I have been a complete fool. For years I have thought “promotion” in teaching meant getting your foot on the ladder and working your way upwards.

But I have recently realised, a little late in the day, that I am stuck halfway up completely the wrong ladder.

The big money in teaching is now in self-promotion; it’s about having a video channel on Instagram or YouTube and becoming a “teacher influencer”.

Follow me

Maybe it’s not too late for me to give this influencing a go. All you have to do, it seems, is set up an online channel and start delivering regular advice to fellow teachers on your own assumed area of educational expertise.

Then you just decide what branded products you can casually associate with the presentation and watch those extra revenue streams start gushing in.

You wouldn’t be human if you weren’t tempted. Teacher influencers seemingly enjoy an even more lavish lifestyle than the celebrity influencers.

While Kim Kardashian and rapper Nicki Minaj may have more than 300 million followers between them - and have to push high-end clothes, travel destinations and other overrated tat in cliché-luxurious surroundings - a recent Tes article revealed that teacher influencers get to use and promote all manner of free classroom stationery - all from the comfort of their own homes (that’s possibly Covid-enforced but it’s hard to tell).

Finding a niche

No doubt there will be some teachers distinctly “uninfluenced” by the whole notion. To them, the sight of online teachers ostensibly offering advice while flogging staplers, glue-sticks and box files is perhaps the final straw.

They regard it as a sign of a noble profession selling out completely to shallow commercialism.

That view is, of course, hopelessly out of date. Instead of moaning about being overworked and underpaid, we need to get off our backsides and jump on the bandwagon, get our side-hustle going and invest the profits in Dogecoin.

The only danger is that the seductive world of classroom stationery may become too saturated, with thousands of teacher influencers suddenly all vying to promote a relatively limited range of board pens, pocket wallets, paper clips and the like.

Shirts, cars and crisps

Perhaps, instead, we need to branch out and seek further income streams from other aspects of the job.

A few of the smarter teacher influencers are already heading down this path, showing their adoring fans what they like to wear for school.

This is definitely the way to go. I am already looking to begin negotiations with a student of ours who works Saturdays at my personal tailor of choice, Next, and another who is my shirt adviser at George at Asda. 

I also hope to broker a major deal with the local Ford dealer. In my best Alan Partridge voice, I would suggest to them a video demonstrating how perfectly sized my 2009 Fiesta boot is for holding a teacher’s classic two crates of marking: “Frankly, the fit is exquisite. Virtually no lateral movement when you execute the potentially disastrous loop linking the A418 to the A40 on the way to Oxford, meaning no senseless exercise-book carnage when opening the boot at your destination.”

As for what’s in my packed lunch for school, there must be some big bucks in that, too. Move on, rapper influencer; make way for the wrapper influencer.

I might start with the grated-cheese people at Cathedral City, purveyors of fine microwaved foodstuffs Ginsters and the potato artisans at Hula-Hoops.

As you might have sensed from the deft name-dropping in this article, this teacher influencer lark is a piece of Mr Kipling’s cake.   

Stephen Petty is head of humanities at Lord Williams’s School in Thame, Oxfordshire