The Routledge International Companion to Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 9780415584630, 9780203117378

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The Routledge International Companion to Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties

Responding to disruptive or troubled pupils with emotional and behavioural difficulties (EBD) remains a highly topical issue. The challenges these children present relate to wider issues of continuing political concern: the perceived declining discipline in schools; school and social exclusion; the limits to inclusion for children with special needs; increasing mental health difficulties in children; youth crime; and parenting skills. It’s little wonder that the ‘EBD’ (often known as ‘BESD’ – behavioural, emotional and social difficulties, or ‘SEBD’ – social, emotional and behavioural difficulties) category is one of the most common forms of special educational needs around the world. This topical and exhaustively researched Companion examines the difficulties of defining EBD, and the dangers of allocating this imprecise label to children. Bringing together the work of contributors from fifteen countries and across four continents, this book features the research of leading experts in the global field of EBD, who discuss and debate educators’ key concerns by:  looking at the overlaps between EBD, attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) and mental health difficulties;  outlining the types of appropriate schooling for children with EBD;  urging readers to look beyond pupils’ challenging behaviour in order to understand and respond to the social, biological and psychological causation;  considering the key areas of assessment, whole-school and targeted approaches that help pupils with EBD in mainstream and in special settings; and  outlining helpful work with families, the crucial contribution of effective multi-agency working, and the importance of supporting and developing teachers who work with challenging pupils. Containing contrasting views on controversial topics, this Companion’s approachable style makes it an essential reference book for academics, policy-makers, practitioners, educators, and students who are working towards a higher degree in education. Dr Ted Cole, formerly Senior Research Fellow, University of Birmingham, UK and Director of the Social, Emotional and Behavioural Association, is a Visiting Research Fellow at the

University of Bath. He has published extensively on issues surrounding EBD, child mental health, school exclusions and special education. Professor Harry Daniels is Director of the Centre for Sociocultural and Activity Theory Research at the Department of Education, University of Bath, UK and editor of the international journal Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. His many publications include works on Vygotsky, special needs and social inclusion. Professor John Visser, for many years in charge of training educators specialising in EBD at the University of Birmingham, UK, now works part time at the University of Northampton. Well known as a speaker and consultant, he has published extensively on behavioural issues, differentiation and inclusion.

The Routledge International Companion to Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties

Edited by Ted Cole, Harry Daniels and John Visser

First published 2013 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2013 Ted Cole, Harry Daniels and John Visser The right of the editors to be identified as the authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data The Routledge international companion to emotional and behavioural difficulties / edited by Ted Cole, Harry Daniels and John Visser. p. cm. Includes index. 1. Problem children–Education–Cross-cultural studies. 2. Problem children–Behavior modification–Cross-cultural studies. 3. Behavior disorders in children–Cross-cultural studies. 4. Behavior modification–Cross-cultural studies. 5. Classroom management–Cross-cultural studies. I. Cole, Ted. II. Daniels, Harry. III. Visser, John, 1946LC4801.R68 2012 371.93–dc23 2012004439 ISBN: 978-0-415-58463-0 (hbk) ISBN: 978-0-203-11737-8 (ebk) Typeset in Bembo by Taylor & Francis Books

Contents

List of illustrations List of contributors List of abbreviations 1

Introduction: Dilemmas and scope of the Companion Ted Cole, Harry Daniels and John Visser

x xii xviii 1

SECTION I

Definitions, labelling and patterns of provision Introduction to Section I Ted Cole, Harry Daniels and John Visser 2

3

11

Labeling and categorizing children and youth with emotional and behavioural disorders in the USA: Current practices and conceptual problems James M. Kauffman

15

The labelling and categorisation of children with EBD: A cautionary consideration Roger Slee

22

4

ADHD and children with social, emotional and behavioural difficulties Katherine Bilton and Paul Cooper

5

Institutional labeling and pupil careers: Negotiating identities of children who do not fit in Eva Hjörne and Roger Säljö

