At certain points in my career, I’ve studied the classified job adverts with great intensity. In the days before the internet, looking through the ads in the Times Educational Supplement was a pastime to be carried out surreptitiously, when the staffroom was empty, if you were just looking to escape your current role. 

However, if you wanted to signal that you were looking to move onwards and upwards, or hoped that the headteacher wanted to keep you on with enhanced career prospects, your read through the classifieds would be more leisurely and more public.

Few establishments could afford more than a postage stamp-sized entry on the jobs pages, so the facts were cogently stated along with the point on the main-scale salary. In the summer term, the paper put on weight rapidly, then shrank to mini proportions when the rush died down in autumn.

I’m not sure at what point the adverts swelled to their current technicolour excess, complete with logo, school mottos and marketing pictures of magnificent settings or cheerfully grinning children in immaculate uniform, hands raised to answer any questions. Nor when the linguistic embellishments, daunting superlatives and self-aggrandising statements nudged their way in.

Teaching job adverts: who are they actually for?

Looking at the mosaic of colour and bulletpoints, I wonder what is going on. First, it looks like a severe case of mission-statement creep. Is the school or college looking for a new member of staff or advertising itself? Obviously, applicants want to have some idea of what they are getting into but do such adverts leave them any the wiser?

The best adverts offer an overview of pupil numbers, age range, diversity and inclusivity. But it surprises me how often there is no sign of where the school is located. Salary is only discussed should you be offered the job. To ask earlier is considered presumptuous. 

Then there is the glowing snippet from Ofsted, with the ranking (though usually only if the school has been rated “good” or “outstanding”). 

If you take the reviews and the superlatives too seriously, you may wonder how on earth a mere mortal such as yourself could fit in, which could put you off applying. 

But, as teachers know, an Ofsted inspection report isn’t necessarily a reliable indication of what the school is like to work in. Teachers have joined an “outstanding” school only to find that what is most outstanding about the place is the level of stress, and an onerous workload fuelled by the senior leadership team’s fixation on what they believe inspectors want to see. 

The biggest problem with job adverts is that all schools want outstanding teachers who are excellent in the classroom, inspirational and committed to securing the best possible progress from their students to help them realise their potential consistently.

Are we talking here about real children and real teachers? Is there anyone who never has an off day? In my more formative days, it was recognised that even the best teachers were only likely to teach a blinder once a week. That didn’t make you a poor practitioner; it was realistic. Sometimes, learning is just hard work. And, in any case, could pupils cope with six brilliant lessons every day?

Teaching career: finding the school that’s the best fit

Judging by the adverts, most schools want passionate and innovative teachers, who are committed and driven. Some have lengthy shopping lists, including: “visible, dynamic, collaborative and inclusive-minded” or “able to inspire, motivate and encourage”. 

The increasing litany of superlatives is daunting. The list of qualities required strikes a warning note. Is the culture one in which the surface is everything, bristling with personalities and star turns? 

Most teachers are modest by nature and reluctant to apply adjectives such as “excellent” or “inspiring” to themselves. Teachers know they are permanently a work in progress, no matter how far along the career path they are.

Should applicants read with caution the adverts that include words such as “flexible”? By its nature, teaching is demanding. Teachers adapt well to changing circumstances but does the word “flexible” mean that more and more hours would be required without complaint or query?

According to the Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development, teachers spend, on average, half their time on non-teaching activities, such as planning, marking, assessing, reporting and various forms of paperwork for which they never entered the job. Yet there is rarely any mention in adverts of the attention to detail, and careful analysis and evaluation required to use a spreadsheet, mark a piece of work accurately or plan meticulously. 

In fact, the more bureaucratic teaching becomes, the more it seems that the job adverts play up the dynamic, performative elements of the job.

Teachers are not naturally fragile but, in the wrong situation, they can easily become so. The best schools provide high-quality support and wise direction of teachers’ efforts to everyone’s benefit. Some schools offer packages containing an attractive pension scheme, medical cover, counselling, physiotherapy and 24-hour GP service online. 

For my money, the acid test of a good school is the quality of its staffroom - if such a haven still exists now that there is no longer a requirement for new schools to have one. Is there a staff committee? Is the school inclusive? Or is it subdivided into cliques? Are the senior leaders accessible and understanding? Do people manage to find time to have coffee (or tea) at break? Is there Cake Friday?

Spend 10 minutes in a staffroom and you’ll know everything you need to know about whether a school is the best fit for you. Perhaps schools should take a good look at their current publicity, weed out the excessive language that can put candidates off, check whether their information is useful, and balance the required qualities that reflect the reality of the job. 

And then, perhaps, those schools wanting to stand out should make the staffroom the unique selling point of their future adverts to attract the best staff - or at least to get them to interview. 

Yvonne Williams has spent nearly 34 years in the classroom and 22 years as a head of English. She has contributed chapters on workload and wellbeing to Mentoring English Teachers in the Secondary School, edited by Debbie Hickman (Routledge)