Excluded schoolchildren must not be social castaways

As we approach GCSE results day, many of England’s excluded schoolchildren perch dangerously on the precipice of failure.

For these individuals, the future looks desperately unwelcoming. Many go to non-mainstream, alternative provision (AP) institutions where under half take GCSEs in English and maths, and just 4.5 per cent get a good pass in both subjects. More than four in 10 students who complete their GCSEs in AP do not progress to sustained education or training, and face instead a treadmill of insecure work. Fifty-eight per cent of young adults in prison were permanently excluded at school.

So, who are these children and why are they being excluded?

The most common reason is persistent disruptive behaviour, followed by physical assault, a range of grouped “other” reasons, and verbal abuse. As unpalatable as these reasons are, what is striking is the extent to which individuals can confound the stereotype of excluded children. Take Sam*, who is in London-based AP. A cascade of poor behaviour sent him crashing out of school, but the problem was triggered by his mother’s death and father’s estrangement. He is a timid, nervous character, nothing like you might expect.

What seems to unite all exclusions is a sombre backstory involving years of complex, unresolved challenges: crumbling home environments, personal trauma, emotional upheaval, caring responsibilities, the list goes on. And pupils receiving support for special educational needs are around six times more likely to be permanently excluded than their peers.

In this context, it is alarming that more and more children find themselves out of mainstream education. In the last four years, permanent exclusions have shot up by 60 per cent. Fixed-term exclusions and home-schooling have also climbed, as has the number of children taught in AP—now around 53,000.

The exclusions data is not transparent and it is hard to know exactly what is driving these trends. What we do know is that many teachers feel ill-equipped to manage complex behaviour and find the right support. In a minority of cases, schools also exclude to boost performance, but we should be careful not to overplay this; overwhelmingly, teachers go into teaching to nurture human potential, not to discard it.

What should be done?

First, we must avoid false dichotomies. The debate on exclusions has become dangerously polarised. Broadly speaking, one side argues that strict behaviour and high standards will improve outcomes for vulnerable children. The other believes poor behaviour is the expression of unmet needs, and that the answer lies in training teachers to identify childhood trauma.

Ultimately, both are right. Discipline is, of course, essential. Outside school, not all children have the structure and culture of learning that good behavioural policies can offer. It is also absolutely right that pupils should be free to learn without worrying about perpetual disruption, and sometimes exclusion is entirely appropriate.

But discipline alone is not a panacea. The deep-seated, complex psychological roots that can drive disruptive behaviour demand a more comprehensive approach. We must support our teachers to identify specific needs and enlist external help. We must also unlock resources to intervene early. We can start by giving schools more freedom to access high needs funding—some local authorities already work with schools to do this, with promising results.

In exchange for more autonomy must come greater responsibility; schools should, to some degree, be accountable for excluded pupils’ exam results wherever they go next. But we must avoid a culture of mistrust. Most exclusions take place because schools feel they have exhausted all reasonable means. There is no point in the government taking a hard line if schools are unclear about how they might intervene early to avoid exclusions, and the government should offer them clear guidance to complete the bargain.

When it is necessary to exclude pupils, we must be ambitious about their futures. While some benefit from managed moves to mainstream schools, others gain from spending time in AP. But the AP sector is a patchwork of quality, ranging from the truly exceptional to the criminally unsuitable. Some unregistered providers operate in the shadows, escaping meaningful oversight altogether.

As we move inexorably towards another spending review, AP should be a priority. First, we should invest in recruitment and encourage cross-pollination with mainstream schools. There are many gifted AP teachers, but one in eight teachers in state-funded AP is unqualified compared to one in 20 in mainstream schools.

Second, we should improve partnerships between APs, mainstream schools and local authorities. All would benefit from a funded vehicle that enabled them to share good practice.

Third, we should invest in the AP estate. We allow new free schools to crowd out poor mainstream schools, and should extend the same latitude to free schools in the AP sector. We should also build better facilities when APs do not meet basic standards; no school should have to operate at the back of an industrial estate, but Ofsted has discovered instances of precisely this.

Preventing avoidable exclusions, and improving AP, can be the next big legacies in education. These items are now on the government’s radar and former minister Edward Timpson recently completed an official review, making 30 sensible recommendations. Now it is time for action. We can surely all agree that it makes no sense for individuals to stumble chaotically into unemployment, or worse, gang violence and prison. Nobody benefits from that.

If we fail to act, we will witness further splinters in a fractured society, economic loss when we face other pressures on public spending, and social challenges that will stain our collective conscience for years to come.

*Names have been changed