A Formative Confrontation

Early in my tutoring career, I worked for a business owner who taught me an unexpected lesson about fear-based management. He presented himself as supportive and reasonable – the kind of employer who cared about his staff. The reality underneath that veneer proved far more complicated.

At the time, I was training as a chartered accountant at a firm during the week, while tutoring on weekends for supplementary income. The tuition centre operated smoothly enough. Tutors passed each other during class changeovers, exchanged brief pleasantries, and went about their work. I’d noticed one tutor in particular during these transitions – someone I’d learned had studied economics at university.

My brother was taking economics A-levels and struggling with certain concepts. He needed guidance – not just subject help, but advice on university options, career planning, how to approach the subject strategically. I thought this economics tutor might offer perspective my brother couldn’t get elsewhere.

So I approached the owner one afternoon and asked if I could have this tutor’s contact number. Simple request, innocent intent. The owner smiled, said he’d get back to me.

What happened next: I received a phone call at my flat – actually a single room in a shared house where every room was rented individually. I answered casually, expecting a brief exchange. Instead, I found myself on the receiving end of a forty-five minute interrogation.

The owner was furious. In his mind, I was attempting to poach his tutor for private work with my brother. He confronted me aggressively, demanding explanations, trying to extract admissions of wrongdoing. This was a man who’d spoken to me for five minutes maximum during my entire employment, suddenly investing nearly an hour grilling me about my intentions.

I explained repeatedly – I wasn’t hiring this tutor. My brother simply needed advice about economics as an academic subject and potential career path. Nothing more complicated than that.

Eventually, he accepted my explanation. I was permitted to continue teaching. But the experience crystallised something important: this owner operated from profound paranoia about tutor interactions.

Why such extreme concern? His worry encompassed several perceived threats — tutors might gossip about him, compare salaries and discover inequities, waste time socialising instead of working.

The Initial Mindset I Adopted

When I launched my own tuition centre, that experience shaped my thinking. I unconsciously absorbed the same philosophy: minimise tutor interaction as much as possible. Keep them separated. Limit opportunities for conversations that might evolve into problems.

I didn’t take it to the same paranoid extreme as that former employer, but the underlying principle remained – isolation equals control.

Where my thinking began shifting: As the business matured, I recognised something fundamental. These interactions aren’t preventable, nor should they be.

Consider the practical realities. Managers need to speak with tutors regularly about student progress. This means tutors inevitably get to know each other. When we ask existing tutors for recruitment recommendations – which I’ve established as one of our most effective hiring channels – we’re explicitly acknowledging they have a network. If they’re recommending friends or former classmates, they already have those people’s contact information. They’re already connected.

What does this reveal? If tutors want to discuss salaries, they’ll find ways to do it. If they want to share concerns about management, they’ll have those conversations. If they want to gossip – and some will – no policy prevents it.

The question isn’t whether interactions happen, but how you respond to that inevitability.

The Collaborative Reality

Tutors naturally interact during class transitions. They ask each other questions about shared students. They discuss progress, homework completion, marking approaches. They exchange ideas about teaching methods that work for particularly challenging topics.

These conversations serve educational quality. When a student struggles with a concept one tutor taught, the next tutor can adjust their approach based on understanding what’s already been attempted. When tutors share strategies, everyone’s teaching improves.

Where does strict isolation get you? You might limit salary discussions – though tutors will compare notes anyway through other means. You might reduce social time – though this breeds resentment rather than focus. You might prevent some gossip – though you also prevent legitimate collaboration that benefits students.

My brother, who runs his own operation, maintains stricter boundaries between tutors. His approach reflects his overall philosophy – tight cost control, minimal trust, constant vigilance against staff taking advantage. He’d argue it protects business interests.

I’ve chosen differently. I allow tutors to interact naturally, build professional relationships, and develop rapport with colleagues. This creates a collaborative environment where people work together rather than in isolation.

What I’ve observed: Tutors who feel part of a team stay longer, engage more deeply with their work, and contribute ideas for improvement. Those treated as interchangeable, isolated units see the role as purely transactional – they’ll leave for marginally better pay elsewhere without hesitation.

You can’t prevent people from being people. You can only decide whether you want paranoid employees or engaged ones.

The Trust Equation

Some business owners believe tight control prevents problems. I believe it creates them. When you treat staff as potential threats, they sense that distrust and respond accordingly.

If tutors know you’re monitoring their conversations, discouraging friendships, preventing professional connections, they understand the message: you don’t trust them. That perception damages morale far more than any gossip or salary discussion ever could.

My approach instead: I assume good faith until proven otherwise. I allow natural interaction. I encourage tutors to share teaching strategies. When issues do arise – and occasionally they do – I address them directly with the individuals involved rather than imposing blanket restrictions on everyone.

This doesn’t mean ignoring legitimate concerns. If tutors are spending excessive time socialising instead of preparing for classes, that’s a performance issue requiring conversation. If someone’s actively undermining management or spreading harmful misinformation, that’s a disciplinary matter. But these are specific problems with specific solutions, not reasons to isolate your entire teaching team.

The Cultural Benefit

Creating space for tutor collaboration has strengthened our operation in ways I didn’t fully anticipate. Tutors share resources they’ve developed. They cover for each other when emergencies arise. They provide informal mentoring to newer teachers who are still finding their footing.

This collaborative culture emerges naturally when you don’t actively prevent it. The alternative – a collection of isolated individuals who happen to work in the same building – feels sterile and fragile.

What I’ve learned over time: The tutors worth keeping don’t need monitoring to prevent inappropriate behavior. They’re people who want to do good work. The ones who would cause problems through excessive gossip or drama will do so regardless of your isolation policies — and frankly, you’re better off identifying them quickly rather than trying to control their interactions indefinitely.

Final Perspective

That formative experience with the paranoid business owner taught me what not to become. Yes, you need boundaries. Yes, some policies make sense — clear expectations about work time versus social time, guidelines for handling student information confidentially.

But attempting to prevent tutors from knowing each other? That’s counterproductive management driven by fear rather than strategy.

I’d rather invest energy in building a positive workplace culture where tutors want to collaborate, where they see themselves as part of something larger than individual classes, where they contribute ideas because they feel valued and trusted.

The peace of mind that comes from trusting your team – even if it occasionally means accepting some salary discussions or minor gossip – far outweighs the exhausting work of constant surveillance and isolation enforcement.

Build collaborative teams. Allow natural professional relationships. Focus on outcomes rather than controlling every interaction. Your business will be stronger for it, and you’ll spend far less energy managing paranoid systems that ultimately don’t work anyway.