Every year, governments and education boards invest vast sums of money and time into teacher training. Workshops are conducted, manuals printed, lectures delivered, certificates distributed. The photos make it look impressive, rows of teachers taking notes, banners that declare “Capacity Building,” and officials applauding the effort.

And yet, step into most classrooms a month later, and little has changed. The blackboard, and now interactive whiteboard, dominates the front wall. The teacher still talks, students still listen. Learning remains largely a one-way street.

The failure is not in the teachers. It’s in the system’s assumption: that training equals transformation. It doesn’t.

We have been operating under a myth, that if we tell teachers what to do differently, they will start doing it. But anyone who has ever tried to change their own habits knows that knowledge doesn’t automatically become behaviour. A person can know everything about fitness and still not exercise. A teacher can sit through twenty workshops and still revert to the same old method the very next day. It's an uphill battle to break a habit.

Most teacher training programs follow a predictable pattern. They are one-off events, heavy on lectures, light on practice. Trainers stand at the front and explain concepts like “child-centred learning,” “activity-based methods,” or “constructivism.” Ironically, the sessions are often conducted in the same rote, top-down manner they are trying to replace.

Teachers listen, take notes, nod politely. Then they return to classrooms full of children, limited resources, rigid syllabuses, and the same expectations to “complete portions.” Under such pressure, they fall back on what’s familiar, chalk, talk, and control.

We can’t fault them for that. Behavioural habits built over decades cannot be replaced by a two-day workshop. What’s missing is not intent, but design.

Teaching is deeply cultural. Most educators were once students in classrooms dominated by lecture and repetition. Those patterns become internalized. When asked to “facilitate” rather than “instruct,” teachers often struggle to imagine what that looks like.

Without consistent demonstration and practice, they revert to old instincts. Even the most enthusiastic teachers, inspired briefly by training, find the momentum fading without reinforcement. It’s like trying to learn swimming by watching a video, you might understand the theory, but you will still sink the first time you try.

Real learning happens through doing, failing, reflecting, and trying again. That’s as true for teachers as it is for students.

Another silent flaw in traditional training lies in tone. Many programs are designed as top-down interventions, someone arrives to “improve” teachers. This undermines dignity. It assumes deficiency instead of potential.

Teachers frequently go because they are required to, not because they want to learn. Genuine engagement is lost when participation is forced. People resist being “fixed.” They respond to being trusted.

Behavioural change thrives on ownership, not obligation. It begins when teachers feel valued, not evaluated.

If we truly want transformation, we must stop teaching teachers and start changing behaviours. That shift requires rethinking both purpose and process.

Behaviour change is not about telling teachers what to do, it’s about helping them want to do it. It begins modestly, with noticeable, doable changes. For example, asking open-ended questions rather than prescribing answers, asking students to discuss answers before responding, or pairing them up for peer learning.

These might not seem like much, but the change becomes self-reinforcing once a teacher feels the energy of a classroom where kids teach and learn from one another.You don’t need to persuade them anymore. The success persuades them.

Transformation doesn’t come from theory; it comes from evidence of improvement they can feel, see, and celebrate.

The ALfA Example

This is precisely what happens in classrooms following the ALfA (Accelerating Learning for All) approach.

Teachers aren’t overloaded with abstract pedagogy. Simple, structured peer-learning techniques are presented to them, in which kids work in pairs, alternate explaining, and gain knowledge by imparting knowledge. Teachers see once-passive kids become active, talkative, and self-assured in a matter of days.

This instant feedback has great power. It increases belief because people see it working, not because someone said it does. Once that belief is internalized, behaviour change follows naturally.

ALfA’s genius lies not only in the method but in its design for change, iterative, visible, and dignifying. Teachers become co-learners in a process that validates their effort, not just their output.

No one sustains change in isolation. A teacher trying something new often feels vulnerable, students may react unpredictably, results may fluctuate. Without support, the easiest path is to retreat to the familiar.

This is why professional communities matter. When teachers discuss, reflect, and learn from each other, change becomes contagious. Behaviour spreads socially. One teacher’s success becomes another’s motivation.

Schools that encourage peer support and observation are the ones where transformation sticks. Teachers don’t need constant monitoring; they need community and confidence.

We love metrics, number of teachers trained, hours delivered, modules covered. But these numbers measure effort, not effect.

What if we measured something different:

• How many classrooms look and feel different after training?
• How many teachers are experimenting, collaborating, and reflecting on practice?
• How many children are asking questions, instead of memorizing answers?

That’s the real measure of professional development, not the certificates on a wall, but the spark in a classroom.

Ultimately, behaviour change is not just a strategy, it’s a philosophy of respect. It recognizes that teachers, like students, need to experience agency, purpose, and success.

The goal is not to produce compliant teachers who follow scripts. It is to nurture reflective practitioners who keep evolving. When teachers rediscover curiosity, children do too. When teachers feel trusted to innovate, classrooms become laboratories of learning rather than halls of routine.

We keep saying education reform begins with teachers. It’s time to act like we mean it. That means moving beyond workshops to real behavioural support, ongoing, humane, and rooted in trust.

Training gives teachers information. Behaviour change gives them transformation.

And transformation, not instruction, is what schools, systems, and societies need most.