Losing the Booths : Internal Exclusion and the Risks of Re-traumatisation
"Exclusion and seclusion can echo relational trauma and systemic trauma; physical restraint can echo physical and sexual abuse. Retraumatisation... may drive even more challenging behaviour." (Centre for Mental Health: Briefing 54)
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| Trapped by Ashley Huisman |
A number of cases recently have seen mothers taking, or threatening to take their child's school to court for the seemingly barbaric systems of internal exclusion that are in use. Mothers of children with ADHD, with ASD, with mental health difficulties, with family trauma. The mother of a son who spent a third of his school year in ‘isolation’. The mother of a daughter who attempted suicide while she was in an isolation booth. I'm glad that it’s been widely reported on the BBC and even made the front page of the Guardian a couple of weeks ago; we downplay cases like this at our peril.
There is now an active ‘ban the booths’ campaign group, and the first ‘lose the booths’ conference took place in Leeds last month. In the meantime what I am having to do, as the school lead on trauma informed practice (TIP), is decide on whether our own systems for internally excluding students, including our isolation booths, can ever be justified while still aspiring to become a trauma informed school.
What’s in a name?
In every school there are rooms for people who need to be outside of normal lessons but who also need to remain inside the school. The confusion around the purpose of such rooms is borne out in the long list of names ascribed to them. The seclusion room, the reflection room, the exclusion room, the inclusion room, the improvement room, the well-being room, the isolation room, the pastoral room. These are, genuinely, names that have been used in schools I’ve worked in. And I’ve only worked in two. The fact that they keep changing reflects the fact that (a) there is so much confusion with regards to what they are for, and (b) they have not been very successful. Every year people meet and come up with a new ‘push’ for a new system, christen it with a new name and hope that it succeeds where previous iterations have failed. Fundamental tensions within the internal exclusion system itself are never fully addressed, and this can doom any new initiative as soon as it starts.
(In this post I am going to just use the umbrella term ‘internal exclusion’ or IE)
Why do children go there?
Who wants these rooms?
So to sum up, I would argue that segregating and isolating these students for punitive reasons, over an extended period of time, is:
What needs to happen
Clearly we need to work to find some kind of balance between the needs of all the people who benefit from the internal exclusion system, and the needs of the student who is excluded. The next steps have to start with clearly identifying the purpose of excluding the child, what the shared goals are, and then ensuring that the consequent measures are tailored carefully to achieve these goals.
If you need to impose a punishment as a way of deterring the student from re-offending, or as a way of deterring others, then fine. Pick a punitive system that works. Loss of personal time at the end of the day, some removal of privileges, a parent meeting should be sufficient for most kids. Make it quick, so that students aren’t held back from moving on from it, don’t make it disproportionately punitive, involve parents as and where possible, incorporate some of the restorative justice strategies as and where possible. And crucially, reward and pay first and most attention to the students behaving well. Do whatever it takes to create a peer culture of adherence to the rules and boundaries.
Where this is not sufficient, the first thing we have to ask ourselves is why these measures have not worked. Are their parents not able to enforce proper boundaries at home? Do they have difficulties with emotional regulation stemming from early childhood trauma? Do they have issues with self-esteem? In these cases, what makes us think that more significant sanctions will suddenly be successful? Who would believe that a few days in an isolation booth will work, where the initial sanctions have failed?
All behaviour is communication, and we must, at the point where the initial, universal sanctions have not had the desired effect, all be working together to try and construct a picture of what the unmet needs might be that this student is communicating to us. In these cases, I would argue that any period in IE, unless it is properly resourced, would be at best ineffective and at worst have damaging consequences for the student in question.
But ultimately what these young people need is the chance to form a positive relationship with a calm and consistent adult who can contain them emotionally, who can take an interest in their wellbeing, who can resist the inevitable attempts by the young person to push them away and sabotage the relationship. Who can take meaningful steps towards helping them to feel valued, wanted, secure. They need a therapeutic space where they can perhaps work through some of the trauma they have experienced with someone who might be able to help them come to terms with it. Without this, all we are really doing is increasing the likelihood that their early childhood trauma will come back to play out in their daily lives time after time.
