Although we teachers live in constant fear of judgement from our friends at Ofsted, we can sometimes be found doing a lot of judging of our own… “Ooh, 8b aren’t like that for me,” we think smugly over a cup of lukewarm tea. “I wouldn’t have accepted that piece of homework from Chantelle in 10f,” we whisper to a trusted colleague.

This tendency to judge is most clearly seen at lunchtime. In a world of professional performance, a lunch choice is an irresistible sneak-peek behind the curtains of a personal life. And we seize that opportunity.

For some, jovial joshing ensues: the NQT, who clearly still lives at home, unpacking the immaculate bento box (because when you’re 23 and rent-free, £8 per day on sushi is actually very reasonable); the colleague who is seemingly powered by merely black coffee and ambition; the working parent who’s unashamed of their Care Bears coolbag containing Dairylea Dunkers.

How we laugh at these things. But for some, there is a much more serious scorn.

Like those who unpack a nourishing salad box as part of an effort to become more healthy. “How,” you will be asked, “is that going to keep you going all day?” The insinuation is that it can’t. Because if it could, then why doesn’t everyone make such a healthy choice? What you are offering everyone else with your salad choice is guilt, and they will make you pay for it.

Then we have those at the other end of the spectrum - the school-canteen denizens who feast on plates piled high with unlikely combinations. Sausages with a side of chow mein? Why not. Chips, mash and roasties? Pile them up. “Got enough there?” comes the cry of the staffroom. What they mean is “How selfish are you to flaunt your efficient metabolism?!” And you will never be forgiven.

But the real wrath is reserved for the Microwave Hogs. What clearer way to attract the judgement of colleagues than by slowly heating up the stinkiest snacks in the staffroom, staking a claim to a corner of the kitchen for three-minutes-stir-three-minutes? As the wafts of tuna or garlic sausage linger, they are saying “Mmm, smells delicious” while deciding you are quite possibly the worst human ever to have walked the earth.

The only salvation is to also be a member of a specific staffroom lunch group that grants immunity. I am talking about the sugar fiends. These are the teachers who consider a balanced lunch to be a Jaffa Cake in one hand and a Hobnob in the other. The teachers who opt for tea with their sugar. The teachers who always have a bag of chocolate “something” at the ready for sharing. Sugar fiends don’t get judged. They get our unwavering devotion. Because during those dark days of teaching, they save us.

So here’s my advice to anyone who feels the burn of judgement on their back, be it lunch-related or otherwise: bring out the sugar and even an Ofsted inspector can’t judge you.

Laura May Rowlands is head of faculty for English and literacy at Woodlands Community College in Southampton

This article originally appeared in the 6 November 2020 issue under the headline “Dunkers don’t get slammed”