At the end of the academic year 2019, I used "moving out of area" as an excuse to finally (or so I thought) turn my back on teaching. "I'd given it a good go", I would say to friends and family who had seen me struggle through the last few months, as I gave away my French resources and stationery. Part of me certainly felt like I had failed, to have given up on a career so early on, to be the first of my PGCE MFL cohort to throw in the red, white and blue towel.
But truth be told, I was beaten. My young, promising ambitions had all but been erased by the monotony of living within the four walls of my own classroom. I rarely ventured up to the staffroom, because why sit alone in a cold, damp room eating your lunch when you could be sat alone in a slightly brighter classroom eating your lunch? As the MFL department had dwindled to two members of staff (from seven, at one point) by the time I qualified, we were not deigned worthy of a staff room and so I often went whole school days without speaking to another adult.
So I packed my bags and dived straight into the private sector, Explore Learning. EL is a maths and English tuition provider, and my working as an Assistant Director was a short side-step into private education. Suddenly I found myself with a whole sixty-minute lunch break, and would sit around the staff table with *colleagues* discussing TikTok and the news. A taste of the high life.
Yet despite all the perks of a corporate role, I missed the classroom. So my short and sweet time with EL came to an end and I set myself up with three supply teaching agencies. This is what I learned.
1. Do not rely on a single supply teaching agency.
Every conversation you have with your agency is a business transaction. If they know that you have no other option or that you are in desperate need of work, it's a numbers game and you could lose out on more money, better work. Be clear about what kind of work you prefer, what you are willing to do, and how much you are willing to work for. Don't play them off against each other, as this isn't professional, but be transparent. If one of the other agencies offers £10 more per day for the same work, let the others know - show them what you're worth. Then once your first job is settled, treat every day like an interview day. Dress smart, perform well, and interact with the department. You never know - they could end up with a vacancy with your name on it.
2. Behaviour management is a whole different ball game when you're a supply teacher.
Learn the school behaviour system - kids can smell fear and they will tell you if you step a foot out of line. If you don't know the system, as some schools just send you in blind, then be honest with the students and find out from them. They love telling you and you can perfect the technique with each lesson. By P5, you're an expert. NB: Don't ask the whole class at once if you want to retain any sense of authority; instead choose a select few that seem to be getting on with work.
Always explain the 'why' of your behaviour management. If the students are used to you banging on about silent tasks and quiet pair work, they will not respond like you want them to, especially as a supply teacher. You just fall into the category of noisy adults who want peace and quiet. Explain why the listening task needs to be done in silence and praise them when they try.
3. The kids don't think you care. Show them that you do.
Teaching as a profession is in a sorry state. When I took time off sick myself, I was one of five teachers out of ~fifty who were off. Ten per cent. My students sent me a 'get well soon' card and asked for me to return. As for the school I am working in now, the figure seems higher. High enough for the students to not even consider why their teachers are off, let alone send a card; it has just become a normal part of their school life. Even the supply teachers don't last very long. Although I am covering maternity leave, the students were shocked to see me after the February half-term. "So does this mean you're our teacher now?" "Are you staying?" Just keep reiterating that yes, I'm a supply teacher, but I still care about your learning. I still want you to achieve. I want Miss to be proud of the French students you have become when she gets back. Being open, honest and consistent goes a long way with students.
4. Keep calm, you are not a drill sergeant
On my second day of supply in a grammar school, I was accosted by no fewer than three other members of staff to check I was 'prepared' for the upcoming class. Not in terms of work set, but behaviour. I was handed a walkie-talkie and told which number to press "when things became too difficult", the head of department squeezed my shoulder and smiled reassuringly, and the language teaching assistant offered me a quick rehearsed smile/grimace that complemented the horror in her eyes as the bell rung. It felt as though I was journeying to some kind of a front line. Confident as I am in my behaviour management, I was already unnerved. Then the chanting began.
It turned from classroom to battlefield in 0.3 seconds. My seemingly sweet TA almost immediately began shouting at the students as they exploded into the classroom, with many of them returning fire. Bags were thrown across the room in the rough direction of chairs and tables. One student was marched back out of the classroom before he had reached his seat. The chanting continued, and seemed to grow in intensity. The TA lunged towards my desk to grab the walkie-talkie only to then start threatening the room with her finger hovering over the call button. It was chaos in every sense. I calmly retrieved the walkie-talkie, and stood in front of the class with my hand in the air, a tactic most commonly used in primary school but clearly still recognised by this year 10 class. I motioned at intervals for the remaining students to take their seats. Presumably confused over my own lack of screeching, the students slowly settled down.
Then the lesson could begin. It was by no means perfect, and two more students were sent out within the following hour, but I didn't raise my voice. I answered questions, I walked around the room checking work, I asked my TA to sit next to those who were struggling. I explained why the noise level needed to be lower. It can be so difficult to remind yourself that you are addressing a room of children, in all their complicated emotional states, particularly when you don't know them. By this point in the year, their permanent teacher (who I was informed they loved and behaved impeccably for) had been off sick for almost five months. They were lost. They were disillusioned. And I was yet another random supply teacher they might not see again.
I won't lie: I breathed a sigh of relief once the last book had been collected and the last student had left. I walked sheepishly into the staffroom, knowing full well that the whole languages corridor would have witnessed the absolute bedlam that went on in my room. Instead I was stunned; the head of department congratulated me on not raising my voice. I had assumed the supply teaching contract would be cut short, a hasty excuse made in lieu of the ugly truth. But far from it. And the cherry on top? One of my neighbour teachers had heard the noisiest girl in the class admit "well, at least you could tell she cared" as she sashayed away from my lesson.
5. A support network makes all the difference.
I am currently working long-term in a languages department of four. Two of us are supply teachers, but you wouldn't know that because the support structure is well and truly in place. I have a strong head of department who checks in on me regularly and clearly cares about the well-being of her teachers, a veteran teacher who has been with the school for years and raises me up when I feel like I've failed, and a supply teacher who is always happy to go the extra mile. This is the department that I have always needed but never had. A group of teachers who inspire you every day and make you want to work harder. I've learned that it doesn't matter how difficult the behaviour is if you have a strong support system in place.
A few months ago, I taught two consecutive lessons that just went wrong. I raised my voice to be heard and even then, it didn't work. So imagine my horror when the Assistant Principal (whose office is next door to my classroom) stormed into the room like a modern-day Professor McGonagall. I was mortified. I had been conditioned for the first three years of my teaching career into believing that I controlled the behaviour in my own classroom, that the responsibility and blame was mine alone. As the door closed behind her, the gluesticks hit the ground and the students jolted into a silence I'd never seen. I braced myself for "what on Earth has happened?!" (which was almost always directed at me) yet to my shock, I heard the words "how dare you treat Señora Franglais like this? How dare you". The class hushed as the year 8s listened to their assistant principal laying down the law.
Despite this unnerving turn of events, I still implored myself to apologise to McGonagall at the end of the day. I geared myself up, ready to be told how to better manage my classes and noise level and how it was very distracting for other members of staff. And yet she ended up apologising *to me* for the way students in her school were treating a supply teacher. I realised there and then that there might actually be a future for me in the profession.
So, the most important lesson for me?
I had not failed - I had been failed.
Failed by a system that didn't account for the needs of its own staff above the figures. Failed by a leadership who showed me again and again that they didn't trust my instinct. Failed by a headteacher who let students out of after-school detention 30 minutes early. I left teaching the first time because, despite good grades and positive comments form students and families, I truly believed that I was not good enough. Supply teaching has set the gears in reverse.
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