How many times have I heard the story?
1) Physics teacher doesn't hand out high grades for poor work
2) Students complain to parents and other teachers on ridiculous grounds*
3) Parents fight blindly for their children
4) Administrators either believe the parents uncritically, or set up a "he said, she said" false equivalence between the parents' complaints and the teacher's defense
5) Administrators give teacher a formal list of things to improve, most of which are unrelated to good physics teaching
6) Teacher follows administrator instructions to the letter
6a) Sometimes, administrator moves goalposts, demanding more "items for improvement" that are even more unrelated to good pedagogy
7) Teacher is informed that his or her contract will not be renewed.
* "He makes people sing a song if they forget their homework. How can the school support a teacher who embarrasses his students like this?" There are bigger hills to die on, kid. Even if your complaint were, well, true.
Physics is different from most other subjects. For one thing, physics has right and wrong answers; there's no way to BS a physics test by writing an essay with advanced vocabulary and a few buzzwords sprinkled in. For another, good physics teachers don't play the "game of school" the same way that others do. Because we expect more from our students than spitting back memorized facts and algorithms, it's too often easier to try to fight us politically than to intellectually engage with the subject.
In your first year at a school, or in your first year teaching an advanced class, you cannot do much about items 1) to 3) above. Expect these to happen to you. The only antidote is culture building, such that those who advance these complaints become social pariahs. That takes years - and the timescale of the effect of the complaints is weeks or months. Be prepared.
We can start our riposte with item 4). Assume - at least until you have serious evidence to the contrary - that your administrators are well-meaning but ignorant about physics teaching. Develop a collegial relationship with them. Copy them on email updates to your class's parents. Warn them ahead of time if you know or suspect that a ridiculous complaint might come to them: "Hey, I'm giving my first AP test tomorrow. Know that my students will all think they failed (they won't have), and they'll work themselves into a state about their grades, because I'm giving authentic AP-style questions. Please don't respond to any complaints for a few days! By week's end the students will have done their corrections and seen more clearly how well they did. If you'd like to talk Friday after school, I'll be around."
If your administrator still brings silly complaints to you uncritically, don't defend yourself. Point out the ridiculousness of the complaint. I was recently talking to a teacher whose administrator came to her yet again with something stupid... for example, "Parents are telling me that your class timer ends with a cartoon dynamite explosion, and the students feel uncomfortable because of all the terrorism in the news." On one hand, sure, it's not a big deal to change timers.
But my response to this administrator would be polite yet aggressive: "For the sake of peace, I'm happy to change the timer. But I want you to consider your approach here. Do you truly believe that I'm promoting terrorism, or that I'm bullying students into feeling uncomfortable? Because if you do, you need to fire me right now, because that's not acceptable in this or any school. Or, do you think that students and parents are finding any little thing they can think of to discredit a new teacher who teaches rigorously? The next time you hear something silly like this, would you please support me by shutting it down?"
If your administrator is competent, they'll see your point, and listen. Sure, they may feel obliged to bring a few more of these silly things to you, but they'll do so with a wink; and, hopefully, they'll be more aggressive about shutting down parents. By calling attention to the lack of intellectual basis for these sorts of complaints, you're forcing the administrator to recognize and acknowledge the falseness of the false equivalence.
And what if the administrator isn't competent? What if they say something huffy like, "Our parents and students are our customers. We must always take their concerns seriously. I'm disappointed that you would dismiss their thoughts as invalid. Remember, perception is reality."
Then you're on to 5), 6), and 7) above. But now you know not to take your administrator seriously.
What to do, then, when confronted with a checklist of elements of teaching to improve?
Do nothing. Don't engage a vacuous argument on its merits; don't play a rigged game by the rules.
Understand that a formal evaluation of teaching means nothing. Yeah, sure, you can make checklists that sound objective, with goals that are black-and-white achieved or not achieved. It still means nothing.
If the head of the school - the one who decides who is hired and fired - knows your value and wants to keep you, (s)he will do so. If you don't meet some of the black-and-white evaluation objectives, this school head will suggest that you're improving on those items, or that they don't apply to your class, or that your overall value to the students and the school outweighs the few "deficiencies" in your teaching. Just keep doing what you think is right for your students, and outlast whichever administrative flunky is giving you trouble.
If the head of school wants you gone, there's nothing you can or should do - (s)he will find a way. As you meet checklist objectives, more will suddenly appear. Or, as you seem to meet a black-and-white objective, the school head will suggest that you didn't actually meet it. (Perhaps they will instead merely rubber stamp the judgment of a subordinate who wants to get rid of you. That's the same thing.) You'll be gaslit, undermined, Huckabee-Sandersed, and, eventually, let go. Nothing you say about meeting your improvement objectives will matter.
(Imagine that, as Lando lay down his winning hand to take Han's ship, Han had pulled out the thick Sabacc rulebook. "No," Han told the braying crowd as they reveled in Lando's smackdown. "Rule 23.1a, section vi allows the opponent to call for an Imperial tournament director to inspect the cards, if the opponent has adhered scrupulously to sections i, ii, and iii-v inclusive." Don't you think the Rancor would have shown up five movies early? That's what we sound like when disputing teacher evaluations - even, especially, if we are right.)
If you're being gaslit, stop trying to please those who are unpleaseable. Let it go. Polish your resume, talk frankly to whatever allies you have, and figure out what is best for you in the long term. A good physics teacher can usually find a job without trouble. If you absolutely need this particular job for the sake of your family's finances, well, hunker down and live like Syme in 1984 until you don't need the job, or until the revolution comes. All reigns end eventually.
Your sanity and self respect is important. Move on to the next job. Learn from the one you left - but don't try to learn how to please a boss who refuses to be pleased, nor how to better meet teacher evaluation standards. Learn instead how to get out ahead of whiny parents. Learn how to judge which colleagues and administrators to trust, and which not to. Learn how the (often silent) majority of students at your old school are uncomfortable or even angry that you're gone.
And throw yourself into knowing, challenging, and caring for the students at the new place. Somewhere, you'll find a school who appreciates expertise, and allows room for you to develop even more expertise.