6

9

Youth offending and emotional and behavioural difficulties Carol Hayden

32

40

48

v

Contents

7

8

9

Policy and provision for children with social, emotional and behavioural difficulties in Scotland: Intersections of gender and deprivation Sheila Riddell and Gillean McCluskey

57

How children and young people with emotional and behavioural difficulties see themselves Gale Macleod

68

The challenge of inclusion: A full continuum model of educational provision for children with EBD in Germany Marc Willmann

75

SECTION II

Theories explaining child development and modes of intervention Introduction to Section II Ted Cole, Harry Daniels and John Visser

85 87

10 The importance of a biopsychosocial approach to interventions for students with social, emotional and behavioural difficulties Paul Cooper, Katherine Bilton and Michalis Kakos

89

11 How affection shapes a young child’s brain: Neurotransmitters, attachment and resilience Sue Gerhardt

96

12 Psychodynamic perspectives on children’s emotional growth and learning Paul Greenhalgh

104

13 Applied behaviour analysis: Its applications and limitations Louise Porter

112

14 Cognitive behavioural approaches to mental health difficulties in children Paul Stallard

122

SECTION III

Assessment and intervention in educational settings Introduction to Section III Ted Cole, Harry Daniels and John Visser 15 Assessing and supporting children and young people with EBD: The role of educational psychologists Jane Leadbetter vi

131 133

138

Contents

16 Identifying and addressing EBD in the early years Janet Kay

146

17 Links between emotional and behavioral difficulties and speech and language difficulties: What every teacher should know Jodi Tommerdahl

154

18 The challenge of assessing and monitoring the progress of children with SEBD: A British perspective Jane McSherry

161

19 Impact of functional behavioral assessment on services for children and youth with emotional and behavioral difficulties Robert A. Gable, Lyndal M. Bullock and Mickie Wong-Lo

170

20 Developing comprehensive, integrated, three-tiered models to prevent and manage learning and behavior problems Kathleen Lynne Lane, Wendy Peia Oakes, Holly Mariah Menzies and Pamela J. Harris

177

21 Resilience-enhancing classrooms for children with social, emotional and behavioural difficulties Carmel Cefai

184

22 Reducing emotional and behavioural difficulties in students by improving school ethos Marilyn Tew and James Park

193

23 Violence in schools: Its nature and effective responses to it Eric Debarbieux and Catherine Blaya

208

24 Addressing children’s learning problems through helping them control their attention difficulties Tatiana Akhutina and Gary Shereshevsky

216

25 Beyond classroom ‘management’: Understanding students with SEBD and building their executive skills Rob Long

226

26 Communicating with children in the classroom Bill Rogers 27 Pupil voice and participation: Empowering children with emotional and behavioural difficulties Paula Flynn, Michael Shevlin and Anne Lodge

237

246

vii

Contents

28 Understanding and responding to angry emotions in children with emotional and behavioural difficulties Adrian Faupel

254

SECTION IV

Specific approaches and issues Introduction to Section IV Ted Cole, Harry Daniels and John Visser

261 263

29 The value of nurture groups in addressing emotional and behavioural difficulties and promoting school inclusion Caroline Couture

264

30 Promoting social, emotional and behavioural skills through circle time and circles of support Jenny Mosley and Zara Niwano

272

31 Culturally responsive approaches to challenging behaviour of minority ethnic students Janice Wearmouth, Mere Berryman and Ted Glynn

280

32 Volunteer engagement with young people at risk of exclusion: Developing new perceptions of pupil and adult relationships Richard Rose

288

33 The pastoral pedagogy of teaching assistants Roger Hancock

296

SECTION V

Supporting school-based professionals

303

Introduction to Section V Ted Cole, Harry Daniels and John Visser

305

34 Working with parents and families to lessen the EBD of children and young people Terje Ogden 35 Multi-agency working with children with EBD and their families Barrie A. O’Connor

viii

306

313

Contents

36 Training and professional development for educators working with children and young people with EBD: A personal checklist for educators Égide Royer

