Students’ experience of isolation room punishment in UK mainstream education. ‘I can’t put into words what you felt like, almost a dog in a cage’

ABSTRACT

Over the past five years, school exclusions have increased in the UK and have become an accepted method of behaviour management. One way of excluding children from mainstream education is through the use of isolation room punishment where children are removed from their classroom and placed in a designated area away from their peers. Isolation units exist in most British schools with each individual school allowed to determine how this system is implemented and managed with little statutory and legislative regulation and oversight. Evidence suggests that best practice standards are lacking, and children placed in isolation room punishment are being denied access to the curriculum and are deprived of physical activities, stimulation and social interaction. Eight young people share their experience of isolation room punishment and their narratives capture their frustration and anger but also their pain and despondency in a system they see as unjust.

KEYWORDS:

• Punishment
• isolation room
• school exclusion
• mainstream education

Introduction

Fixed-term and permanent exclusions were introduced in the UK in 1986 to be used as a last resort solution to disruptive behaviour in schools in the face of threats of serious harm to the pupil or others (DfE 2017). Heads of schools can remove a student for 45 days each time; however, there is no limit on the number of multiple exclusions a student can receive. In 2019, the Timpson Review was commissioned by the Secretary of State for Education to review exclusion practices in schools in the UK and found that across three cohorts 71 children had received more than 50 exclusions during their school life (2019). The Department for Education (DfE) report an increase in students identified with behavioural difficulties rising from 1.7% in 2004–2.1% in 2011 (DfE 2011). However, a clear picture of the extent of behavioural problems in schools appears to be distorted due to the broad spectrum of behavioural challenges and the lack of available data (Ball et al. 2011). The only national data available is an Ofsted evaluation of student behaviour where 92.3% of schools in England were given a ‘good’ or ‘outstanding’ grade for student behaviour with only 0.3% judged at ‘inadequate’ (Ofsted 2018) and 70% of teachers surveyed reported generally good behaviour (NFER 2012). In spite of this, there has been an increase in Government policies and initiatives addressing disruptive behaviour in UK schools (Shaughnessy 2012). These policies are concerned with the development of a culture of respect and maintaining authority and control as demonstrated in the Education Act (2011) and the Steer Report (2005) (Ball et al. 2011). However, there appears to be no clear evidence of the efficacy of this abundance of behaviour policies, in fact, current thinking suggests that UK Government guidelines on behaviour are exacerbating the situation for some schools (Nash, Schlösser & Scarr, 2016).

One way of excluding children from the classroom is by using isolation rooms, referred to as ‘remove rooms’ by the DfE (DCSF 2009, 1). These are spaces within the school that are dedicated to segregating students whose behaviour has been deemed disruptive to the classroom and who ‘require help in improving their behaviour, attendance or attitude to learning’ (DCSF 2009).

Isolation units exist in most British schools with few official criteria and boundaries controlling their use (Gillies 2016). The statutory guidance on managing school exclusions states that they must be ‘rational; reasonable; fair; and proportionate’ and in line with the Equality Act 2010 and the European Convention on Human Rights (DfE 2017, 8). In spite of this, the number of exclusions from education has increased over the past five years, the Timpson Review revealed that exclusions for disruptive behaviour reached 108,640 in 2016/17, an increase of 28% from the previous year, suggesting that there is a need to review the system that is quite clearly failing too many children (Timpson 2019). The report does not provide a breakdown of the number of students receiving internal exclusion to an isolation unit attached to the school premises and there are no official figures or procedural guidelines on this process (Barker et al. 2010).