There is now an active ‘ban the booths’ campaign group, and the first ‘lose the booths’ conference took place in Leeds last month. In the meantime what I am having to do, as the school lead on trauma informed practice (TIP), is decide on whether our own systems for internally excluding students, including our isolation booths, can ever be justified while still aspiring to become a trauma informed school.
What’s in a name?
In every school there are rooms for people who need to be outside of normal lessons but who also need to remain inside the school. The confusion around the purpose of such rooms is borne out in the long list of names ascribed to them. The seclusion room, the reflection room, the exclusion room, the inclusion room, the improvement room, the well-being room, the isolation room, the pastoral room. These are, genuinely, names that have been used in schools I’ve worked in. And I’ve only worked in two. The fact that they keep changing reflects the fact that (a) there is so much confusion with regards to what they are for, and (b) they have not been very successful. Every year people meet and come up with a new ‘push’ for a new system, christen it with a new name and hope that it succeeds where previous iterations have failed. Fundamental tensions within the internal exclusion system itself are never fully addressed, and this can doom any new initiative as soon as it starts.
(In this post I am going to just use the umbrella term ‘internal exclusion’ or IE)
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| By the Tree by Robert Owen Bloomfield |
Why do children go there?
There are three main reasons I've encountered why a child might be placed in a form of IE. This delineation is important because although they each have very distinct purposes, and as such require different resources and approaches, they are often confused with each other, sometimes occupy the same physical space, and can be run by the same members of staff.
A student may need to be briefly separated from their peers if they are in a temporarily heightened state of emotional arousal. They have had a fight with a peer, or teacher, they are still in fight / flight mode, they need a safe space in which they can be both physically and emotionally contained to prevent further escalation. Once they have calmed down they are able to leave. Most psychologists will recommend this as best practice for a school to offer such a place, and for the student to know that they can go there when they can feel themselves becoming disregulated, as part of their own pre-agreed toolkit of self-management strategies (deep breath and count to 10 etc…)
The other reasons are more problematic. A short spell in IE (one day, possibly two) can be used as a quick ‘sanction’ for children where some form of ‘escalation’ is needed. Students may fail to successfully complete an after school detention or repair with a teacher, following a more minor infringement. It feels like senior leaders need this additional rung on the ‘consequences ladder’ that starts with a stern look and ends with a lengthy stay at a Pupil Referral Unit. Or they might simply want something more severe than a detention to clamp down on uniform infringements or mobile phone use, especially if detentions alone have proven to be an ineffective deterrent.
Finally, a student may have shown themselves, over a long period of time, to have significant difficulties managing their behaviour across several lessons in such a way that it tends to lead to significant persistent disruption to learning for the other students. They are instructed to spend a fixed period of time in this state of internal exclusion, until they have been deemed fit and able (and willing) to return to mainstream society.
A student may need to be briefly separated from their peers if they are in a temporarily heightened state of emotional arousal. They have had a fight with a peer, or teacher, they are still in fight / flight mode, they need a safe space in which they can be both physically and emotionally contained to prevent further escalation. Once they have calmed down they are able to leave. Most psychologists will recommend this as best practice for a school to offer such a place, and for the student to know that they can go there when they can feel themselves becoming disregulated, as part of their own pre-agreed toolkit of self-management strategies (deep breath and count to 10 etc…)
The other reasons are more problematic. A short spell in IE (one day, possibly two) can be used as a quick ‘sanction’ for children where some form of ‘escalation’ is needed. Students may fail to successfully complete an after school detention or repair with a teacher, following a more minor infringement. It feels like senior leaders need this additional rung on the ‘consequences ladder’ that starts with a stern look and ends with a lengthy stay at a Pupil Referral Unit. Or they might simply want something more severe than a detention to clamp down on uniform infringements or mobile phone use, especially if detentions alone have proven to be an ineffective deterrent.
Finally, a student may have shown themselves, over a long period of time, to have significant difficulties managing their behaviour across several lessons in such a way that it tends to lead to significant persistent disruption to learning for the other students. They are instructed to spend a fixed period of time in this state of internal exclusion, until they have been deemed fit and able (and willing) to return to mainstream society.
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| Isolation by Isabelle Amante |
Who wants these rooms?
