Approximate reading time: 10 min
Ok, sorry I couldn’t resist. 😉
That’s my LAST HOW-TO headline EVER I promise!!!!
So, I had an interesting day on Wednesday
I accepted a booking to cover a Year 3 class in a new school.
I arrived early, as usual, so I could get ready and prepared for the day. I was ushered into the staff room and asked to sit down and wait as they were just about to have morning prayers.
(God bless Catholic schools)
I sat down for about 5 minutes and I started to feel my anxiety rising slowly… I didn’t need to pray… what I needed was to get into the class so I could have some time to go over the lesson plans.
At 8.30 am I asked one of the teachers what time the children arrived at school and she said 8.35 am
Are you fucking kidding me… in 5 minutes???
I think she could see the absolute panic on my face and she suggested that I just sit down, relax and have a cup of coffee
“We are going to say our prayers now!”
she said beaming at me with an ever-so-motherly smile.
(Um ….I don’t think any amount of prayer is going to magically prepare me for the day’s lessons.)
I went back to the office and informed the 2 receptionists that I would really love to get to my class so I could start prepping for the day.
Receptionist A was highly annoyed that I even had the audacity to come and say that to them.
(If looks could kill)
She rather haughtily told me to go and sit in the staffroom and that the head teacher would help me
AFTER
prayers.
(Oh my God enough with the bloody prayers already!)
Receptionist B
(more the people-pleasing type)
was super sweet and followed after me, apologising… saying she didn’t know where I was meant to be going.
Feeling slightly exasperated,
(While secretly knowing EXACTLY where this was heading)
I replied that I had been booked to cover year 3.
She, rather sheepishly, said that there had been some changes and she wasn’t sure if I was still going to be in year 3. She said she thought I might now be covering year 5 and 6.
Like fucking hell I am!
I have, in the last 5 years, made it ABUNDANTLY clear to my agency that I won’t teach any year groups higher than year 3. I have informed them that I struggle with anxiety and that this is the self-care boundary I have set for myself to survive in this job.
As I have already mentioned numerous times on this blog – pubescent hormones scare the shit out of me…. give me needy little 4-year-olds any day of the week.
I have read a number of articles through the years written by ‘Successful Supply teachers’ always harping on about the ‘need for flexibility’ in this job and how ‘we need to be prepared to go wherever the school puts us.’
Honestly, it infuriates me that this is touted as the ‘norm’ for being a good supply teacher.
As far as I am concerned if you advertise a job, and I accept it, then when I turn up I expect to do THAT job. My profile states very clearly that I am NOT a Key Stage 2 teacher and that I only teach up to year 3.
I know many key-stage two teachers would be absolutely horrified at being put in a nursery.
It takes a certain type of person to deal with the mini-dramas and escapades of 30 little 4-year-olds!
I am such a person.
Imagine being hired as a plumber to fix a broken toilet and then when you turn up you are suddenly expected to fix the faulty wiring.
Plumber vs Electrician……
They both work with their hands.
They both make repairs in houses.
(They BOTH charge the earth!)
They are both valuable and necessary!
But they are NOT the same thing.
I have probably had this happen to me about 6-7 times in the last 5 years. These days I make a point of standing very firm on this boundary. I am generally very flexible if they ask me if I wouldn’t mind moving to a different year group in Keystage one…..but my flexibility ends at year 3!
The first time I ever said ‘no sorry can’t do’ to a school was about 2 years ago. I had been booked into nursery for the day and was then ‘told’ I would be teaching year 6.
When I simply stated that I don’t teach key-stage two the person who had booked me in was absolutely flabbergasted that I,
a mere lowly supply teacher,
had the temerity to dare say ‘NO’ to her.
Needless to say, she was furious and literally yelled at me that I would NEVER teach in that school again.
(Ooooooh I’m scared lady! – Do you realise I have a blacklist of schools a mile long that I REFUSE to go back to? )
Although I can laugh at it now, it was a pretty horrible experience at the time.
As if on autopilot I remember simply saying:
“That’s fine with me'”
and I turned around and walked out of the school
(While dutifully IGNORING Neurotic Angel who was chorusing in my head.)
That day was, a huge turning point for me when I finally came to realise a couple of things about myself:
1) My self-respect and my right to set my boundaries were far more important than any single paycheck.
