On Micromanagement and Accountability in Education
There’s a word I hear often these days: micromanagement. A direct report, when confronted with concerns about curriculum alignment or departmental cohesion, retorts with, “Oh, so we’re being micromanaged now?” It’s an interesting claim, but it made me question: What does management look like in education, and when does it become micromanagement?
To some extent, as her manager, I am tasked with overseeing the department. It’s my responsibility, alongside hers, to ensure that students are learning and growing in a structured environment. But I wanted to dig deeper into what she meant, so I asked her to elaborate. She expressed frustration that teachers were expected to maintain consistency, that there was a push for alignment among those teaching the same grade level and subject. The expectation that milestones should be met at certain times, or that assessments should be synchronized, felt to her like an encroachment—a form of control she viewed as unnecessary.
"Not micromanaging—just giving every detail the VIP treatment!"
“This prompted me to ask: What exactly is the line between management and micromanagement?”
Am I to sit back and allow a department to drift in divergent directions, where students in different classrooms, learning the same subject at the same grade level, are taught radically different content, with no cohesion in approach or expectations? Can we afford that, particularly in urban schools, where the stakes are higher and the gaps more glaring?
“Peter McLaren speaks of education as a political act, where power and knowledge intertwine, determining who gets to learn and how.”
Michael Apple similarly highlights that schools are sites of both production and reproduction—places where dominant ideologies are reinforced, but also where they can be challenged.
If we, as educators, aren’t intentional about what we teach, when we teach it, and how we assess student growth, then who are we really serving?
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If we, as educators, aren’t intentional about what we teach, when we teach it, and how we assess student growth, then who are we really serving? 〰️
There’s a philosophy among some teachers that their sole duty is to disseminate knowledge—that they are merely vessels for information, and that whether or not students absorb or understand that information is not their concern. In this view, low test scores, poor comprehension, and disengagement are placed squarely on the students or the communities from which they come. The teacher, in this framework, bears no responsibility. But is that not a form of abdicating responsibility? Is that not, as McLaren would put it, a reinforcement of inequitable power structures, where the most marginalized are blamed for their own marginalization?
If we as instructional leaders aren’t holding our departments accountable, if we aren’t ensuring that there’s a bridge between what’s being taught and what’s being learned, are we not failing the very students we claim to serve?
“Accountability isn’t about control for control’s sake—it’s about ensuring that learning happens, that there is a connection between the effort of the teacher and the outcomes of the student.”
I understand the concerns about micromanagement. In any profession, there’s a delicate balance between oversight and autonomy. But in education, where so much is at stake, what role does micromanagement play, and where does it fit in the larger discussion of equity and responsibility? Can we truly afford to let classrooms become silos, each operating on its own terms, when the students in those classrooms are held to the same standards at the end of the day?
As leaders and teachers, what is our collective responsibility to ensure that the students in our care aren’t just taught, but are learning? How do we find common ground in a system that too often allows for disparities in educational outcomes, particularly in urban schools? What does it mean to ensure that we’re all on the same page, not just in content, but in our expectations for what it takes to truly teach?
“These are questions we must continue to ask, because at the end of the day, we aren’t just managing people—we’re shaping futures. And there is no room for ambiguity in that mission.”
Endnote: When Micromanagement Finds Its Place
Micromanagement often conjures images of unnecessary control, of trust betrayed. Yet, in certain moments, I’ve found teachers breathe easier, even welcome the weight of closer oversight. It’s a delicate balance we seek in education—one where the guiding hand does not stifle but supports, where oversight is neither a burden nor a bind.
Educational leadership is about finding that balance. Yes, student learning must remain at the forefront of all we do. But it is equally crucial that the instructional staff—those who bear the daily weight of educating—are treated with the respect they deserve. Their expertise, honed through years of experience, must be acknowledged. There must be room for innovation, for creativity, for them to breathe life into the curriculum in ways that reflect their unique voices and perspectives.
I remain committed to the idea that we are all, in some way, unfinished. We are constantly growing, learning, reshaping ourselves and our work. Synergy is what we seek—spaces where teachers can be as creative as they dare, and where we ensure, with equal fervor, that their efforts result in real, measurable growth for our students.
Education, after all, is a collective endeavor. Every stakeholder—from the teachers in the classrooms to the administrators overseeing them—must be dedicated to continuous growth. There is no ceiling to this work. We all have something to learn. We all have steps to take, no matter where we stand, to do better for our students, to reach further toward excellence, to embrace the idea that we can always, always strive to be more.
