The Silent Killer of Strategy
How Daily Misalignment Makes Your Vision Irrelevant.
I was recently reading Chiara Marletto’s fascinating book, The Science of Can and Can’t, which delves into the deep connections between information theory and the laws of thermodynamics. It got me thinking about one of the most fundamental and often misunderstood principles in science: the second law of thermodynamics, and its concept of entropy.
If you’ve taken a high school chemistry class, you probably encountered a simplified version of this law: the idea that the universe tends to move from a state of order to one of disorder. While that everyday phrasing isn't perfectly precise, the core insight is powerful. There are processes in our physical world that are irreversible. Think about cooking an egg. Heat flows from the stove to the pan and into the egg, transforming it. There is no physical process that will spontaneously pull that heat back out of the egg and return it to the stove, leaving you with your original, uncooked egg. The change is permanent; the energy has been dispersed in a way that can't be easily gathered back up.
Now, I'm not suggesting that a school is a closed thermodynamic system or that human behavior can be mapped directly onto physical laws. But as I considered this idea of irreversible processes, I couldn’t help but see a powerful metaphor for the work we do as leaders. Every day, our schools are teeming with energy. Every single person—from the student wrestling with a new concept to the teacher designing a lesson, from the administrator managing budgets to the parent advocating for their child—shows up and expends energy. They take action. And every action creates change.
This energy can be broadly thought of in two ways. Some of it is like mechanical work; it’s productive and moves the organization forward. It builds a new program, fosters a student’s understanding, or strengthens a community bond. However, some of the energy is more akin to heat; it dissipates, contributing to the ambient chaos, and results in changes that can be difficult, if not impossible, to reverse.
The crucial difference lies in alignment. In any school, individuals are driven by a complex web of motivations. Some are innovating, others are preserving. Some are driven by a deep passion for student learning, while others may be acting out of fear or a need for self-preservation. All are valid human experiences, but when these actions are uncoordinated—when they pull in different directions—the result is disorder. This isn't just a neutral state; it's a costly one. Misalignment requires a tremendous amount of new energy just to course-correct. For changes that are reversible, we have to expend effort to get back on track. For changes that are irreversible, the cost is even greater. We must expend the energy to rebuild, to create something new from a place of fracture. In either case, the initial energy was wasted, and now more must be spent on recovery.
This is where the power of alignment becomes so clear. When people are moving in the same general direction, their daily actions and individual expenditures of energy become cumulative and productive. A 1% improvement or change each day, when aligned, compounds into profound and sustainable progress over the course of a school year. The energy is used for forward momentum, not for internal friction or repair.
This brings us to the core work of leadership: cultivating alignment. This is an incredibly energy-intensive process. It requires the leader to be a storyteller, weaving together the institution's past, present, and future into a coherent narrative that resonates with every stakeholder. It requires deep listening, sense-making, and a willingness to adapt. A leader cannot simply decree a vision from on high and expect alignment to follow. That approach often breeds resentment, causing people to expend their energy on rebellion rather than progress.
The goal isn’t to force everyone onto the exact same path. True alignment is more nuanced; it's about getting everyone heading in the same direction. For example, the Universal Design for Learning (UDL) framework can serve as a path for a teacher focused on supporting struggling learners, while also serving a teacher committed to creating a high-powered, academically rigorous environment. The paths may feel different, but the direction—excellent teaching and deeper learning for all students—is the same.
As a leader, you only have a finite amount of energy. If you enter a space rife with misalignment, you must make strategic decisions. How much energy can you afford to spend, and how quickly? What changes are possible with the resources at your disposal? Pushing for change beyond your capacity or the organization's readiness leads to one place: burnout.
This is why we must become profoundly aware of our own presence. Our presence is the vehicle through which we expend energy and create change. Every conversation, every meeting, every quiet moment of thought is an act of presence. It acts on the space around us, and the space, in turn, acts on us. Is our presence creating clarity or confusion? Is it building alignment or fostering division? At the same time, is the environment energizing us or draining us?
Guarding our presence is not selfish; it is essential. It means setting boundaries. It means being mindful of where we place our attention, not dwelling in the regrets of the past or the anxieties of the future, but grounding ourselves in the power of the present moment. When we leave work, we must be able to truly leave, allowing our minds to be present with our families, our friends, and ourselves.
Ultimately, leadership is a practice of honoring energy, both our own and that of others. We honor it by being thoughtful and honest, by creating spaces that nurture the presence of every individual, and by dedicating our own precious energy to the most vital task we have: building the alignment that enables our communities to move forward, together.
The High Cost of Misalignment
Every day, stakeholders—from students and teachers to administrators, board members, alumni, and parents—bring their own energies and motivations into the space. Each person’s presence and actions create change.