322

37 Teacher education: Dilemmas and tensions for school staff working with pupils with EBD Philip Garner

330

Author index Subject index

340 350

ix

Illustrations

Figures 7.1 7.2 9.1 10.1 11.1 13.1 13.2 14.1 21.1 22.1 22.2 22.3 22.4 22.5 22.6 22.7 22.8 22.9 22.10 22.11 22.12 22.13 22.14 22.15 24.1 24.2 24.3 24.4 24.5 24.6 x

Percentage of Scottish school population within each Scottish Index of Multiple Deprivation (SIMD) decile by type of difficulty Percentage of Scottish school population within each Scottish Index of Multiple Deprivation (SIMD) decile by type of educational plan Stage model of institutions for the prevention and rehabilitation of behavioural disorders Biology and environment bio-psycho-social interactions The human brain A model of human needs The ‘dance’ of escalating adult coercion and child defiance Cognitive model Classrooms as caring, resilience-enhancing communities Percentage of CLASI scores of 5 or 6 for students aged 7–18 Primary school A, % CLASI scores of 5 or 6 in successive years: staff Primary school B, % CLASI scores of 5 or 6 in successive years: staff Primary school C, % CLASI scores of 5 or 6 in successive years: staff Primary school D, % CLASI scores of 5 or 6 in successive years: staff Secondary school, % CLASI scores of 5 or 6 in successive years: staff Average rating of key relationship factors at primary school A: staff Average rating of key relationship factors at primary school B: staff Average rating of key relationship factors at primary school C: staff Average rating of key relationship factors at primary school D: staff Average rating of key relationship factors at secondary school: staff Primary school A, % CLASI scores of 5–6 in successive years: students Primary school B, % CLASI scores of 5–6 in successive years: students Primary school C, % CLASI scores of 5–6 in successive years: students Primary school D, % CLASI scores of 5–6 in successive years: students Numerical sequence method (NSM) worksheet example 1 NSM worksheet example 2 NSM worksheet example 3 NSM worksheet example 4 NSM worksheet example 5 NSM worksheet example 6

61 62 81 90 98 116 117 123 187 197 199 199 200 200 201 202 202 203 203 204 204 205 205 206 222 222 222 222 223 223

Illustrations

24.7 25.1

NSM worksheet example 7 Assessment profile

223 232

Tables 3.1 5.1 6.1 6.2 6.3 6.4 7.1 7.2 7.3

9.1

13.1 18.1 30.1 32.1 35.1

Three frames Categorizing school problems: sociogenesis of categorizing practices Prisoners and education Levels of offending amongst school-age children: general population compared with children looked after for 12 months or more Free school meals, by type of school and by statement of EBD Exclusion and absence from school Reasons for pupils with additional support needs by gender, 2010 Cases of exclusion and rate per 1,000 pupils by type of exclusion, 2004/05 to 2009/10 Cases of exclusion and rate per 1,000 pupils by looked after status, disability, additional support needs and Scottish Index of Multiple Deprivation (SIMD 2009) 2009/10 The full continuum of services for students with EBD: educational provision from special needs support and related services for students in regular and separated school environments in Germany Outcomes of disciplinary styles Comparison of behavioural and cognitive approaches Differences between normal mainstream QCT and circles of support Interviews conducted Adapted from Ungar’s six principles of service navigation and negotiation

27 41 49 51 52 54 59 63

64

79 118 167 273 291 319

Boxes 15.1 24.1 25.1 25.2 25.3 26.1 26.2

Six stages of the problem analysis framework The five parts of the numerical sequence method Case study 1 Case study 2 Case study 3 When giving encouragement The least- to most-intrusive principle