From the official statistics available, there is a high percentage of both fixed (45%) and permanent (47%) exclusions of children with an identified special educational need (SEN) along with a large number of Black Caribbean students. The Timpson Review found that 78% of students permanently excluded were classified as being ‘in need’, in receipt of school meals or had an identified SEN. The Government guidance states that ‘Schools should give particular consideration to the fair treatment of pupils from groups who are vulnerable to exclusion’ (DfE 2017, 6), however, statistics in 2010 reveal how a black African-Caribbean boy with special needs who is eligible for free school meals is 168 times more likely to be permanently excluded than a white, middle class, female (Longfield 2018). While reporting that outcomes for children who have been excluded are poor, the Timpson Review promotes the use of exclusion as ‘an important component of effective behaviour management in schools’ (Timpson 2019, 109). This is in contrast to UK disciplinary policy prior to 2010 that aimed to promote Behaviour Improvement Programmes and reduce student exclusion (DfES 2005). Early models of internal classroom exclusion programmes advocated for spaces that mimicked the classroom whilst providing students with extra learning support and psychological counselling. These in-school support programmes were part of a broader, whole-school approach with a clear exit plan to reintegrate each student back into the classroom (McKeon 2001). Some of the identified factors that undermine systems to support behaviour management include a lack of collaboration between the school and the parent (Bagley and Hallam 2016); poor communication between the school and the student (Hoyle 2016) and a lack of clearly articulated guidelines provided to schools by Local Authorities (Muir 2014). Adding to this is a lack of monitoring and research to evaluate the efficacy of exclusion strategies (Gillies 2016).

There is a clear distinction between the ethos of programmes that identify students as requiring support, and the utilisation of isolation units as a form of punishment. There is limited research on the efficacy of isolation room punishment and more specifically the students’ perception of this method of discipline (Barker et al. 2010; Gilmore 2013). In this study, we explore the effects of children’s experiences in recurrent isolation room discipline. We aimed to attentively research their lived world experiences and to record their accounts. We asked children why they felt they were sent to isolation, their experiences while in isolation, their return to their class and how they felt at the end of the day. Our analysis found that children felt there were significant questions around justice, an impact on their emotional and physical well-being and their right to education.

Isolation room exclusion

No statistical information on the prevalence of isolation room exclusion as a form of school discipline is publicly available in the UK and a Freedom of Information request sent to the Office for Standards in Education, Children’s Services and Skills (Ofsted) in January 2019 revealed that Ofsted is not required to collect or collate this information (A. O’Neil, Ofsted, personal communication, January 31st, 2019). With the lack of monitoring of isolation room punishment, some key questions are left unanswered regarding the effectiveness of this approach (Barker et al. 2010). According to guidelines published by the DfE, isolation room exclusion aims to provide supervised education and is not to be used simply as punishment. However, these recommendations are not mandatory and schools are allowed to develop their own behavioural policies and practices and monitor and evaluate these methods internally (DCSF 2009).

With no comprehensive monitoring in place to determine whether children placed in internal isolation rooms are successfully integrated back into the classroom, the efficacy of this method of discipline is uncertain. The rationale for removing students from their peers and placing them in a segregated space is equally vague and ill-defined (Gillies and Robinson 2012), but what is clear from the current study is that those students who are sent to internal isolation rooms view this as punishment. Drawing on Foucault’s analysis of discipline as a ‘technique of power’ aimed at attaining a desired level of subjugation and docility, the state adopts ‘dividing practices’ that objectify individuals through the practice of exclusion (Foucault 1977a, 170). Official guidance provided by the DfE states that reason for secluding students from mainstream classrooms is to punish disruptive behaviour, albeit as part of a broader support strategy (DCSF 2009).

Typically during isolation room punishment students are separated from their peers, often receiving individualised teaching. They are highly monitored and not permitted to socialise during recess periods (Bagley and Hallam 2016). Gillies (2016, 62) states that isolation rooms are highly controlled and surveilled where pupils’ differences are pathologised as ‘psychological flaws’ and the goal is to ensure that pupils exhibit obedience and conformity. Exploring the geographical and spatial configuration of internal isolation units, Barker et al. (2010) also found that these units were highly surveilled and regulated disciplinary spaces and suggested that the use of isolation rooms falls under the domain of restrictive practices found in other penal institutional settings. This mirrors the perception of the students in the current study who likened isolation rooms to jail. The schools they attended had extensive CCTV coverage in both academic and recreational areas. Students were acutely aware that they were being constantly surveilled and under the watchful eye or the ‘disciplinary gaze’ of an isolation room supervisor (Foucault 1977b, 174), with one student in the study having to hand over his personal email password for his account to be monitored. The spatial configuration of isolation rooms is devised with students in cubicles with their backs to the teacher, adding another layer of scrutiny whereby students are acutely aware that they are being constantly watched. This is suggestive of Bentham’s ‘panoptic schema’ (Foucault 1977b, 205), whereby it is the knowledge that they may be being watched that acts as a mechanism of disciplinary power and control. In this sense, power exists not as an entity in and of itself, but within the relations whereby one body serves to direct the behaviour of another.