But not all actions are created equal. Some are purposeful, moving things forward. Others add heat and chaos—wasted energy expended without productive alignment. When everyone acts independently, even with good intentions, their actions can conflict. Misalignment emerges, often subtly, a fraction each day. Like a debt that charges interest, these small divergences compound over time, creating significant problems that cost even more energy to resolve.
So, how do we apply this thermodynamic lens to the daily work of leadership? It starts by identifying where to strategically invest our finite energy before problems arise. The most effective leaders learn to read the landscape and proactively expend energy where it will prevent the most chaos. Here are three critical areas that demand this upfront investment.
1. Account for Structural Complexity
The first landscape to assess is the sheer complexity of your organization’s structure. A single team of 10 can maintain alignment with relatively low energy expenditure on communication. But what about an organization of 10 teams of 10? The complexity isn't just 10 times greater; it's exponentially so.
As the number of teams, people, and projects increases, the energy required for effective communication also increases significantly. If you don't invest that energy proactively, it will be forcibly extracted from you reactively. When communication is unclear, teams working on overlapping projects can fall out of sync. A vacuum forms, which individuals will quickly fill with their own narratives and assumptions. The result is confusion and chaos.
A leader’s energy is wisely spent building and maintaining clear, efficient channels of communication before they are desperately needed. Investing in these systems upfront saves an immense amount of energy that would otherwise be spent stamping out fires, correcting misinformation, and attempting to repair the damage caused by competing narratives. The more complex the organization, the greater the upfront energy investment in communication must be.
2. Map the Socio-Political Landscape
Beyond the org chart lies a more intricate landscape of emotions, relationships, and identity. If this terrain is fraught with complexity—unresolved conflicts, lack of trust, fear—it will constantly drain energy from your system.
This landscape has two key features: the emotional and the identical. The emotional involves how people feel about each other, about the institution, about change. When people experience frustration or fear, they may act from subconscious motivations that are misaligned with the reality of a situation. The leader must expend energy paying special attention to these areas, not with a magnifying glass of judgment, but with a focus on healing and building trust.
More complex still is the landscape of professional identity. In schools, people’s status and value can become tied to the stories they tell about themselves: the “master teacher,” the “respected program builder,” the “innovator.” When a long-standing curriculum or program they developed is threatened by change, it can feel like a direct assault on their identity.
The only way to navigate this is to shift the basis of institutional value from reputation and narrative to impact and growth. A leader must invest massive energy in building systems of transparency, accountability, and a supportive, growth-based culture. We all know the difference between a teacher with 20 years of experience and one with one year of experience repeated 20 times. A healthy culture, with clear and supportive growth plans, allows everyone to see and measure their real impact.
When people know their value is tied to their ongoing growth—and that the institution will invest in them when they need support—they are less likely to defensively cling to past glories. This focus on growth, trust, and transparent impact is a costly, upfront energy investment, but it is the only way to avoid the chaotic and draining ego battles that are sure to emerge later.
(A quick but important clarification: I am speaking here of professional or institutional identity, not the systemic issues of bias related to demographic identity, which is a separate and critical challenge all schools must address.)
3. Balance Tradition with Innovation
Finally, a leader must manage the central paradox of every successful school: honoring its soul while preparing it for the future. You must expend energy in two seemingly opposite directions at once.
First, you must constantly tell the story of the institution, recommitting to its core values, its history, and its heart. This is the school’s identity—whether it’s a high-powered academic incubator or a creative, arts-focused haven. If you neglect this and focus only on innovation, you will create deep wounds as people feel the school has lost its soul. The energy required to heal that schism is enormous.
Simultaneously, you must create an ecosystem of innovation, vulnerability, and risk-taking. If you focus solely on history and tradition, the school will stagnate, lose its competitive edge, and become irrelevant. The energy required to play catch-up after years of stagnation is a desperate, uphill battle.
The leader’s work is to make a conscious, intentional, and sustained energy investment in both honoring tradition and driving innovation. Neglecting either side creates an energy debt that will eventually come due, with punishing interest.
Putting This Into Practice: Final Thoughts
As leaders, we must be thoughtful guardians of presence and energy. Our role is to read the structural, social, and cultural landscapes of our schools and make wise, proactive investments. By channeling our energy into effective communication, trust, and striking a delicate balance between the past and the future, we can guide our institutions steadily forward, fostering growth and avoiding the costly spiral of chaos.
Where in our school might we be experiencing 'energy waste' from misalignment?
When do I feel most drained? When do I feel most energized?
How can I better balance my energy between honoring our history and driving necessary innovation?