session.
We're essentially trying to force current through a path that's screaming at us it won't work this way.
What if resistance is diagnostic rather than defiant?
Let's say you want teachers to implement student-led problem solving. You roll it out. Most teachers give it a try. But your veteran teachers who've always lectured? High resistance.
The force-it-through approach says: More training on the method. Add it to the walkthrough checklist. "I need to see students leading the discussion by next month."
The find-another-path approach asks: Why is the resistance high here?
Maybe they don't know how to facilitate without controlling every moment. (That's a skill gap.)
Maybe they tried it once, their students floundered, and they concluded "my kids can't do this." (That's a belief system.)
Maybe their pacing guide is so crammed they literally cannot imagine giving up the efficiency of direct instruction. (That's a structural constraint.)
Maybe they've built their entire professional identity around being the expert who delivers brilliant explanations. (That's an identity threat.)
Each of these creates resistance for completely different reasons. The path forward isn't the same for all of them.
For the skill gap: You need a different entry point. Co-plan one lesson. Co-teach it. Debrief what worked. Show them what facilitation actually looks like in real time.
For the belief system: You need proof of concept. Start with their strongest students. Capture video of it working. Help them see it's possible before asking them to believe it's possible with everyone.
For the structural constraint: You need to remove an obstacle. The path might be "let's figure out what you can take off your plate" before adding something new. Maybe the resistance isn't about the strategy—it's about the stack.
For the identity threat: You need to honor what they're good at. "Your deep content knowledge is exactly what will make student-led discussion rich. Let me show you how this amplifies your expertise rather than replaces it."
The resistance isn't the problem. The resistance is information about which path won't work. It's pointing you toward the route that might.
What This Actually Looks Like
So what does this mean on a Tuesday at 2pm when you need to give feedback on a lesson that didn't go well?
Instead of launching into what you saw and what needs to change (high voltage, meet high resistance, prepare for sparks), you might start here:
"I noticed you seemed hesitant when I mentioned trying this approach. Help me understand what's in the way—is it time? Confidence with the strategy? Skepticism that it'll work with your students?"
Not because you're being soft. Because you're being an engineer.
You're diagnosing the resistance so you can figure out what's actually needed. Because here's what you know now: resistance isn't something to overcome. It's data about the system you're working within.
When you're crafting that email and Maria's face pops into your head? Instead of wordsmithing your way around her resistance, you might acknowledge it directly:
"I know we've launched a lot of new things lately. I also know some of you are wondering if this one will stick or if it's just one more thing. Fair question. Here's why this one matters and what support looks like..."
When you're dreading that conversation with Travis? Maybe the dread is telling you something. Maybe his resistance last time was actually him saying "I don't have the skills for this yet" or "I don't see how this fits with everything else you've asked me to do" and what he got back was more pressure instead of a different path.
The Current Flows When...
Leaders who work with resistance don't waste energy fighting it. They:
- Measure it - What's actually causing this? How strong is it? What are the conditions?
- Account for it - Design the change process with this reality in mind, not in spite of it.
- Let it guide the path - Allow resistance to show you what needs to change about your approach, not just what needs to change about the teacher.
Does this mean you never push? Never hold high expectations? Never move forward with something important because a few people resist?
No. It means you stop treating resistance as the enemy and start treating it as essential information.
It means you get strategic about where you're asking people to expend energy, and you design with their actual capacity—not your ideal capacity—in mind.
It means when you hit resistance, your first question isn't "How do I overcome this?" but "What is this telling me?"
Because here's the thing about electricity: it doesn't flow because you want it to or because it should or because you explained very clearly why it needs to. It flows when the conditions allow for it.
Your job isn't to eliminate resistance. It's to understand it well enough to design conditions where change can actually flow.
Resistance might not be fun. But it's physics. And once you start working with it instead of against it, everything gets a lot less exhausting.