What constitutes an isolation room in UK schools is not clearly defined and there is an endless catalogue of pseudonyms such as, ‘safe space; time out; inclusive exclusion; calming room; de-escalation room; segregation; garden time and quiet room’ (Paterson et al. 2011, 3). The DfE advice to head teachers and school staff stipulates that schools may create a policy which allows disruptive pupils to be placed in an area away from other pupils for a limited period on condition that it is stated in the behaviour policy of the school and schools are allowed to ‘develop their own best practices for managing behaviour in their school’ (DfE 2016, 3). There are no legal constraints on the length of the punishment and the room manager, who is not necessarily a qualified teacher, determines the students’ tasks. The DfE state that isolation room exclusion should only be used for a limited time but does not specify an upper limit for its use stating, ‘It is for individual schools to decide how long a pupil should be kept in seclusion or isolation, and for the staff member in charge to determine what pupils may and may not do during the time they are there’ (DfE 2016, 12). Gillies (2016, 2) suggests that although many isolation rooms are part of the same physical structure, students are drastically distanced from formal education, ‘with some pupils languishing in units for years’. In the current study, the four schools included Behaviour Policies on the use of isolation rooms with varying degrees of detail, with one school having just two lines in their policy on their isolation room to another school with a detailed criteria on entry, engagement and leaving their ‘Buddy Room’. The other two schools had a brief page on their ‘Internal Exclusion Unit’ and ‘Reflection Room’. Interestingly, some students were aware of a different nomenclature and referred to isolation room punishment as ‘Turnaround,’ however, overall the perception of isolation rooms was less positive with one student commenting, ‘Even the windows they had like bars on so it’s like, so it proper would remind you of a jail’.

Along with little data on internal exclusion, there is an alarming gap in accountability relating to formal exclusion, with widespread omission of exclusions in the records (Atkinson 2013). Anne Longfield, the current Children’s Commissioner stated ‘thousands of children remain hidden, continuing to fall through the gaps’ and with the partial exception of Ofsted, nobody is actively looking for illegal exclusions (Longfield 2017, 25). Further investigation has revealed that due to ‘off rolling’ whereby children are removed from mainstream education to improve school results, there are tens of thousands of children who may not be receiving any education at all. Ofsted (2018) report that 19,000 pupils dropped off school rolls between January 2016 and January 2017 and just under 10,000 of these students could not be found on the register of another state-funded school. Very concerning is Ofsted’s admission that ‘Unfortunately, it is not possible to know the full story of where pupils went to, and why, from the data alone’ (Ofsted 2018, 50).

It appears that best practice standards are lacking in the process of school exclusionary practices. A survey of teachers’ understanding of their legal duty surrounding exclusion found that almost a quarter (24%) did not know whether it was legal to falsify attendance records for a child who had been asked not to attend school; and over a third (39%) of teachers did not know whether or not it was legal to require a child with a statement of SEN to be sent home (Atkinson 2013).

Impact of exclusion

Whilst there is no data on the outcomes and consequences of internal exclusion policy, 40% of young people between the ages of 16 and 17 who were not employed, in training or in further education had experienced formal school exclusion (DfE 2017). Pupils who are excluded for prolonged periods often do not reengage with education and this can severely disadvantage their future prospects. Atkinson (2013) found that 86% of young offenders between the ages of 15 and 18 years had experienced school exclusion. With the lack of monitoring of internal exclusionary practices, there is no way of knowing whether isolation room punishment is a gateway to formal school exclusion and subsequent social problems.

