Yes, I've had a few employers do this (or, even worse, request that you ring by 2pm to let them know how you're going to feel the next day).
The way sickness absence is dealth with in teaching is definitely up there in the top 5 of reasons teaching has become an awful job.
Ring in by 7.30am, within a 15min window, no matter what. You MUST ring and can't email or text, even when you have no voice or when you're throwing up/ on the loo with constant diarrhoea. And when you have something else (like a migraine or broken leg) always worrying whether you sound sick enough.
Full lesson plans/ slides required by 8am, which you duly provide even when everything in your head is spinning, and which you know won't be followed anyway. I think I have had fewer lesson plans followed than I can count on both hands in the last 20 years.
Having to ring in daily, at least once, to confirm ongoing sickness.
Return to work forms which dive into details of your absence, even when it's no one's business but HR's (I once was put on the cancer pathway for suspected cervical cancer and was forced to detail this to my male manager).
The sodding Bradford score, which penalises coming in for a day thinking you can do it, only to be sent home, and under which 4 instances of 2-day absences is more than enough to put you on an absence management plan, despite you working in unclean environments with children who don't wash their hands after the toilet, let alone after sneezing all over them.
The lack of time to catch classes up after supply has, inevitably, ignored all instructions left (and even if they hadn't, kids would have ignored them), and then being hauled into the office to explain why Johnny got a U on his last test when he's capable of a 4, like you chose to be off sick.
Parents sendings kids in sick, dosed up on Calpol, then complaining when teachers are off with the same illness.
And, not sickness related (but I experienced this within the last year), parents refusing to treat their children for head lice and you having to be in the vicinity of the child whose head lice you see crawling all over the table you lean over to check their work. Not exaggerating.