How did teacher evaluation become a thing?

Editor’s note: This was first published on the author’s Substack, The Education Daly.

Are teachers interchangeable parts?

In 2006, I was the newly minted Vice President for Policy and Research at TNTP and I was twenty-nine years old and obviously I knew everything, so that was nice.

TNTP had written a couple of reports about why urban school districts had so much trouble staffing high poverty schools with good teachers.[1] In addition to the standard issues like low pay and high stress, we found that schools were often burdened with ineffective teachers who were transferred from other schools.

If these teachers were bad, why weren’t they fired?

There were two competing explanations. The first—favored by teachers unions—put the blame on administrators. They were too lazy or inept to provide teachers the feedback and support that were prerequisite for seeking dismissal, and their documentation was so sloppy that it couldn’t survive the scrutiny of an honest arbitrator. The second—favored by school officials—was that the burden of proof to dismiss a tenured teacher was impossible to meet. A principal could follow every step perfectly for years, spending untold hours, only to have a hearing officer rule that a teacher’s shortcomings were not worthy of dismissal. Back to square one.

This argument was important. Neither group denied that schools had some teachers who were not good. No one could agree what to do about it. Districts were under pressure, during the height of NCLB accountability, to improve. These teachers made it harder.

My colleagues and I decided to launch a multi-year research project to get to the bottom of it. Our grand ambition was to study twelve districts across four states. We invited everyone to the table—district leaders, unions, policy organizations—and formed an advisory panel totaling eighty people. There were large districts, like Chicago and Denver, and smaller ones, like Springdale (AR) and Rockford (IL). We hoped that by getting all parties in the same room, looking at the same data, we could move past stalemate.

In June 2009, we published our findings as The Widget Effect.[2] Our conclusion? It didn’t matter whether the process for dismissing ineffective teachers was easy or impossible because it hardly ever started. Virtually zero teachers were assigned low ratings on official evaluations. Instead, almost all of them received the highest option available. These evaluations—which occurred less than annually for some teachers—were superficial box-checking observations that principals found burdensome and teachers found useless.

Our schools were unable to distinguish good teaching from bad. That’s why we used the term “widget.” Despite all the rhetoric about teachers being earthly saints, on a functional level they were treated as interchangeable. With that approach, how could systems possibly help teachers get better? Or help students learn more?

Time for a post-mortem

In this multi-part series, we’ll unpack how The Widget Effect, among many other factors, made teacher evaluation one of the hottest topics in education.[3] I’ll be using the first person more often than usual because I was an active participant in the whole shebang. When I refer to those who pushing for evaluation reforms, that’s me.

I have a lot of regrets.

My goal is to excavate the history of the movement with the benefit of a little hindsight. This post-mortem comes on the heels of my attempt, a few months ago, to explain our brief but intense obsession with Finland’s schools. At the time, I promised to give the same treatment to some topics nearer to my own heart.

Like Finland-mania, the timeline here is relatively short. After bursting onto the scene around 2009, evaluation reform more or less ran its course by 2015, when Congress passed a new law to replace NCLB that did not require districts to do anything with teacher evaluation. No one was surprised. The wave had rolled back.

Let’s begin by stating the obvious: The movement to reform teacher evaluation did not achieve its goals. Teachers continue to receive superlative evaluation ratings. Those ratings are based almost entirely on perfunctory classroom observations conducted by administrators, just as was the case in 2006. Teachers are almost never fired for poor evaluations, and they rarely receive higher pay or recognition for good ones. Nearly every teacher who is considered for tenure is granted it.

To many, the teacher evaluation crusade is a cautionary tale—maybe the ultimate one—of hubristic confidence in a fad.

It’s all of that. And also more. It’s a window into how our schools truly operate and a great way to understand why we’ve stopped making academic progress in the last decade—and why our recovery from Covid-era learning loss is going so poorly.

Today, we’ll set the stage by understanding the elements that converged around 2009 to set the whole thing aflame. In future posts, I’ll cover what happened, how it went wrong, and what we learned.

Buckle up, friends. There’s a lot to digest.

Where did evaluation reform start?