SLT might talk to inspectors about the need to give students the opportunity to reflect, or access the right kind of support to help them manage their behaviour, but in reality that is not really why these rooms exists. Teachers need them to exist because they are so fatigued by the relentless disruption this child causes they need a few days of respite to try and get the rest of the class back on track. Heads and other senior leaders need an additional deterrent. Fail to complete your faculty detention, then you will be spending the day in IE. Fail to complete this, and you will have two days excluded externally, and come face to face with the daunting prospect of 48 hours’ uninterrupted FIFA. It works for the other students in the classroom, who are given temporary respite from the disruption. Parents of those students are greatly reassured by their existence, feeling more secure in the knowledge that their child’s learning will not be interrupted while the troublesome students are out of the classroom. They satisfy the needs of governors, and those of the local authority, both of whom are keen to be seen to keep behaviour in check but without the expensive and time-consuming paperwork of external exclusions.
Amidst all of this, who is listening to the needs of those children placed in IE? Not many people, as it turns out. With the exception of those strong-willed and well resourced enough to take the school or LEA on a journey through the judicial system, parents on the whole aren’t speaking out in significant numbers. From my experience they are often parents who themselves have language and communication difficulties, low self-esteem, as well as a sense of guilt and shame that their child is bringing the school into such disrepute. And the children themselves do not have a particularly strong voice in these matters, for similar reasons. And, much like those in the criminal justice system are denied the chance to exercise their democratic voice, It is generally felt that these students, through their actions, have given up their right to be heard.
But paying attention to the needs of the child is not only a moral and ethical (and legal) responsibility of ours. It’s also a more long-term strategic approach. Because let’s be honest, neglecting to attend to the needs of the child who is being excluded for the first time, is a guaranteed way of ensuring that he will be back for a second.
Amidst all of this, who is listening to the needs of those children placed in IE? Not many people, as it turns out. With the exception of those strong-willed and well resourced enough to take the school or LEA on a journey through the judicial system, parents on the whole aren’t speaking out in significant numbers. From my experience they are often parents who themselves have language and communication difficulties, low self-esteem, as well as a sense of guilt and shame that their child is bringing the school into such disrepute. And the children themselves do not have a particularly strong voice in these matters, for similar reasons. And, much like those in the criminal justice system are denied the chance to exercise their democratic voice, It is generally felt that these students, through their actions, have given up their right to be heard.
But paying attention to the needs of the child is not only a moral and ethical (and legal) responsibility of ours. It’s also a more long-term strategic approach. Because let’s be honest, neglecting to attend to the needs of the child who is being excluded for the first time, is a guaranteed way of ensuring that he will be back for a second.
Are there any benefits for the excluded child?
If fear of going into the IE room acts a genuine deterrent then this might help a student to regulate their own behaviour for fear of incurring the days in isolation that they would rather avoid. However, this would only be the case in a student who already had the capacity to think in a rational and future-oriented way during times of high stress and emotional disregulation. The fact that so many people who spend time in them, 30 days in a year, six weeks in a term, are ‘repeat offenders’ who consistently return, suggests to me that, either they do not regard it as a negative outcome, or, as I suspect, these are largely trauma-impacted young people who, at times of high stress, have difficulty employing the requisite planning and rational thinking skills.
They could bond with some of the other people in IE, forge friendships that could last a life-time. However, the other people in IE are not going to be the positive influences who will help you turn things round and put you on the right path. The main thing parents fear about their child being sent to a PRU, is not the education they’ll be missing out on, but the new set of friends they’ll be making. IE carries much the same risks. In such a space, the dominant ‘peer culture’ could present a significant barrier to escaping the cycle of re-offending. (David Didau has written extensively about the importance of peer culture and is well worth reading).
They might find a quiet space to complete work, free from distraction, or forge positive and helpful relationships with other members of staff, given the time to talk about whatever it is that’s making things hard for them to behave. However, (a) this will need to be properly resourced and well thought out, and (b) it raises the inherent contradiction: if it is a helpful and supportive place, then some students might want to be there, and if they want to be there, it ceases to be a deterrent. For it to be a proper sanction / deterrent, there needs to be a harsh, punitive element. And if it’s a harsh and punitive place, then it ceases to be helpful and supportive.