143 221 228 228 234 241 243

xi

Contributors

Professor Tatiana V. Akhutina is Head of the Laboratory of Neuropsychology, Psychology Department, Lomonosov Moscow State University, Russia. She also directs the Laboratory of Learning Disabilities in Moscow. She is a student of Alexander Luria, a founder of cultural-historical psychology and neuropsychology. Dr Mere Berryman is a Senior Research Fellow, the Faculty of Education, University of Waikato, New Zealand. As the professional development director of Te Kotahitanga she works with educators, Ma-ori communities and other professionals to bring about education reform for Ma-ori students. Dr Katherine Bilton, the University of Alaska Anchorage, USA, is a sociologist and educator with over 25 years of international experience studying and serving students with special needs. She has published books and articles on improving outcomes for students with EBD, among them, children with ADHD. Professor Catherine Blaya, the Institute for Research in Education and Economics (IREDU), University of Burgundy, France, is a co-founder of the International Observatory of Violence in Schools. She is also Associate Professor at the International University of Valencia (Spain) and at Laval University (Quebec). Lyndal M. Bullock, Regents Professor in Special Education at the University of North Texas, Denton, USA, coordinates the graduate leadership programme in emotional and behavioural difficulties. He is also active in professional associations that advocate better services for children with challenging behaviours. Dr Carmel Cefai is Director of the European Centre for Educational Resilience and SocioEmotional Health, University of Malta. His books include Building Resilience in School Children. He is joint editor of the International Journal of Emotional Education and Chair of the European Network for Social and Emotional Competence. Dr Ted Cole, formerly Senior Research Fellow, University of Birmingham, England and Director of the Social, Emotional and Behavioural Association, is a Visiting Research Fellow at the University of Bath. He has published extensively on issues surrounding EBD, child mental health, school exclusions and special education. xii

Contributors

Professor Paul Cooper is currently Chair of Special Education at Hong Kong Institute of Education and Visiting Professor at the University of Malta. Paul is a writer, researcher and educator who has published extensively in the field of social, emotional and behavioural aspects of learning. Caroline Couture, ps.éd, PhD is regular Professor at the department of psychoeducation of Université du Québec à Trois-Rivières, Québec, Canada. She has a degree in psychoeducation and a doctorate in education from Université Laval. She researches the development of school services for children with SEBD. Professor Harry Daniels is Director of the Centre for Sociocultural and Activity Theory Research at the Department of Education, University of Bath, UK and editor of the international journal Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. His many publications include works on Vygotsky, special needs and social inclusion. Professor Eric Debarbieux, of the International Observatory on Violence in Schools, Paris-EastCréteil University, Paris, France, is well known in Europe, America and Africa for his wideranging work on violence on schools. He has also conducted major research in this area for the French government. Adrian Faupel is now retired and a Visiting Lecturer at the University of Southampton, UK, where he had been tutor to the Doctorate in Educational Psychology course. Previously he worked as an educational psychologist and is the author of books on anger management and emotional literacy. Paula Flynn, the School of Education, Trinity College, Dublin, Republic of Ireland, is completing her doctoral thesis on the social inclusion of pupils with SEBD in mainstream schools. Formally a post-primary teacher, she now teaches on and contributes to postgraduate programmes in education. Robert A. Gable, Constance and Colgate Darden Professor, Old Dominion University, Norfolk, Virginia, USA, has published extensively on instruction, functional assessment, differentiation and teacher preparation. He was a Senior Fulbright Scholar and President of the Council for Children with Behavioral Disorders. Professor Philip Garner, University of Northampton, UK, has published extensively on ‘behaviour for learning’ and other aspects of special and inclusive education and children’s emotional and behavioural difficulties. He is the Editor of Support for Learning and a British Academy Fellow. Sue Gerhardt, MA, is a practising psychoanalytic psychotherapist. Educated at Newnham College, Cambridge, UK, she was the co-founder in 1997 of the Oxford Parent Infant Project. Her publications include Why Love Matters: How Affection Shapes a Baby’s Brain and The Selfish Society. Ted Glynn is Emeritus Professor at the University of Waikato, and a Fellow of the Royal Society of New Zealand. His research, in applied behaviour analysis and inclusive education, continues to enhance outcomes for students in both Ma-ori and English medium education. xiii

