Up to this point, the series has been about building a foundation.
Episode 1 was about urgency: telling the truth about how the current way of working is stretching staff thin, underserving students in places, and leaning too hard on personal sacrifice.
Episode 2 introduced the guiding coalition: the cross-role group of people who are respected, connected, and positioned to influence real decisions.
Episode 3 focused on forming a clear vision and a small set of initiatives: answering the question, if we do this well, what will this system look like for adults and for students, and what major moves will take us there.
Those three steps are essential, but they are still only a beginning.
Because change in public education cannot be carried by one leader or one team in a conference room.
It has to live in classrooms, hallways, front offices, intervention spaces, cafeterias, and meeting rooms.
It has to live in the everyday decisions of teachers, counselors, paraprofessionals, office staff, coaches, specialists, and building leaders.
That is what Kotter’s fourth step is about: enlisting a volunteer army. Kotter describes this step as the point where large-scale change becomes possible because large numbers of people rally around a shared opportunity and actively want to contribute to the goal together.
The phrase can sound dramatic, but the idea is simple.
Once there is urgency, a coalition, and a vision, the next challenge is to draw many more people into the work in ways that feel like an opportunity, not like one more obligation.
In schools right now, that is a delicate task.
Many staff members are tired. They have lived through plans that promised relief but delivered more complexity. They have seen initiatives fade. They have felt the difference between productive teaming and directive burdens.
So this episode asks a hard question:
How do you invite people into this change without burning them out?
One way to begin is by clarifying what is meant by a volunteer army in this context.
In Kotter’s language, this is the large group of people who choose to support and advance the change because they see its value and see a place for themselves in it.
That volunteer army is not a separate group of people doing free labor for central office, and it is not a call for everyone to work nights and weekends to prove commitment. It is staff choosing supported, meaningful roles inside the workday and inside the change effort because the work feels worth carrying.
It is the counselor who decides to test a new check-in routine with a group of students.
It is the teacher who tries the new referral pathway and provides detailed feedback.
It is the paraprofessional who helps refine a hallway support plan and shares it with colleagues.
It is the office staff member who quietly adapts how phone calls and messages about student concerns move through the building.
It is the assistant principal who aligns a weekly meeting with the new MTSS procedure instead of running it the old way.
It is the family liaison who helps translate a new support process into language that makes sense to caregivers.
None of these people may see themselves as part of a volunteer army.
They are simply staff who decide to lean into the new way of working.
The leadership task in this step is to make that decision easier, clearer, and more believable.
There are certain conditions that have to be present for that to happen.
First, people have to believe the urgency story is real.
If the case for change sounded exaggerated or disconnected from their own experience, they will be reluctant.
But if the earlier message about burnout, fragmentation, and repeated crisis cycles matched what they feel every day, they are more likely to lean in.
Second, they have to see themselves in the vision.
If the vision described in episode 3 was only about scores, compliance, or broad district goals, staff may not feel much connection.
But if it described a future where their workday is more coherent, where support is easier to access, and where they spend less time improvising alone, they can picture why this matters.
Third, they have to trust at least some members of the guiding coalition.
In many systems, staff do not have a detailed picture of the coalition itself.
But they know some of the people who are part of it.
If those people are known as steady and honest, that trust carries into how invitations are received.
Alongside those psychological conditions, there are structural conditions.
The initiatives have to be clear.
People need to know what the system is actually trying to do in practical terms.
And at least a few stop or simplify decisions need to be visible.
If staff see that some meetings are being retired or streamlined, that some expectations are being reduced, and that leaders are not just adding more, they are more willing to say yes.
Without those conditions, calls for a volunteer army can sound like an attempt to solve overload with more overload.
With them, the invitation becomes more credible.
To see how this works in practice, imagine a middle school where the guiding coalition has chosen several initiatives for the coming year: clarifying the MTSS referral and problem-solving process, strengthening Tier 2 supports for regulation and behavior, improving the quality of FBAs and BIPs, and reducing removal-based responses through better alternatives.
