Last year, I decided to give up the security of my full-time teaching job as a secondary school teacher and take on the uncertainty of supply teaching. I did so dreaming about the lack of marking and planning, the ability to leave a 3pm, and the freedom of taking a holiday without paying the hiked-up fares.

While all of this certainly has been true - and, of course, that’s wonderful - being a supply teacher definitely has a huge downside: it’s a very lonely job. After 15 years of being highly involved with a school community as a classroom teacher, it has been a bit of a shock to the system. Of course, as time goes on, you meet up with other supply teachers who attend the same schools day in and day out and bond over your experiences. But when you’re first starting out, you need to be prepared to be the invisible person in the staffroom.

On my very first day, I sat in the staffroom with a folder in my hand containing class lists and various bits of information about the school. There were empty seats next to me but no one sat on them. It really was as if I wasn’t there; the unseen and barely discernible cover teacher longing for someone to acknowledge her. I now understand how supply teachers felt when they sat in our school in the staffroom. It was so easy to just ignore them and sit with your colleagues. They were just cover teachers and, to the “real” teachers, they seemed to be of little significance. It was easy to forget and overlook the fact that the supply teachers had been there and done that, as they say. They are not aliens from another planet who have been sent to Earth to do someone else’s dirty work; they are fully qualified teachers who have decided to take a break.

The pupils, however, are delighted to see you: the cover teacher is here, they can get away with anything. If they are acting up, most schools have the “proper teacher” support available. Recently, I had a few problems with a Year 11 group. I went next door to ask for some support: “Could I have some help with the Year 11 group next door?” She replied, “Please?” as if to imply that I had been rude and should have finished my sentence with the word “please”. I felt humiliated but said nothing. She came and shouted at the group and threw one of the boys out of the classroom. She left and they continued in the same vein. Thank you for your help… I thought to myself.

The invisible people in the staffroom

As a supply teacher, there’s nothing more vital than being prepared and equipped for anything. Take your own pens, pencils, board rubbers, markers and even a cup and a drink. I’ve learned the hard way, walking around all day parched because I wasn’t shown where the staffroom was. This will happen in some cases where it will be assumed that you have the innate ability to picture the exact location of every room in the school just by closing your eyes. I now arm myself with supplies, which include a flask of hot brew.   

It’s still early days, I’m still finding my way and there is so much more to experience. One thing for sure is that I have become quite the expert at finding my way around the local area. I have visited places I never knew existed. I made progress in the staff room when someone nodded in my direction and smiled. Oh the joy of that one brief encounter. I exist; maybe I’m not so invisible after all.

There’s one thing I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to: the tense wait for that 7.30am call. There’s no telling on which day it will come. You’re all ready and set to go; lunch is sorted and your rucksack packed with all the goodies for the day. Sometimes it can get to 8.30, and you start to think: does this mean a day off? But then the phone rings, the name of the agency pops up on the screen, and someone asks if you can be at the school by 8.50. And it all begins again… 

Indira Mahun is a supply teacher in England