Contributors

Paul Greenhalgh is Executive Director for Children, Families and Learning in the Borough of Croydon, London, UK. He taught children with SEBD before moving into management. His book, Emotional Growth and Learning (Routledge, 1994), won the Times Educational Supplement/ NASEN book of the year award. Dr Roger Hancock is an education consultant in London, UK. He has worked as a primary school teacher, a lecturer in higher education, a project co-ordinator and a researcher. His research interests include the role of teaching assistants in primary schools. Dr Pamela J. Harris is the Assistant Director for Teacher Preparation at the Mary Lou Fulton Teachers College at Arizona State University, USA. She teaches courses in special education methodology and assessment. Her research interests include reading, behaviour and assessment. Carol Hayden is Professor in Applied Social Research at the Institute of Criminal Justice Studies (ICJS), University of Portsmouth, UK. She previously worked as a secondary school teacher. Her key books include Children in Trouble (2007) and Crime, Anti-Social Behaviour and Schools (2011). Dr Eva Hjörne is Associate Professor and Head of the Department of Education and Special Education, University of Gothenburg, Sweden. She researches pupil health and school problems from an institutional and interactional perspective, analysing professionals’ talk and text within pupil health team meetings and classrooms. Dr Michalis Kakos is a lecturer in Education at the University of Leicester, UK, where he leads the Postgraduate Certificate Course in Citizenship Education. Michalis has taught in Pupil Referral Units and mainstream schools in Greece, the USA and the UK. Professor James M. Kauffman, University of Virginia, USA, has published widely in the fields of special education, child psychology and child development, and has served in various editorial capacities. He has a particular expertise in behavioural disorders and behaviour management techniques in the classroom. Janet Kay, Principal Lecturer at Sheffield Hallam University, UK, manages a multi-disciplinary team delivering degree courses in early childhood, childhood, youth and playwork. With a social work background, her research interests include child protection, emotional and social development, social policy and adoption. Professor Kathleen Lynne Lane, University of North Carolina, USA, has published widely. Her research focuses primarily on the design, implementation and evaluation of comprehensive, integrated, three-tiered (CI3T) models of prevention, particularly for students with and at risk for emotional and behavioural disorders. Dr Jane Leadbetter, Chair of the British Psychological Society’s Division of Educational and Child Psychology, is a tutor at the University of Birmingham, UK, and a practising educational psychologist. Her interests include developing school systems to support children with social, emotional and communication difficulties. Dr Anne Lodge is Head of the Church of Ireland College of Education, Republic of Ireland. Her publications include the co-authored Equality and Power in Schools, and Diversity at School. xiv