The National Association of School Psychologists state that facilitating students’ mental health and well-being relies on the critical link between social-emotional health and academic success (NASP 2007). School is a space where children learn to navigate the complexity of social relationships and teacher support corresponds with positive social and emotional outcomes (Suldo et al. 2009). Using punishment-based strategies, such as exclusion, constraining physical activities and shaming has been found to be significantly positively related to increased anxiety in children (Gershoff et al. 2010). Evidence suggests that one in five children and adolescents experience mental health issues severe enough to warrant professional support and many of these issues have their genesis in the school environment where stress can result in anxiety and aggression that disrupts development and learning (Schonert-Reichl and Lawlor 2010). Children who have negative school experiences can have a diminished capacity to learn, perceiving themselves as unworthy. Internalising emotions of core shame can seriously degrade a child’s sense of self. Cozolino (2014, 253) states, ‘Children and adults with core shame come to experience themselves as fundamentally defective, worthless, and unlovable: the polar opposite of self-esteem’. When adolescents believe they are being treated fairly they view an authoritative system as legitimate and show greater cooperation (Gouveia-Pereira, Vala, and Correia 2017). Resentment and moral protest develops in early childhood but not in response to the unequal distribution of resources but rather when there is the perception that all do not have a fair and equal chance (Sloane, Baillargeon, and Premack 2012).

Methods

The aim of this research was to explore how young people make sense of their experiences of isolation room exclusion from mainstream school drawing on interpretative phenomenological analysis (IPA). Harper (2011) explains IPA as a journey with the interviewer and interviewee engaged in a reflexive process where meaning is constructed through a dialogical process between the researcher and the participants. Within a dynamic interaction between the interviewer and interviewee, a dual interpretation or ‘double hermeneutic’ takes place, with open-ended questions enabling participants to determine the direction of the interview (Smith and Osborn 2015). The idiographic nature of the IPA approach lends itself to small sample sizes to facilitate an exploration of the unique experience of individual participants (Smith and Shinebourne 2012). As the eight young people in the current study reflect on their experience of isolation room punishment, the researcher strived to understand them making sense of their experience, appreciating the conscious and unconscious processes that shape this dyadic interaction.

Participants

A purposive sample was drawn from parents and families whose children had experienced isolation room punishment in mainstream education and who were associated with a community group known to one of the authors. The sample population consisted of eight mainstream education students between the age of 12 and 17 years drawn from state schools within the North West of England. One school was a mixed, non-selective Academy with a diverse ethnic make-up; another was a non-selective, single-sex boys Academy; a Church of England (CofE) selective boys school; and a selective single sex, CofE girls school. The latter three were majority white British. Participants included four males and two female students. All students had been repeatedly excluded from the classroom within two years prior to being interviewed. Students were interviewed individually to enable them to speak more freely on a one to one basis without the influence of peers, with the goal of explicating their personal experience of isolation room punishment.

Procedures

The parents, who were all associated with a community support group, were approached, informed of the research aims and were asked permission for their children to be invited to participate in the study. Informed consent was obtained from both parents and children. Semi-structured interviews took place within a community centre that was familiar to the young people. Individual interviews were scheduled with each young person, lasting between 45 min to one hour. Open-ended questions were loosely constructed to enable students to shape the direction of the interview. The research adhered to the ethical regulations of the University and professional support was available at the interview if required.

Data analysis

All interviews were audio-recorded and transcribed and a detailed line-by-line analysis of each individual transcript was conducted without any a priori categories imposed on the data. The analysis explored students’ perceptions, memories and physical experiences of isolation room punishment and in keeping with an IPA approach, strived to protect the idiographic focus of each participant’s voice (Smith and Shinebourne 2012). After reading and re-reading the interview transcripts, consideration was given to each individual interview to search for ‘layers of meaning’ rather than broad themes (Langdridge 2007, 19). Husserl’s ‘eidetic reduction’ process refers to stripping away the extraneous material to capture the essence of the students’ subjective interpretation of their lived experiences (1962).

Initially, notes were made on the margins of the transcripts when an interviewee expressed a strong, emotive response, for example expressing anger at a particular incident. A secondary analysis of the transcript involved identifying situations that seemed to evoke emotive responses, such as students’ views on being watched; on the unfairness of decisions made and on the physical space. The analysis was reviewed by an independent academic to increase the validity and credibility of the analysis.

This approach to the study can be challenged as being insufficient in cohort size to confer generalizability onto other situations and because its lack of strong structure can be difficult to replicate. We were constrained in terms of time and budget. Importantly, we tried to gain validation through a debriefing session with the children themselves after the interviews.

