The Courage to Change (and Why It’s So Hard)

Change. It’s one of those words that triggers a collective groan, like “team-building exercise” or “review meeting.” Nobody really likes it. We are, by nature, creatures of habit – like Velcro to the familiar in ways we barely notice.

From the morning ritual of hitting snooze to the sacred sequence of tea-making (milk last, obviously), our lives are scaffolded by patterns that bring safety. Routines are our invisible handrails - they make the world feel predictable. So when someone asks us to swap those handrails for something new? Expect resistance.

It’s not laziness. It’s neuroscience.

The story of the Mann Gulch disaster, where 16 smokejumpers were caught in a wildfire that turned without warning, is one of the most sobering lessons in the psychology of habit. Many of those who perished were found still clutching their tools. Years of training told them never to abandon their equipment. Even as the flames raced toward them, they couldn’t drop what had once defined their safety. Their discipline, the very habit that had made them professionals, became their undoing.

Now, our classrooms aren’t on fire (most days, at least), but the principle still stands. Old habits die hard - especially the ones that once worked.

Ask any teacher or tutor to rethink a well-worn response - the tone of voice, the phrasing of a sanction, the instinct to “get control” - and you’ll meet a familiar kind of pushback. Not defiance, but certainly discomfort. After all, these responses have been practised for decades, passed down like old recipes that fix behaviour. And change, even when necessary, feels like painting over a portrait that’s hung on the wall your whole career. Everyone else might be embracing your choice of new colours, but you can’t quite let go of that 2003 shade of “it never hurt me” or “snowflake”. 

Here’s the twist though: those are exactly the people you need in the room.

The staff who challenge every slide, question every principle, and cling to every “we’ve always done it this way” are not barriers - they’re mirrors. They force you to really understand the work, not just present it. They slow the process down, yes, but in the best way. They make you refine your language, clarify your reasoning, and live your values instead of performing them.

Culture change is not a revolution; it’s erosion - slow, deliberate, and powerful. The awkward conversations, the eye rolls, the hesitant and awkward first attempts…that’s where the work is happening. The staff who resist are often that feel like they’re holding the history of a school or college in their hands. Yet, when they move, even slightly, the whole landscape shifts with them. 

So next time you hear, “I’ve been doing this for 25 years,” take a breath. That’s not defiance - it’s identity. And identity takes time to reshape.

Your quickest converts will adapt easily. They’ll run with the ideas, test them, refine them, and probably make them better. But your resistors? They’ll make sure the change has roots. They’ll make sure it lasts. Change doesn’t demand perfection; it demands patience. It’s not about breaking people down but bringing them along.

In the end, culture isn’t changed by the people who agree with you. It’s changed by the people who used to argue - but now, finally, lean in and say, “Alright, show me. Let’s give this a go.” That’s when you know it’s working. That’s when no one is left behind.