Maligned by students, misunderstood by fellow staff members and frequently misused by their employers, cover supervisors get a raw deal.

Recognisable by their darkened eyes and perma-fatigued expressions, they come and go so frequently that other staff members don’t always know their full names. And yet these undervalued legends have the unenviable task of making your hastily photocopied worksheets sound interesting. 

I saw a cover-supervisor job advertised this week. It was, naturally, sold as “pro rata”, which - for those of you who don’t speak Latin - means “fraudulently advertised salary”. The stated wage would be cleaved of 25 per cent even before tax, since term-time-only payment is calculated, though the salary is spread over 12 months. 

Worse, the contract wasn’t due to begin until September, meaning that the successful candidate would be high and dry over the summer. But the college knows someone will take the position because - believe it or not - there are people out there in desperate need of work.

Why good cover supervisors are worth their weight in gold

Cover supervisors are essential to an educational establishment and should be financially rewarded as such. A good cover supervisor - militant, respected, established - is worth his or her weight in gold. They deserve more. 

Yes, they don’t have marking or preparation expectations but that perk is seriously dampened by the sheer difficulty of the job they face, daily. The following-up of incidents, of classworks undertaken (or not), the disrespect, the rising cost of wine. 

I spoke to a cover supervisor recently, who admitted she was paid far less than visiting agency-paid supplies. She’d worked out that the amount of cold hard sterling she received each day for her trouble was, after the usual deductions, about £50. 

Day after day, teaching out of their comfort zone, for less pay than one might expect sitting at a checkout, why are cover supervisors treated with such disposable contempt? This “pro rata” salary is not, I hate to say, always going to attract the very best to the gig, especially when the advert states, as this one did: “Teaching experience is preferred but not essential.” 

Jack-of-all-trades super-teachers

Unlike most career politicians, for example, who learn on the job after a hasty reshuffle, these teachers are often - despite what the adverts shout - highly trained specialists of many years’ standing. Not only that but cover supervisors increasingly need orienteering expertise, self-defence, juggling skills and photographic memories in order to recall the names of a thousand children. 

In-house staff are a better fit for cover lessons than peripatetic supplies and they know the behavioural protocols, referral systems and names of senior management, so why they’re not paid what they’re worth is mind-boggling. 

Students treat the staff who’ve been around a long time very differently to newcomers, especially if it’s known that they follow up on every incident. Better than that, the teachers are clearly grateful for work completed properly (daily supply teacher’s instructions aren’t necessarily always followed to the letter).

But even the cover supervisors consider cover supervisors disposable: of course they do; they’re paid in peanuts. When they’re not confiscating paper aeroplanes, they’re hitting the jobs pages. And those same cover supervisor roles are coming up again and again. One local school I know advertises the position every six months.

Horrendously undervalued by the education sector in general, these teachers should be the glue that holds a school together but they’re too often considered a flaky paste that simply plugs the gaps, in order to barely weather the storms wrought by another teacher’s absence. 

The truth is, cover supervisors are - or should be - jack-of-all-trades super-teachers: heroic individuals called upon to educate bottom set Year 9 on a Friday afternoon. Pay them what they deserve.

Paul Read is a teacher and writer