Results

Justice

Meanings that emerged from the young people’s narratives seemed to cluster around the participants’ perception of their experiences of justice. Within education, distributive justice relates to the subjective evaluation of equity in the allocation of resources, whereas procedural justice is concerned with the perceived fairness inherent in the processes and procedures (Törnblom and Vermunt 2016). Judgements of procedural justice take into account the way decisions are made, for example, is there a perception of accuracy, consistency and a lack of bias? Have all stakeholders been offered the opportunity to have their say (Kazemi 2016)? Individuals want to see mechanisms for righting the perceived wrong and that the procedures and processes are seen to be morally just in accordance with established norms and values. Procedural justice is related to a subjective feeling of interpersonal respect and a sense of worth and this can be observed as early as 3 years of age whereby children are aware of ‘recognition respect’ (Engelmann and Tomasello 2019, 458).

In the current study, the young people appeared to be astutely aware of the injustice inherent in the regulating of isolation room punishment and throughout the interviews communicated their feelings of injustice and indignation that their voice was not being heard. One student reported,

It’s always, ‘Say sorry to the teacher’. There’s no ifs, buts, ands (pause) just say sorry to the teacher. There’s been times when I’ve said, ‘I’ve never done it’ and they’d say, ‘I know, I know but just say sorry to build a bridge’.

In this instance, the student chooses submission over trying to have his/her voice heard and another student commented,

You know you haven’t done anything wrong (pause) just say sorry and get it over and done with and move on. You just feel stupid saying sorry for something I didn’t do and you feel you’re giving them satisfaction but it just like happens to you doesn’t it?

This young person’s tone and body language communicated resignation about the situation, but he/she also expressed anger regarding the injustice of the situation, ‘I’m still angry about it’. Feelings of anger relating to procedural injustice were evident throughout the young people’s narratives where they expressed frustration at not being offered the opportunity to have their say. Not providing the opportunity for students to engage in a process whereby they feel that they can influence the outcome of a situation communicates a sense of low regard (Kazemi 2016). One participant who was involved in a group skirmish was singled out and sent on isolation punishment and felt that he/she had no opportunity to explain the situation or affect the outcome of the decision to place them in isolation.

We were like joking too and then it turned into a er more like a fight and then everyone gathered round screaming and shouting, making it worse but it weren’t, like … it was like we were messing and it got turned into something serious. It was just me standing there so the teacher was like … the teacher just screamed and erm took me into the room. If they were there watching the whole thing, I don’t think anything would have happened to us … . probably wouldn’t have even got isolation.

When asked why they do not speak out about perceived unfairness one participant stated, ‘Sometimes I’d feel like it but if I did, I’d just get in more trouble for disagreeing’. This young person expressed despondency, sighing when stating ‘It’s like kind of frustrating having no say’. Belief in procedural justice is particularly important in adolescence when young people are evaluating the legitimacy of authoritarian systems (Tyler 2006). However, often teachers have made their decision before hearing students’ account of perceived transgressions (Perry-Hazan and Lambrozo 2018).

Impact on students’ physical and emotional well-being

The implications of perpetuating an unjust system of social exclusion are far reaching, potentially impacting students’ psychological and physical health (Falk et al. 2014). The young participants provided a snapshot of the environment during isolation room punishment. One young person explained, ‘Usually you spend 6 h which is the school day … sometimes it can be a bit more ‘cos like put you in for an extra lesson’. Another commented,

you don’t learn nothing … just like sit in a room with things there so you can’t see who’s next to you it’s like … so like you can’t see and then you just sit and they make you face the wall and then even if you look they say ‘turn around or you’re here again all day tomorrow.

When asked about the spatial configuration of the isolation room one young participant reported, ‘Errm it’s like a wall and then a chair and then a wall and then a chair’. When asked if he/she was facing the teacher he/she replied ‘No, facing the walls, a wall and you get work. Just the wall’. He/she was very subdued adding, ‘I thought … . I think it’s quite bad’ and then quietly reiterated, ‘Errr … it’s quite bad’. Another young person compared the isolation room to a jail stating, ‘Makes you feel like you’re locked in … .you can’t get out. I didn’t want to go in. I used to hate it’ and one student described the environment as follows:

It’s an old classroom that they changed to the isolation room because in the summer it got too hot and in the winter it got too cold. The desks are separated by wooden walls like … yea so you can’t contact the person next to you. Yea they’re separated like this with the teacher in the middle … and cubicles in another room where the teacher can see you. You’re facing the wall the whole of the time you’re there