• It became clear that traditional measures of teacher value were inaccurate. There were two ways to move up (and earn more) in teaching: 1) accumulate more years of seniority and 2) Obtain a master’s degree. By the early 2000s, research had shown that assuming a given teacher would be better at their job due to either of these traits was comically wrong. On average, teachers improve for the first few years of their careers, but they level off relatively quickly. Some teachers with ten years in the classroom are amazing...and some of them are awful. Same is true of master’s degrees. They are easy to earn and most teachers pursue them—because they come with a pay bump. But teachers who have advanced degrees aren’t any better instructionally than peers without them—and might be worse.


• Some teachers are much more effective than others. We always knew this. Every third grader knows this. But as an empirical research fact, it become inescapable as annual testing of students became more common. Researchers cranked out a wave of studies showing that, even when controlling for baseline student traits and achievement, some teachers consistently moved their students further each year. They added more learning value. But not only were they not being recognized for it, they weren’t told that their outcomes were exceptional. Nobody noticed.[4]


• Charter schools put heat on districts. In the early 2000s, networks like KIPP, Aspire, North Star, YES Prep. and Achievement First posted exceptional results with teachers who were non-unionized twenty-somethings willing to work long hours for school leaders who could dismiss them at will. These schools had flexibility to innovate and a passionate, mission-driven spirit. Folks started to wonder if districts needed to borrow a page from the charter playbook and give their principals more autonomy to select and re-shape their teams.

Crossover to the mainstream

• Big city superintendents began challenging employee unions. Many of them came from non-traditional backgrounds. Joel Klein had been prosecuting Microsoft for antitrust violations prior to being named Chancellor in New York City. Michael Bennet—now a U.S. Senator from Colorado—was a business lawyer and chief of staff to Denver’s mayor before running its school system. Michelle Rhee, the most famous of them all, was leading the relatively small non-profit that I worked for when, at thirty-seven, she took over D.C. Public Schools. They viewed large districts as broadly dysfunctional and shared a willingness to address third-rail issues that were generally career killers for traditional superintendents. Firing low-performing teachers was on that list.


• Philanthropy wrote big checks. A week after Obama’s historic election victory in November 2008, the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation convened a who’s-who of education players in Seattle to announce a shift in strategy. Bill Gates was disappointed in the lackluster results from his efforts to convert large schools into smaller, more personal configurations. Going forward, he would turn his attention where he believed the research was pointing: higher academic standards for students and more effective teachers. Over the next few years, the foundation poured hundreds of millions into grants for districts that promised to reform their evaluation systems, as well as research to test new methods of measuring teaching.


• Major press outlets took notice. In August 2009, The New Yorker ran a long feature by Steven Brill about so-called “rubber rooms” where the city warehoused approximately 600 teachers awaiting disposition of their cases for misconduct or incompetence. They had been collecting full salaries and benefits for an average of three years. Readers were aghast at some of the stories. Rubber room became an all-purpose term for teachers who should have been dismissed but were not.


• The federal government dangled a carrot. In 2008, the real estate market imploded and the economy teetered on the brink of insolvency. Congress quickly passed a rescue package along bipartisan lines. Tucked inside was significant funding to incent innovation in schools. While these funds were approved at the end of George W. Bush’s second term, they were administered by President Obama. As states competed for their share of the loot, they committed to overhaul their outdated drive-by evaluations with multi-measure systems that included consideration of student achievement. Later, waivers from NCLB accountability also required states to adopt new teacher evals. By 2016, forty-four states had passed legislation.


• Unions signaled openness. In January 2010, AFT President Randi Weingarten won headlines for a speech announcing her commitment to modernizing evaluations, which included the use of student test scores as one measure.[5] The AFT retained the services of renowned mediator Kenneth Feinberg, who had administered compensation for 9/11 victims, to oversee the development of a new model.

There’s more, but you get the idea. All roads converged. Acting on the differences in performance among teachers held the potential to improve student learning substantially and reduce the race- and class-based achievement gaps that had bedeviled U.S. schools for decades. The consensus was pretty strong.

One could envision a future where, over the course of a decade or so, this momentum led to a new generation of evaluations and the elevation of teaching as a higher-paying, more prestigious profession that held its members to shared standards of practice.

But that’s not what happened. So, where did it go wrong? Stay tuned.