When I Say "Jump," You Say, "But Why?"

Hello,

I’ve worked my entire career in education, so I can’t say for sure whether what I’m about to describe applies to every profession. But I know this much: in education, people love tradition — and yet the system itself is always changing. Devices replace paper tests. Classroom routines evolve — from how we take attendance to how we facilitate discussions. What students are interested in changes, and so do the ways we communicate with families.

You get the point.

Years ago, when New York State dropped the Common Core Learning Standards and adopted the Next Generation Standards, I stood in front of my teachers and said, “Good news! The name has changed. For all intents and purposes, the standards haven’t.” The sigh of relief was palpable. Because there’s only one thing many educators dislike more than change: More change.

And now…more change is here. “New York Inspires” is shifting graduation requirements to look at the whole child, including focusing on attributes of NYS graduates and new pathways for demonstrating competency. It’s a big philosophical shift, and at a recent conference about this work, the presenter was absolutely buzzing with excitement. He saw these changes as unquestionably right and long overdue. He couldn’t fathom why anyone wouldn’t be ecstatic. I'm talking ticker-tape parade energy. Statue-building energy. Trumpets were heralding in his ears. Unfortunately, this light glowing from this change was so blinding that he couldn’t reconcile why others might hesitate. I wished his energy was contagious, but those who are truly comfortable with change tend to be the exception, not the rule—especially when the change feels required rather than optional.

The Ants and the Fleas

So I asked him if he’d ever seen the videos.

• Ants placed on a sheet of paper with a circle drawn around them won’t cross the line. The barrier is imaginary, but they behave as if it’s real.

• Fleas in a sealed jar learn how high they can’t jump. Remove the lid, and they continue to jump only to the old limit — even though the ceiling is gone.

In both cases, the organism successfully adapted to limitations, which means the limitation became their new normal. That’s the part people underestimate. We talk about change as if adaptation is a single event. It’s not. 

Adaptation is work. It’s draining. So when people have already adapted to one constraint — one test, one structure, one system, one way of doing school — and then they’re told to adapt again, of course we see hesitation, suspicion, fear, or fatigue.

They aren’t resisting because they’re stubborn.

Remove the lid, erase the circle, announce the new opportunity, it doesn’t matter. If the nervous system doesn’t believe it’s safe to jump higher or wander outside the line, people will stay where they are. Not because they can’t change, but because they’ve been conditioned to behave in ways that contradict the new behavior.

Leadership Isn’t Announcing Opportunity — It’s Creating Safety

The energized presenter's message was more or less, “The limits are gone! This is wonderful! Jump higher!” This is great news! However, as leaders, we need to remember that in addition to telling people about the pros of the change, we need to create the conditions in which people feel safe enough to try.

Opportunity without emotional support is like removing the lid without helping the fleas rebuild their jumping muscles — the potential is there, but the readiness is not.

If we want ants to cross imaginary lines and fleas to jump beyond old ceilings, we have to remove the barrier and remove the fear.

The Rider, The Elephant, and The Path

Which brings me to the Heath brothers. Dan and Chip Heath's book Switch use a brilliant framework:

• The Rider = the logical brain

• The Elephant = the emotional brain

• The Path = the environment or conditions

Change fails when we address only one of the three. For example, change will be difficult if we hand the Rider a memo, a PowerPoint, a data chart, or a new policy and then say, “Go!” Another challenge occurs when we appeal only to the Elephant — offering motivation, inspiration, or emotional appeals — but provide no clarity or structure for what to actually do next. Likewise, if we focus exclusively on the Path by reorganizing systems or rearranging procedures without motivating people or giving clear direction, the effort stalls. All three must work together to yield meaningful, lasting change.

Here’s the truth:

• If the Elephant is tired, fearful, or skeptical, it won’t move.

• If the Path is cluttered with obstacles, the path isn't clear and there is no movement.

• If the Rider lacks direction, they don't know where to go so they go nowhere.

To make change easier, safer, and possible:

1. Direct the Rider – Be clear, simple, and concrete. No 87-step plan. No jargon.

2. Motivate the Elephant – Acknowledge fears, honor exhaustion, and build emotional safety.

3. Shape the Path – Remove friction. Make the new way the easy way, not the heroic way.

Do that, and the fleas will jump higher...not because they’re forced to, but because they want to.

Final Thought

Adaptation is not the enemy of change. Exhaustion stalls the Elephant. Confusion stalls the Rider. Obstacles stall the Path.

If we want people to embrace something new, we must stop pretending the barrier is only structural. It’s also psychological. Before asking people to leap, leaders must earn their trust.

Remove the lid. Show the sky is real. Make the path safe. Then watch how high people can go.

~Heather

P.S. This week, I’m catching fleas and ants, two tiny creatures with big lessons about boundaries. In one video, fleas trained under a glass lid learn to jump only so high, even after the lid is gone. In another, ants stay within the invisible circle drawn around them, never venturing beyond it.

Both remind us how easily we adapt to limitations, sometimes long after they’ve disappeared. Whether in classrooms, teams, or leadership, invisible boundaries can keep us from exploring what’s possible. Growth begins when we notice where we’ve stopped jumping or walking and decide to push past it.

It’s time to lift the lid, cross the line, and rediscover our capacity for change.

P.P.S. Please remember to...

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