Surviving Supply

This morning I read an online article- “Tips for teachers- how to survive supply”. I found this article quite fascinating, as the general message within these tips was the idea of being prepared- whether this was with stationary, ‘fun games for time fillers’ or simply just to be there early on the morning you start. Nothing about this article mentioned the experience you may have if it all goes horribly wrong- and to be honest I can understand why. If just one supply teacher wrote about their experience in a truly terrible school with a tough environment and no information, I doubt many people would enter into teaching- let alone supply teaching.

Well I’m sorry but I think I’m going to have to burst that ill-favoured bubble and who knows, you may still like the idea by the end of it. So let us begin: ‘The real survivors Story of the Supply Teacher’.

Day One.

As you walk into a new school there is always a sense of the familiar. There will be a school office with staff who don’t know who you are, and quite frankly as long as you are not a parent don’t really care either. Like everyone else in the state-school system they are most likely to be run off their feet and behind on paperwork that they would prefer to have roaring on an open fire (Preferably one lit in the office).

As soon as you say the word ‘supply’ a look of recognition will appear on faces- something between ‘I had no idea you were coming’ and ‘what should I do with you now?’ It’s usually at this point that they refer you somewhere else (without directions) or to someone else (who you will instantly forget the name of), and so the day begins.

First class is sometimes- but not always- a good one. The children are still sleepy and not yet full of sugar and caffeine so they tend to be docile and easy to manage. If you are lucky, the day will start well. If you are unlucky- which on most occasions you most certainly will be- you will be faced with the first of many challenges; Being under minded by other adults.

The first and most important thing to remember is, much like the office staff, the other teachers find it difficult to help you. They are stressed, tired and in the middle of organising their own classes so generally they will come in, give you work then run away again. The ultimate horror is when they explain to you-in front of the pupils- how to contact them if you can’t cope on your own. This roughly translates to anyone under the age of 14 as, “This poor sap is an easy target- fire at will”. Teachers will very rarely remember to tell you about discipline in the classroom, and almost never tell you where the nearest toilet is- or how to get a key to unlock it. (I can tell you from experience that trying to find this information out has about as much success rate as retrieving the hidden gold from the Rennes-le-Château).

If the communication within the higher ranks of a school is bad, it tends to be the case that a ‘domino’ effect will then ensue, right down through the ranks and departments until the poor suckers at the bottom (i.e. yours truly), feel the real sting. Schools where the head teacher is no-where in sight should have a warning light above the door- ‘ENTER AT OWN RISK’; because it is almost always guaranteed that your day will be a disaster throughout all departments. You will introduce yourself to what feels like hundreds of staff and pupils, each with a different idea of how the school should be, and is, run. You will sit in someone’s chair in the staffroom and get looks of distaste and reprove until you leave said chair, and you will almost definitely use the wrong mug, in return for which you will receive an all-too-obvious ‘leer’ from one of the other staff members- insinuating that you should probably clean it until you can see your own face on the side of it- (in between the ‘’world’s best teacher’’ slogan and a picture of some fluffy kitten in the middle…vomit).

But let’s fast-forward to the next part of your supply-teaching day, as the morning experience is relatively easy-going and vastly different to your afternoon. If you are fortunate enough to be told about the cafeteria, even more fortunate to have been given a card/code or in some cases a finger-print scan (yes, finger-print scanning for a school cafeteria)- you will probably experience a half-decent semi-warm and salt-free meal. If you are not part of these privileged few, I seriously suggest bringing your own food. Or you will starve and no-one will notice.

Lunch breaks are different in every school so be prepared to scoff in twenty minutes and sike yourself up for an afternoon of sugar-induced hyperactive teenagers…who will inevitably know you are new and love their new-found power. (To answer any doubts on this subject I will confirm right now that yes, they can indeed smell fear). This, quite delightfully takes us to the big number two in overcoming the supply challenge- your age. Anyone who tells you age doesn’t matter in teaching is deluded, or just young and attractive- and most importantly male.

I am short, blonde, young and female. This isn’t usually something I have an issue with- I’m quite happy to be in my late twenties and peroxided up to my eyeballs. However this does not in any way work to my advantage in the classroom- it is one of my worst enemies when meeting new classes and new staff. The pupils think I’m a pushover and the teachers think I’m a pupil.

Male staff in school more than anyone else will have a good initial chance of survival because young teenagers will size up to them in a very different capacity. Young boys will look up to them, and girls will just start having ridiculous hormone-conducted crushes, (I say ridiculous but to be totally honest I am not completely immune to them myself…something about a guy in control perhaps?) At any rate, as long as anyone entering the classroom can hold themselves well, keep a straight face and do not under any circumstanced pretend to be the kids best friend- there is a chance of survival. Easy targets in the classroom tend to be young, nervous teachers or retired Santa-types who just need a hot-water bottle and a pair of warm slippers rather than a room full of aggressive post-pubescent ingrates who, thanks to the training mum and dad have carefully provided, are well-rehearsed in torturing anything with a tie and a workbook.

Not knowing children’s names can be the worst part of supply teaching, so for every new class your best chance of survival is to immediately make a seating-plan- or else you are slowly, over the course of one very long hour, subjected to painful and humiliating torture in the form of stupid noises, giggling and offensive remarks. (You will learn their names surprisingly quickly after the first “Were you in FHM miss?” remark).

And at the end of the day? Well, after you have made it through two more excruciating hours of trying to find pencils, sharpeners, rulers, punishment exercise sheets and eventually your own sanity…you wonder to yourself why in hell’s name you didn’t wear flat shoes and a low cut top (it shuts the boys up). And as you stand before the office once again and ask for a time-sheet in order to generate some kind of evidence and recognition of your suffering that day, you may actually look back and reflect on a few highlights. These may come in the form of an occasional smile from a another staff member, a piece of cake you were offered in the staff-room and even a few comments from some friendly fourth years who liked your boots and wondered where they were from. But wherever these small highlights have come from- and whenever they will appear again, treasure them. Because these are the small perks of teaching- no day, as they say, will ever be the same as the one before.