Contributors

She was a member of the international team that evaluated ‘the Incredible Years’ programme in Ireland. Rob Long, Devon, England, is a Chartered Educational Psychologist, consultant, lecturer, trainer and writer who works independently in schools and colleges with teachers and other professionals. His main area of interest is supporting children with social, emotional and behavioural difficulties. Dr Gale Macleod is a Senior Lecturer in SEBD at Moray House School of Education, University of Edinburgh, UK. Her major research interests are the experiences of permanently excluded pupils and multi-disciplinary approaches to understanding disruptive behaviour. She is co-author of The Social Agenda of the School. Dr Gillean McCluskey is a lecturer and Deputy Head of the Institute for Education, Community and Society, University of Edinburgh, UK. Her main research is in school discipline, exclusion, disaffection and restorative practices. She has taught in mainstream schools and alternative settings for young people at risk. Dr Jane McSherry, Head of the Inclusion Service, Wandsworth Children’s Services, London, UK, has published books for teachers on practical approaches to challenging behaviours in mainstream schools and Learning Support Units. For many years she was an independent educational behaviour consultant. Dr Holly Mariah Menzies is an associate professor at California State University, Los Angeles, USA, in the Division of Special Education and Counseling. Her research interests include systematic support for students at risk for behavioural difficulties and the efficacy of inclusive placements for students with disabilities. Jenny Mosley from Wiltshire, UK, is a trainer, consultant and writer on developing social, emotional and behaviour skills in the classroom. She is the author of many popular practical texts, including Turn Your School Round and Quality Circle Time in the Primary Classroom. Dr Zara Niwano, Wiltshire, UK, now undertakes writing projects, research and website management for Jenny Mosley Consultancies and Positive Press Ltd. Before that she was a science administrator, teacher and worked on an educational therapeutics project (called ‘A Quiet Place’). Dr Wendy Peia Oakes is a research associate in special education at Vanderbilt University, USA. Her research focuses on comprehensive, integrated, three-tiered models of prevention and professional development for teachers and administrators supporting students with learning and behavioural difficulties. Barrie A. O’Connor was Associate Professor, School of Education and Professional Studies, Griffith University, Australia. Continuing to research, he is now an Adjunct Associate Professor, School of Education, The University of Queensland and remains on the editorial board of the Emotional & Behavioural Difficulties journal. Professor Terje Ogden works at the Institute of Psychology, University of Oslo, Norway, and is research director at the Norwegian Centre for Child Behavioural Development. Since xv

Contributors

1998 he has directed the national evaluation of empirically supported programmes targeting children with serious behaviour problems. James Park, London, UK, is founding Director of Antidote, which he has led through its phases as a campaigning group, a research organization and a social enterprise. His publications include The Emotional Literacy Handbook, which came out of Antidote’s work. Dr Louise Porter, Queensland, Australia, is a consultant psychologist, in private practice, who delivers professional development and conference presentations. Previously a senior lecturer at Flinders University, her publications include books on children’s behavioural difficulties and teacher-parent collaboration. Professor Sheila Riddell is Director of the Centre for Research in Education, Inclusion and Diversity at the University of Edinburgh, UK, where she has worked for the past eight years. Her research focuses on equality and social justice in relation to education, lifelong learning and employment. Dr Bill Rogers, Honorary Fellow of Melbourne University, Australia, is an independent education consultant. He has worked in many challenging schools as a mentor teacher and written a number of books on behaviour management, discipline, colleague support and teachers’ stress. Professor Richard Rose is Director of the Centre for Education and Research, University of Northampton, UK, and Director of Project IRIS (Inclusive Research in Irish Schools), Ireland. He was Visiting Professor at the Hong Kong Institute of Education and has published widely on inclusion and special educational needs. Professor Égide Royer works at the Faculty of Education at University Laval, Quebec, Canada. He is currently teaching on the topic of behavioural problems in schools and investigating teachers’ pre- and in-service training in classroom interventions that prevent behavioural problems. Professor Roger Säljö is Dean of the Faculty of Education, University of Gothenburg, Sweden. His research interests include studies of learning, institutional discourse and categorisation practices from a sociocultural perspective. He is an editor of the journal Learning, Culture and Social Interaction. Dr Gary Shereshevsky practices in New York, USA, in neuropsychological assessment, rehabilitation and psychotherapy, as well as researching neuropsychological rehabilitation efficacy. His PhD in these areas is from St Petersburg State University, Russia. Dr Michael Shevlin is a Senior Lecturer in the School of Education, Trinity College, Dublin, Republic of Ireland. Published widely, he works in initial teacher education and teaches at master’s level. Michael is currently working on a longitudinal study (Project IRIS) on inclusive education in Ireland. Professor Roger Slee is Director of the Victoria Institute for Education, Diversity and Lifelong Learning, Victoria University, Australia. Before that he was Chair of Inclusive Education, University of London. Roger has written numerous books and articles and is founding Editor of the International Journal of Inclusive Education. xvi

