Many moons ago, at the dawn of my teaching career, I attended my very first school residential. As a newbie Year 7 form tutor, my role was to shepherd my flock around the mud and excitement of an outdoor education centre for two days.

The administrative burden fell to two school stalwarts who had run the trip in much the same way for many years. While they had done the metaphorical leg work in planning it, I quickly discovered that the literal leg work of accompanying the students on the activities was to be left to me and some of the other teaching staff.

So, with the gusto that marks out the NQT, I donned a thick jumper and waterproof and galloped around the grounds after my class. I vividly recall orienteering in thick drizzle, the terrified squeals generated by the high ropes, and crawling around in the dirt and undergrowth during one activity that seemed more like an SAS training exercise than a secondary school team-building activity.

After seeing my young wards to bed, I slumped in a heap in the staff area, soaked and exhausted. It was then I heard an amused voice ask, “Had fun?” As I glanced up with tired eyes, I registered that the trip organisers were already there, ruddy-cheeked and smiling.

“Wine?” they asked in chorus. In front of them were bottles of all shapes and sizes, lined up like a cocktail bar. It seemed that their day had been somewhat different from mine. Needless to say, I politely excused myself, pretty sure that had I sat there for two minutes longer, I’d have fallen asleep in my chair.

It’s only now, years later, that I realise that not all school trips are accompanied by booze hauls to rival your local off-licence and that the behaviour of my more experienced peers, in that particular case, was not only unwise but bordering on unprofessional.

Residential trips are not a chance to let off steam or sink a few cold ones with your cronies. As teachers, we’re there in loco parentis and that’s an obligation that needs to be viewed as the serious burden it is.

It’s time we challenged the view that school trips are a sort of escape from the classroom or means of taking on responsibility in order to secure additional pay.

There is no doubt that organising them is highly stressful, but this doesn’t give teachers the right to treat attending them as their own personal trip away or to shirk their responsibility to their students.

And, ultimately, if you do go down that route, you’ll miss out, too. Yes, those members of staff on my first school trip missed out on the hard graft of stewarding the activities, but they also missed out on forging relationships with students that make the crucial difference back in school. And that’s one of the most rewarding reasons why teachers should put their hand up for these trips in the first place.

Caroline Spalding is director of English and associate member of the senior leadership team at Tupton Hall School in Chesterfield

• This article is part of the Trip Planner supplement, free with Friday’s TES magazine