Asked if they are aware of the adverse effects of being in isolation one young person stated, ‘Yes because the fact is in the ‘box’ you’re more stressed out, you’re sitting there and you’re not reflecting on anything really … ‘cos you’re just you’re sitting there all day’. When asked how he/she felt about the layout this student stated, ‘Just feel like alone, isolated’. A student from a different school confirmed that he/she remained seated during the day between, ‘A quarter to nine ‘til five to three’ adding,

You feel just drained … . Because you’ve just been … you feel drained but you feel like so … so … like energized because you haven’t done anything but you’ve just sat there and just had the life pulled out of you all day, and then you get restless in your own house. You start taking your mood out on people that are close to you and you start being angry or you’ll go out and you’ll go out and do stupid things because you’ve either got too much energy or you don’t care. ‘Cos you just … .you feel finally free’

Students were aware of the impact on their relationship with their peers. One student commented, ‘Like sometimes it’s like it feels that it could be the end. Basically everything‘s like gives you a bad reputation  …  might ruin your life completely ‘cos people will like.. hating my company. Like you start feeling like you’re never going to achieve anything’.

Right to education

Section 3.4 of the UK National Curriculum requires schools to ensure that all young people are able to access their National Curriculum programmes of study (DfE 2014). However, the young participants were very aware that they were being deprived of their education when in isolation room punishment. One participant stated,

Sometimes you bring the work out, out of class if you’re like doing GCSE but if you’re not doing GCSE and you’re just doing normal lessons they’ll just give you like rubbish. Basically they’ll just go on the internet and print you a sheet out and you’ve just got to do the sheet … . a big sheet like of 400 maths questions (laughing) or something.

When asked what happens at the end of the day the child replied, ‘It probably just gets. … ends up in the bin’. This young person understands the tokenism of the education being provided. Another commented, ‘Errr they gave us paper and books, but I can’t teach myself. ‘We’ve done all that work all day, no one gets to see it. You don’t know if it’s right or wrong either’ and another stated ‘There’s nothing to challenge you or nothing and you go back into lessons the next day and they start moaning at you ‘cos you’ve missed out on a lot of work’. In terms of reintegration into the classroom, students in the study described their inability to catch up on their work. For example one student stated,

If I’ve been put in isolation and I’ve missed my art because they wouldn’t let me do it and then when I’ve come back to my lesson I’ve like come back another day and I’d go in my art drawer and the work ‘ll be missing and I’d say to the teacher, ‘Where’s it gone?’ and he’d be like, ‘Oh I put it on this shelf ‘and when you look it’s not there. Everything’s not like organized, it’s a bit off. That’s why I didn’t pass Art. Most of the work that I done went missing so I just gave up on it’.

Another commented,

It’s terrible because I missed out on a GCSE because of it. We were learning about the Albert Dock for geography and because I didn’t go there ‘cos I weren’t allowed to go down to the Albert Dock with the teachers and with the class and that like … ..when they came back I didn’t know anything about the Albert dock not into that much detail for the GCSE and that was like half of the course’.

Students’ indignation was reflected in the tone and astute observation of one young person who stated, ‘Isolation is taking away their education … anyway that’s what I think because they’re not in lessons anyway’.

Discussion

Children’s right of access to education are broader than access to a national curriculum and free and compulsory schooling and extend to the way children’s human rights occupy a central place in the everyday school values and practices (Woodhead and Moss 2007). Bernuz Beneitez and Dumortier (2018) state that over the past decade there has been a regression in the implementation of the children’s rights agenda with children becoming the object rather than the subject of policies and legislation.

According to Gillies (2016), during isolation room punishment there is little oversight regarding the amount of time children can spend in isolation punishment and no requirement for how the time is structured. The students in the study revealed that they were not engaged in any physical education activities during isolation. When children are placed in isolation for prolonged periods, deprived of social interaction and in a state of continual impoverished trust their emotional systems remain on high alert impacting their ‘sense of identity, hope, and capacity to relate to others’ (Nelson, Kendall, and Shields 2014, 13). Placing students in prolonged isolation, deprived of physical stimulation does not sit within a pedagogy of caring. Isolation punishment appears to produce iatrogenic results with damaging rather than rehabilitative effects and the evidence supporting the association between physical and mental health problems and a sedentary lifestyle is unequivocal (Tremblay et al. 2011).