If fear of going into the IE room acts a genuine deterrent then this might help a student to regulate their own behaviour for fear of incurring the days in isolation that they would rather avoid. However, this would only be the case in a student who already had the capacity to think in a rational and future-oriented way during times of high stress and emotional disregulation. The fact that so many people who spend time in them, 30 days in a year, six weeks in a term, are ‘repeat offenders’ who consistently return, suggests to me that, either they do not regard it as a negative outcome, or, as I suspect, these are largely trauma-impacted young people who, at times of high stress, have difficulty employing the requisite planning and rational thinking skills.
"Punishing a child who can't self-regulate for not self-regulating will not teach them how to self-regulate." (Lisa Cherry)
They could bond with some of the other people in IE, forge friendships that could last a life-time. However, the other people in IE are not going to be the positive influences who will help you turn things round and put you on the right path. The main thing parents fear about their child being sent to a PRU, is not the education they’ll be missing out on, but the new set of friends they’ll be making. IE carries much the same risks. In such a space, the dominant ‘peer culture’ could present a significant barrier to escaping the cycle of re-offending. (David Didau has written extensively about the importance of peer culture and is well worth reading).
They might find a quiet space to complete work, free from distraction, or forge positive and helpful relationships with other members of staff, given the time to talk about whatever it is that’s making things hard for them to behave. However, (a) this will need to be properly resourced and well thought out, and (b) it raises the inherent contradiction: if it is a helpful and supportive place, then some students might want to be there, and if they want to be there, it ceases to be a deterrent. For it to be a proper sanction / deterrent, there needs to be a harsh, punitive element. And if it’s a harsh and punitive place, then it ceases to be helpful and supportive.
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| 'Fear' by Yves Tanguy |
What are the risks?
Of the people who find themselves in IE, many of them will have experienced some kind of trauma or set of adverse childhood experiences in their early years. There is a significant risk that putting through a particularly punitive disciplinary process could both echo the relational traumas they have experienced, and amplify its effects in the present. If a child has experienced or felt some kind of neglect, or rejection, or separation from a key care giver, or rejection, or enforced isolation from family members, or peers, then taking them out of lessons and placing them in an isolation booth carries with it an obvious risk of re-traumatising the student. You risk reminding the student of, and reinforcing in their minds, the stories they have told themselves to make sense of the trauma. That adults don’t want them around. That they don’t deserve to get what others are getting. That they are worthless. That they don’t belong there. If our goal is to try and help these students out of these ruts, to help them re-write their stories, and follow a different line of thinking, then clearly this is not going to help.
As well as relational trauma, The Centre for Mental Health also talks about systemic trauma: the idea that a student might feel like they belong to a group of students who are routinely punished unfairly by a system run by a dominant group that discriminates against them. So this could be racial discrimination, or it could be if they perceive teachers belonging to a different class. We know that black Caribbean students are disproportionately more likely to find themselves being excluded from lessons in some way. Again there is a danger of reinforcing the existing sense for these students that the world is set against them.
Of the people who find themselves in IE, many of them will have experienced some kind of trauma or set of adverse childhood experiences in their early years. There is a significant risk that putting through a particularly punitive disciplinary process could both echo the relational traumas they have experienced, and amplify its effects in the present. If a child has experienced or felt some kind of neglect, or rejection, or separation from a key care giver, or rejection, or enforced isolation from family members, or peers, then taking them out of lessons and placing them in an isolation booth carries with it an obvious risk of re-traumatising the student. You risk reminding the student of, and reinforcing in their minds, the stories they have told themselves to make sense of the trauma. That adults don’t want them around. That they don’t deserve to get what others are getting. That they are worthless. That they don’t belong there. If our goal is to try and help these students out of these ruts, to help them re-write their stories, and follow a different line of thinking, then clearly this is not going to help.
As well as relational trauma, The Centre for Mental Health also talks about systemic trauma: the idea that a student might feel like they belong to a group of students who are routinely punished unfairly by a system run by a dominant group that discriminates against them. So this could be racial discrimination, or it could be if they perceive teachers belonging to a different class. We know that black Caribbean students are disproportionately more likely to find themselves being excluded from lessons in some way. Again there is a danger of reinforcing the existing sense for these students that the world is set against them.