2) Just as schools have the right to hire me, I too have the right to quit if they change the terms of our initial agreement
3) I wasn’t going to be bullied into doing any job that I wasn’t comfortable with.
4) NO one has the right to yell at me…even if they pay my paycheck.
When I phoned my agency to tell them what had happened that day they apologised profusely and paid me for the day anyway.
5) My agency valued me and the work I did.
I did worry initially about what would happen if the school wrote a shitty review on my agency profile but I concluded that I had enough glowing reviews from other schools to downplay one bad one.
6) I am a good teacher.
Hell, I would even go as far as to say I am an excellent teacher.
(When I am teaching the right age group)
I have a lot of patience and understanding with toddlers, I am passionate about helping them to feel loved and supported and I have a good understanding of what children at this age need. Plus I love nothing more than teaching through play.
Put me into a key stage 2 class and I become a mediocre teacher at best. I don’t know all the subject knowledge.
(Nor frankly, do I care to.)
With my anxiety level being so much higher than normal I don’t have nearly as much patience as I do with the babies.
My inner critics go wild and I constantly feel on edge.
Quite simply these days are emotionally exhausting.
I have in the last couple of years said yes to 2 schools that threw me into year 5/6 at the last minute, promising me that they were ‘well behaved’.
(Both times they were schools that I had taught in a number of times so I had built up a reasonable level of trust in the school and I didn’t want to let them down.)
Unfortunately, both of those days were absolutely horrendous.
Both days I went home in tears.
I felt like the biggest failure ever.
I promised myself after the second school that I would never, ever allow myself to be pushed into a situation like that again. At the end of the day, all MOST schools care about is getting their classes covered…and they will pretty much say anything to achieve that goal.
Looking back I can see how all these experiences finally pushed me to the point where I had to ask myself that very important question:
Who cares about me?
Who is looking out for my well-being?
The resounding answer without a shadow of a doubt was:
‘Me’ – I need to look after me!
It feels, for me, like the last couple of years have been about consolidating that lesson.
Learning to practice saying “No”
I will admit it’s still not natural but it is definitely getting easier.
On Wednesday I got ushered into a small office where I was able to phone my agency. They reassured me that they would speak to the school and try and sort it out. I sat in that office feeling like a naughty schoolgirl waiting for the head teacher to turn up.
And turn up she did.
All I can say is she was NOT impressed with me.
She walked in and simply said:
“OK, so now what?“
(Her disdain oozing out of every pore.)
I explained the situation, including the fact that I do struggle with anxiety and I have it stated on my profile that I don’t teach key stage 2. She very clearly did not give a dam.
(Jesus would be so proud)
She said that there had been a lot of absences today, hence all the changes, and rather irritably stated that
“plans change”
as if that was something I simply needed to get on board with.
It took every inch of resolve not to pipe back:
“Your plans changing lady,
ARE NOT MY PROBLEM!”
But I kept my mouth shut and said nothing.
I reminded myself that all that mattered was that I didn’t allow her to intimidate me.
We stood there both looking at each other for a couple of seconds and then she left the room.
A little while later the agency phoned me back and said that the school had moved some things around and I was now going to be teaching in year 2.
I was more than happy that a workable solution had been made.
I never saw the head teacher again.
For the first half of the day, I felt like I was a scarlet, labelled woman.
The other year 2 teacher who was meant to be supporting me with the work was pretty rude and dismissive towards me for most of the day.
(Clearly, my reputation proceeded me.)
But the Year 2 class that I was teaching in, were truly and utterly lovely.
A couple of hours into my teaching the deputy head came in to see if I was OK and apologised about the mix-up that morning.
I ended up having a really lovely day.
I felt more proud than I can say, that I stood up for myself.
I survived the awkwardness,
I made peace with being demanding….
Frankly, these days I would rather feel difficult and awkward than frustrated, resentful and anxious.
I appreciate that there are people in this world, like this headteacher, who will completely disagree with me concerning the role of a supply teacher.
And that’s perfectly ok.
I am most certainly NOT saying that my belief is correct.
It is just that…my belief.
But what has been amazing these last couple of years, as I have started to stand up for myself and what
I believe
is how I have started to find more and more schools that align with MY belief system. Schools that are happy to respect my boundaries and employ me as I come…..