Furthermore, isolation room discipline is contrary to the Institute of Medicine’s recommendation of at least 20 min of physical activity. Too much sitting can be a significant health hazard and breaking up sedentary periods should be seen ‘as a public health priority’ (Hamilton et al. 2008, 7). Public Health England state that continuous periods of inactivity are more detrimental to health than obesity and advise that sedentary time should be minimised for all children and young people (PHE 2014). A lack of physical activity can negatively impact the mental health of adolescents (Kohl and Cook 2013). Particularly at risk are young people from lower socioeconomic populations and ethnic minorities who are most vulnerable due to a lack of access to resources (Kumar, Robinson, and Till 2015). The significance of physical activity does not appear to have filtered into school behaviour policies and yet evidence suggests that children who are physically active achieve higher academic success, are less likely to develop mental health problems and are less likely to start participating in risky behaviours (Active 2015).

The challenges confronting educators are complex and demanding, however, banishing children to an isolated space and depriving them of their fundamental human rights is not an acceptable solution. Moss (2014, 11) states transformational change may not be easy, but it can be achieved with ‘different ways of thinking about education, but also very different ways of doing education’. The young people in the current study demonstrate their awareness of the injustice of isolation room punishment. Their narratives capture their frustration and anger but also their pain and despondency and their feelings of impotence to be able to change a system they so clearly see as unjust. Whilst negative experiences of teacher justice have been found to be significantly related to poor academic achievement, student distress and depressive symptoms (Correia et al. 2019), this can be mediated by students’ subjective experience of teacher justice. Students’ motivation, sense of worth and self-esteem is nurtured when the relationship is characterised by mutual respect and moral values and what Kazemi (2016, 118) calls ‘pedagogical caring’. Teachers’ altruistic and intrinsic motivation for joining the profession have been shown to revolve around the desire to make a difference in children’s lives and a passion for the profession (Bergmark et al. 2018), and yet many perpetuate a punitive system of discipline that fractures the spirit of the children under their care. This was poignantly expressed by one young person who stated, ‘I can’t put into words what you felt like … almost a dog in a cage … that’s what you felt’.

The way forward

Ball (2016a, 30) has described schools as neoliberal sites of power where education is concerned with ‘discipline and discourse and differentiation’. However, educators need to believe that they can challenge practices that they intuitively know are wrong by carving out spaces for critical resistance. While teachers alone cannot change the prevailing dominant ideology, they can start by consciously rejecting the prescribed roles of ‘technicians of behaviour’ and ‘engineers of conduct’ (Foucault 1977b, 294).

Actively listening and tuning in to how children feel about the everyday practices that impact their emotional well-being can be the first step for educators to shift the dominant discourse because ‘truths don’t just happen, they are produced in our struggle to decide the meanings of our actions, thoughts and feelings’ (MacNaughton 2005, 21). For educators, this begins with a reflection on how we ‘struggle over and against what it is we have become, what it is that we do not want to be’ (Ball 2016b, 1143) to ensure that all children, especially the most vulnerable, have access to a fully inclusive education. Changing the practice of unethical disciplinary measures may be difficult within a culture of standards and performance (Ball 2016b). There is an argument for a multidisciplinary approach to the management of emotional behavioural challenges as educators have been found to struggle to identify emotional and mental health issues in students (Armstrong and Hallett 2012). Offering specialised support and the elimination of holding areas for students removed from the classroom may be one step towards creating enabling environments where children feel valued and where their right to a quality education is met.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Data availability statement

The data that support the findings of this study are available on request from the corresponding author [J. S.]. The data are not publicly available as information could compromise the privacy of the research participants.

Additional information

Notes on contributors

Julie Sealy

Dr Julie Sealy is a Senior Lecturer in the Faculty of Education and leads the Early Childhood Studies programme at Edge Hill University. Dr Sealy has also worked in education in the Caribbean providing services for children and young people with special educational needs.

Elizabeth J. Abrams

Elizabeth J. Abrams is a community activist championing the rights of young people.

Tom Cockburn

Professor Tom Cockburn is Head of Social Sciences at Edge Hill University. He has published on a wide variety of issues concerning children and young people including citizenship, theorising participation in public spaces and sport and children’s welfare.