The principal and a coalition member decide it is time to bring more people into the work.
They start small.
Rather than a broad email that says, we need volunteers for our new MTSS project, they identify specific roles.
They know that many teachers are wary of anything open-ended.
So they design invitations that are concrete, time-bound, and supported.
For example, they approach a teacher known for being thoughtful and steady.
They say:
We are tightening our MTSS process this year so teachers do not have to guess where to bring concerns or wait weeks for support. Over the next six weeks, we are looking for a few teachers to pilot the new referral and meeting flow with their grade-level team. That would mean trying the new forms, sitting in one brief feedback session after school, and giving us real input on how to make it workable. We will protect one planning block for you during that window by covering a duty. Does that sound like something you would consider?
The teacher hears several things in that invitation.
A clear purpose: making support less confusing and more timely.
A defined role: pilot user and feedback giver.
A limited time frame: six weeks.
And a concrete support: protected time.
They say yes, not because teaching suddenly feels light, but because this sounds like a chance to improve a process that already costs time and energy.
Across the building, similar conversations happen.
A counselor is invited to help test a new check-in and check-out routine with a small group of students.
A paraprofessional is asked to help shape a new transition support routine for a hallway, with the understanding that their expertise with those students matters.
An office staff member is invited to help redesign how messages about student concerns are routed, because they see patterns others miss.
A family liaison is asked to review draft communication home so the new support pathway does not sound confusing or procedural to caregivers.
Each of these roles becomes part of the volunteer army.
None of them carries the whole initiative.
Each carries one piece.
That kind of design matters.
If the only way to be involved is to join another standing committee or take on a large, indefinite role, many staff will say no.
Not because they do not care, but because they have been in that position before and know what it costs.
Instead, leaders can think in terms of different levels of participation.
Some staff will be signal carriers.
They may not join a formal pilot, but they talk about the work in constructive ways. They help colleagues interpret what is happening. They reinforce the central message in their own teams.
Some will be practice pilots.
They try specific new routines and give honest feedback about what works and what does not.
Some will be local organizers.
They help align existing meetings, team time, or routines with the new way of working so the change becomes part of the week instead of an extra layer.
Some will be design partners.
They join short, focused design sessions with the guiding coalition to refine tools or processes based on what is happening on the ground.
And some become champions.
They take on a more visible role in modeling and explaining the new approach to others.
Not everyone needs to be a champion.
Not everyone can.
But many more people can play some role when leaders are intentional about how they invite and support that involvement.
How leaders talk about participation matters just as much as how they structure it.
There is a difference between saying, everyone needs to get on board with this new system, and saying, we are building a more coherent way to support students and staff, and there are several ways to be part of this work. Here is one we are asking you to consider, and here is how we will support you if you say yes.
The first sounds like a command.
The second sounds like an invitation.
In the same middle school, the principal resists sending a mass email asking for volunteers.
Instead, they use staff meetings to describe the work, share the urgency and vision in plain language, and then ask coalition members to have individual or small-group conversations with staff.
They make the roles clear.
They name the time frames.
They describe what participants will receive, not only what they will give.
They also recognize that saying yes should not mean carrying more on an already packed plate.
So, with the help of the coalition, they look for ways to lighten the load for early volunteers.
Some have a duty covered for a few weeks.
Some are given permission to drop a non-essential task.
Some receive direct support with planning or materials.
These gestures are not about grand rewards.
They are about alignment.
They communicate that the system is serious about making this work sustainable.
When staff see their colleagues supported in this way, they notice.
They see that participation is not a trap.
And that matters, because this step often goes wrong in very predictable ways.
One way it goes wrong is when leaders moralize participation.
Sometimes, in the name of urgency, leaders slide into language that suggests people who do not jump in immediately care less about students or are less committed to improvement.
