One Size Fits None: Why So Many Initiatives Fail
At the start of the 2024–25 school year, I reposted a meme on my Juniper Consulting LLC TikTok account that took off unexpectedly. It was simple:
“Teachers don’t enjoy meetings where we have to walk around and write on chart paper. I just needed to say that before next week.”
I posted it because it made me laugh—after years as a teacher and instructional coach, I knew how true it was. We love collaboration, but sometimes PD feels like an overdone routine.
To my surprise, the post struck a nerve. The comments section exploded with passionate responses from teachers who felt seen and heard. That led to a follow-up carousel: “What would teachers say about PD if anyone actually asked us?” From there, I created another—this time featuring support staff.
The responses were honest, sometimes funny, often frustrated—but always insightful:
“Give me a handbook, all the important dates and info, and let me get to work.”
“If you’re just going to read from slides, email them to me.”
“Why am I in a math PD? I teach music.”
“We are professionals. We don’t need games—we need time.”
“My biggest wish for PD is that it was as individualized as our lessons are expected to be.”
That last one stopped me in my tracks—because it’s true. We expect teachers to differentiate instruction for students every single day, yet we rarely offer them the same courtesy when it comes to their own learning. If we believe in differentiated instruction for students, shouldn’t we offer differentiated professional development for teachers too?
So Why Doesn’t PD Translate Into Classroom Practice?
And more to the point—if it consistently fails, why are we still doing it the same way?
I can only speak from my own experience, but I suspect many others in education can relate. Most of us who lead PD or roll out initiatives were never trained to do it. We were strong classroom teachers who were tapped to share what we were doing with others. Many school administrators aren’t trained in how to do it either.
And what do we do? We teach adults the same way we taught students—because that’s what we know. And honestly, because it worked for students.
But adults aren’t just older students. They bring their own expertise, motivations, and needs to the table. And I didn’t know how to account for that. I had never been trained in adult learning theory, instructional design, or how to design effective learning experiences for adults.
Once I started digging into the research, it all started to click. I learned what adult learning theory actually was—the idea that adults learn best when the learning is relevant, problem-centered, self-directed, and tied to their internal goals and motivations. I studied instructional design frameworks and explored how tools like Agile and Waterfall project management could be applied to school-wide initiatives. Because here’s the reality: you can’t just roll out a 2-hour PD, tell teachers what to do, and expect it to stick. You need a plan for ongoing support, iteration, and follow-through.
Learning the Hard Way
During the last few years I worked in public education I led three separate Professional Learning Community (PLC) implementation efforts. The first two? Flops. The third? A breakthrough. That success reshaped everything I thought I knew about sustainable change.
At first, I blamed the failures on lack of time or training. But eventually, I realized we were asking the wrong questions. We were designing PD for teachers, not with them. The breakthrough came when we invited teachers to co-create the process. That shift—from compliance to ownership—changed everything.
I started applying what I’d learned about adult learning theory, project management, and instructional design frameworks. These insights became the foundation for VOYAGE Horizons, a framework I developed to help school leaders design PLC initiatives that stick. Not by launching PLCs from the top down, but by shifting the conditions—centering teacher voice and building systems that support the real work happening in classrooms.
Then Came the Next Level
One of the things I appreciate most about working at this particular startup is that innovation isn’t just encouraged—it’s expected. Ideas that might have once felt too ambitious in other settings, like creating differentiated learning paths for teachers, support staff, and administrators, are seen here as not just possible, but essential to educator success.
So I started building personalized PD tracks, confident that this time I was finally getting it right.
But then, during a collaboration with a colleague while troubleshooting a roadblock I was experiencing, they said something that made me pause: “Teachers don’t adopt something new unless it helps them do the job they’re already trying to do.”
That moment shifted everything.
They shared a paper with me—The Teacher’s Quest for Progress by Thomas Arnett, Bob Moesta, and Michael B. Horn—which introduced me to the Jobs to Be Done (JTBD) framework. It told the story of a builder trying to sell condos to retirees. People said they wanted modern kitchens, open layouts, big bedrooms—but no one was buying. Why? Because no one knew what to do with the dining room table—the one that held a lifetime of memories.
The lesson: It wasn’t about features. It was about progress. About meaning. About identity.
That story flipped everything for me.
Why Personalized PD Still Misses the Mark
Up to that point, I had been equating “personalized PD” with offering different sessions based on role, experience, or content area. It was a step forward—but it was still top-down. It assumed we knew what teachers needed, instead of asking what kind of progress they were trying to make.
The Jobs to Be Done framework flipped that perspective. It focused not on who the teacher is, but why they engage with PD at all. The researchers outlined four core “jobs” teachers are trying to accomplish when they decide to try a new instructional strategy or tool:
Help me lead the way in improving my school.
Help me engage and challenge more of my students in a way that’s manageable.
Help me replace a broken instructional model so I can reach each student.
Help me to not fall behind on my school’s new initiative.
Reading that list, I could picture every teacher I’d ever coached. Their faces. Their frustrations. Their reasons for showing up—or not. This wasn’t abstract theory. It was real.
Designing PD That Meets the Right Job
This week, I’ve found myself coming back to that paper—the Teacher’s Quest for Progress—and thinking about how to apply it to the PD roadmap I’m currently developing. I don’t have it all figured out yet, but it’s already reshaping my thinking.
The roadmap is shifting to include more upfront discovery—actually asking teachers what kind of progress they’re trying to make. It’s leading me to rethink how we group training—not just by role, but by motivation. And it’s reminding me that the “how” of PD has to be just as thoughtful as the “what.”
Here’s where I’m landing for now:
For teachers who want to lead change: Invite them into co-design. Give them meaningful ownership, not just tasks.
For teachers juggling too much: Prioritize practical strategies that save time, streamline their day, and reduce decision fatigue.
For teachers on the edge of burnout: Build in psychological safety. Give them room to experiment without pressure to get it perfect right away.
For teachers just trying to keep up: Focus on clarity, early wins, and momentum over perfection.
Because professional development that works doesn’t start with titles, roles, or even tools—it starts with relevance. And relevance begins when we understand the job a teacher is actually trying to get done.
The Real Problem? Top-Down Change
Most initiatives don’t fail because they’re bad ideas. They fail because they’re designed in isolation from the people expected to implement them.
We mandate instead of motivate. We focus on rollout instead of relationships. And then we wonder why nothing sticks.
If we want meaningful change in schools, we need to stop designing for compliance and start designing for progress.
Final Thoughts
When I look back, I realize VOYAGE Horizons didn’t emerge from a textbook or a flawless rollout. It came from missteps, learning curves, and one meaningful success that proved sustainable change is possible—but only when it centers the people doing the work.
This week the more I engage with the framework Jobs to Be Done, the more I see how much of what we call “resistance” in education is really just misalignment. Teachers aren’t disengaged because they don’t care. They disengage when what’s being asked of them doesn’t connect to the progress they’re trying to make.
And that’s where most PD—and most initiatives—fall apart. We design around what we want teachers to do, instead of asking what they need in order to grow. We focus on rollout instead of relevance. We prioritize structure over purpose.
But when we take the time to ask, listen, and design for progress—not compliance—we create something different. Something better. Something that actually moves the needle.
So if we’re serious about building schools where students thrive, we have to start by building systems where teachers can thrive too.
Because one-size-fits-all never worked for students.
And it’s never going to work for teachers.