Then there are the additional factors to consider regarding students with a special educational need. For a student with Autism or ADHD, or ODD, they might have experienced many of these traumas already, rejection, alienation, and it is compounded by this deep sense that they are being punished for factors that are outside of their control. Autistic children, for example, are hard-wired to not accept authority blindly. In his excellent post on autism and authority, Pete Wharmby explains that the automatic acceptance of a hierarchy of power should best be understood as “a neurotypical notion”.
“when presented with an authority figure, autistic people seek out what makes us the same, and in doing so obliterates the arbitrary (to us at least) difference of their 'authority'.”Unfortunately, blind acceptance of authority irregardless of whether it seems to make sense is the bedrock of school behaviour management systems. Like I say, there are similar cases to be made for students with ADHD and ODD. Bear in mind these are students who are already feeling marginalised from a world that is increasingly feeling to them like a world that is not set up for them.
So to sum up, I would argue that segregating and isolating these students for punitive reasons, over an extended period of time, is:
- Morally wrong - they are being punished for factors at least in part beyond their control.
- Legally dubious - every child has a legal right to receive an education and schools have legal duty to make reasonable adjustments to ensure that students with disabilities are able to access what the school is offering the rest of the students
- Ineffective - it risks re-traumatising students with early childhood trauma, exacerbating feelings of rejection, separation and low self-esteem that increase the likelihood of repeated offences.
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| Remnants of Hope by Jared Schaffer |
What needs to happen
Clearly we need to work to find some kind of balance between the needs of all the people who benefit from the internal exclusion system, and the needs of the student who is excluded. The next steps have to start with clearly identifying the purpose of excluding the child, what the shared goals are, and then ensuring that the consequent measures are tailored carefully to achieve these goals.
If you need to impose a punishment as a way of deterring the student from re-offending, or as a way of deterring others, then fine. Pick a punitive system that works. Loss of personal time at the end of the day, some removal of privileges, a parent meeting should be sufficient for most kids. Make it quick, so that students aren’t held back from moving on from it, don’t make it disproportionately punitive, involve parents as and where possible, incorporate some of the restorative justice strategies as and where possible. And crucially, reward and pay first and most attention to the students behaving well. Do whatever it takes to create a peer culture of adherence to the rules and boundaries.
Where this is not sufficient, the first thing we have to ask ourselves is why these measures have not worked. Are their parents not able to enforce proper boundaries at home? Do they have difficulties with emotional regulation stemming from early childhood trauma? Do they have issues with self-esteem? In these cases, what makes us think that more significant sanctions will suddenly be successful? Who would believe that a few days in an isolation booth will work, where the initial sanctions have failed?
All behaviour is communication, and we must, at the point where the initial, universal sanctions have not had the desired effect, all be working together to try and construct a picture of what the unmet needs might be that this student is communicating to us. In these cases, I would argue that any period in IE, unless it is properly resourced, would be at best ineffective and at worst have damaging consequences for the student in question.
"There is no point putting a child in a reflection or a repair room if they have acquired neither the tools nor the language necessary for either reparation or reflection."What would a 'properly resourced' provision look like? I could prepare a wish-list, while recognising the slim chance that my wishes would all be met. A provision that is staffed by professionals who have been trained in trauma-informed practice and/or counselling. An art therapist or play therapist on site. A one page trauma profile available to people who are working with the student. Screening tests for underlying learning difficulties, unmet emotional needs. A rolling programme of workshops focusing on developing self-esteem, growth mindset etc. Opportunities to keep up with academic work so that they do not feel like they are falling further behind. Opportunities to work with SEN staff trained in helping them to manage the learning obstacles they may face (e.g. reading support, working memory strategies etc.)
But ultimately what these young people need is the chance to form a positive relationship with a calm and consistent adult who can contain them emotionally, who can take an interest in their wellbeing, who can resist the inevitable attempts by the young person to push them away and sabotage the relationship. Who can take meaningful steps towards helping them to feel valued, wanted, secure. They need a therapeutic space where they can perhaps work through some of the trauma they have experienced with someone who might be able to help them come to terms with it. Without this, all we are really doing is increasing the likelihood that their early childhood trauma will come back to play out in their daily lives time after time.
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| 'Never Lose my Soul' by Donatella Marraoni |
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