That kind of framing breeds resentment and quiet disengagement.
Another way it goes wrong is when leaders overload the willing few.
Every school has people who reliably say yes.
Because they are steady and generous, they are often asked to join every team and pilot every new idea.
If leaders are not careful, those staff become exhausted, and the message to others is that involvement is risky.
A third problem is ignoring boundaries.
When invitations assume that people will do planning or problem-solving on their own time, late at night or on weekends, without compensation or relief, trust erodes.
People understand exactly what is being asked of them.
A fourth problem is token involvement.
If staff give feedback and then see no evidence that it shaped anything, they quickly learn that their role is symbolic, not substantive.
They may participate once, but they will not lean in the same way again.
And a fifth problem is all-or-nothing thinking.
If the only options are to be part of the core leadership group or not involved at all, many people will opt out.
Recognizing these patterns can help leaders design a healthier path.
Part of that path is making the volunteer army visible in ways that feel respectful and specific.
Back in the middle school, as the new MTSS process rolls out across the semester, the principal begins to share short stories.
In a staff meeting, they say:
Over the past six weeks, four grade-level teams piloted a new way of bringing student concerns forward. They helped us find places where the form was confusing and the meeting structure was too long, and we changed both based on their feedback. Because of their work, the process you are seeing today is simpler and more practical.
They mention names with permission, and they describe contributions in concrete terms.
The message to staff is not just thank you.
It is your colleagues shaped this, and you can see how.
They also share small evidence points.
They might say:
Last semester, it often took several weeks between a teacher’s first concern and a clear plan for support. In this pilot, that time was reduced noticeably. There is more to do, but people are already feeling the difference.
These updates do two things.
They show that involvement is making a real difference.
And they build momentum.
As staff hear that the work is real and that the system is adjusting in response to feedback, more people become willing to take part.
At the same time, the principal and coalition keep an eye on the early volunteers.
They ask how the experience is going.
They look for signs of fatigue.
They adjust expectations where needed.
They keep commitments about time frames so roles do not quietly expand.
This kind of care signals that the system is trying to build a sustainable movement, not just wring more effort out of already committed people.
It is also important to keep tying the volunteer army back to the earlier steps in the model.
Urgency helped people see why the current way of working was not acceptable.
The guiding coalition gathered a core group of leaders.
The vision and initiatives gave direction.
The volunteer army is how that direction becomes daily practice.
Without a broad group of people taking new actions, the best vision remains theoretical.
With them, the work gains life and resilience.
To end this step in the change process, consider a few questions.
When you look around your system, who is already acting like part of a volunteer army, even if no one has used that language?
Maybe it is the teacher quietly organizing a more effective grade-level support conversation.
Maybe it is the para who has developed a simple, effective strategy and shared it with others.
Maybe it is the front office staff member who has found a better way to route concerns.
Maybe it is the family liaison who helps new processes make sense to caregivers.
Have those efforts been noticed and connected to the larger change, or have they been left on the margins?
If you were a classroom teacher, how would the current invitations to participate in this work feel?
Would they feel like genuine opportunities to help shape a better system, backed by support and clear boundaries?
Or would they feel like one more ask, with vague expectations and uncertain payoff?
And what would have to change in your system for more people to say yes without resentment?
That might mean clearer roles, shorter commitments, better protection of time, or more honest communication about what is and is not possible in a given year.
Kotter’s fourth step is often described as building a movement. In his framework, large-scale change takes hold when many people rally around a common opportunity and want to contribute to it together.
In public education, that movement does not look like a rally.
It looks like hundreds of small choices made by staff who decide this work is worth doing, and that it might eventually make their days more coherent and more doable.
The leadership task is to make those choices easier, not harder.
In the next episode, the focus will shift to enabling action by removing obstacles.
Because once more people are willing to help, the worst thing that can happen is for them to run into schedules, policies, or processes that make it impossible to act.
