As the new term rolls onwards and the first bouts of sickness begin to hit the full-timers, regular supply work starts to pick up. So I thought I’d offer a welcome glimmer of hope to the beleaguered cover teacher. This week’s column is one of those rare things, the story of a good day at the office.
To begin with, it looks like I’m not even going to be working. Eight o’clock comes and goes and the phone doesn’t ring. Usually, if no one calls by this time it means my services are not required. I turn over in bed and consider how I might spend my free day. A trip to Tate Modern? Crank out another chapter of the novel? A trawl through the education press to bring myself up to speed with the latest pedagogic doctrine (yeah right; I left that nonsense behind when I ditched the permanent post)? But then at 10 past nine, the phone rings and I’m off. As it’s a late call, the school won’t be expecting me until the start of lesson two, but yes, of course, I’ll still be paid for the whole day. Result.
The school is located in a decidedly upscale area of North London, and with it being a beautiful warm morning I have to fight my urge to stop off at one of the chichi coffee bars. Instead, I quicken my pace, keen not to take the piss. By the time I arrive in the classroom, mere seconds before the students, I’m a little flustered and perspiring heavily. This is entirely the wrong state to be in for greeting a new class. Lack of preparedness and any outward signs of physical frailty are mercilessly pounced upon by sharp-eyed students. They can smell fear, and in my case, it smells very much like sweat.
They don’t look like a tough crowd, though, so I go with an honest approach.
“Good morning, everyone. I was given the work for this morning’s lesson literally one minute ago, so you’re going to have to bear with me.”
Supply teachers ‘should savour the good days’
I’m hoping to buy myself a few moments to look at the lesson plan (and to mop up some of the sweat), but before I even manage to pull the first worksheet from its poly pocket, a hand shoots up in the air. Here we go. Maybe I was wrong about this not being a tough crowd.
“Yes, what is it?” I ask warily.
“Sir, do you mean literally, or do you actually mean figuratively?”
Huh.
They turn out to be total sweethearts. They’re keen to tell me what they’ve been studying, they’re interested in the topic and while displaying a variety of aptitudes, they all want to talk about their work. Once they start writing, and after taking a second to adjust to this alternate reality, I wander around the room and chat to the students. And you know what? They actually ask my advice.
When I walk into the staff room at break time, a chirpy PE teacher offers to make me a coffee (rather than me being left to sit quietly on my own in a corner). OK, the coffee is some crappy powdered dreck, but still. And then, when I look at my timetable for the remainder of the day, I see the holy grail of the supply teacher - a free lesson. But wait, shouldn’t our schools be ensuring best value from their expenditure on supply costs by getting maximum value out of cover teachers, I hear you cry? Probably. But look at it from my perspective - a free lesson.
After lunch, I’m with Year 9 for a lesson deconstructing Wordsworth’s Daffodils. As it happens, I know a little about this and I tentatively begin to offer some insights to the class, and, to my amazement, they are totally interested. They share their thoughts. They ask insightful questions. There are discussions about the beauty of nature and the power of poetry and Wordsworth’s inner turmoil. With Year 9! In a North London comp!
It’s a tough gig, supply teaching, and for the most part, we don’t get to see the kids at their best. In fact, the nature of the job means we tend to see them at their most disruptive and irritating. If anyone can tell me how to have more days like this (without going back to a full-time post!) then I’d love to hear it. Because tomorrow’s another day, and the chances are it’s going to be business as usual.
The writer has recently taken up supply teaching after 20 years in a full-time teaching job