Contributors

Professor Paul Stallard is an Honorary Fellow at the Science Studies Centre, Department of Psychology, University of Bath, UK. He is editor of the journal Child and Adolescent Mental Health. His many publications include A Clinician’s Guide to ‘Think Good Feel Good’: The Use of CBT with Children and Young People. Marilyn Tew is Development Director of Antidote, UK. A former assistant headteacher and researcher associated with the University of Bristol, her role at Antidote involves training and consultancy work. Her latest book is School Effectiveness: Supporting Student Success Through Emotional Literacy. Dr Jodi Tommerdahl completed her PhD in neurolinguistics at la Sorbonne (Paris) and formerly directed the master’s degree in Speech and Language Difficulties at the University of Birmingham, UK. She is currently an Associate Professor at the University of Texas in Arlington, USA. Professor John Visser, for many years in charge of training educators specialising in EBD at the University of Birmingham, UK, now works part time at the University of Northampton. Well known as a speaker and consultant, he has published extensively on behavioural issues, differentiation and inclusion. Professor Janice Wearmouth, the University of Bedfordshire, UK, has taught and researched for many years in mainstream schools and universities. She was Director of the Centre for Curriculum and Teaching Studies at the Open University, and then Professor of Education at Victoria University of Wellington in New Zealand. Dr Marc Willmann works at Humboldt University, Berlin, Germany, training special educators. His current research focuses on concepts and methods of teaching students with EBDs, evaluation of special schools’ effectiveness, school development and special education consultation services. Dr Mickie Wong-Lo is an Assistant Professor of Special Education and the Undergraduate Special Education Program Coordinator at Northeastern Illinois University, Chicago, USA. Her research interests include designing school-wide strategies for children with EBD and reducing cyberbullying and school violence.

xvii

Abbreviations

ABA ABC ADD ADHD AIDS ASD ASN BESD

applied behaviour analysis antecedents, behaviour and consequences (behaviourist theory) attention deficit disorder attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder acquired immune deficiency syndrome autistic spectrum disorders additional support needs (Scottish equivalent of SENs) behavioural, emotional and social difficulties (England government’s term in 2012 for EBD) BIP Behavior Improvement Plan (USA) CAMHS Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services CBT cognitive behaviour therapy CD conduct disorder CHADD children and adults with ADHD CI3T comprehensive integrated three-tier model to address learning and behaviour problems (USA) CLASI capable; listened to; accepted; safe; included (framework for assessing school ethos) CPD continuing professional development CoS circle of support (variant of circle time) CYWS Child and Youth Welfare Services (Germany) DAMP deficits in attention, motor control and perception DfE/DCSF/DfES Department for Education (England), previously known as Department for Children, Schools and Families and before that Department for Education and Skills DoH Department of Health (UK) DSM Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of American Psychiatric Association EBD emotional and behavioural difficulties (or disorders, disabilities, disturbance or development) ED emotional disabilities EEG electroencephalography EP educational psychologist ESD emotional and social development (German equivalent of EBD) FA functional assessment FBA functional behaviour assessment

xviii

Abbreviations

FFI HMI IDEA LA/LEA LRE MRI MST NEET NICE OCD ODD OECD Ofsted PISA PMTO PPP PRU PSHE PTSD PVR SDQ SEAL SEBD SED SENs SENCo SES SEU SFBA/SFBT SLCN SLD SLI TA UK US(A) WHO YJB YOT

Framework for Intervention Her Majesty’s Inspectorate of schools (England) Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (USA) Local Authority (superseded Local Education Authorities when the 2004 Children Act created unified education and children’s social services) least restrictive environment magnetic resonance imaging (brain scanning) multisystemic therapy not in education, employment or training (UK) National Institute for Health and Clinical Excellence (UK) obsessive compulsive disorder oppositional defiant disorder Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development Office for Standards in Education (the English government’s inspectorate also responsible for inspecting children’s homes/services) Programme for International Student Assessment Parent Management Training Oregon Positive Parenting Program (‘Triple P’) pupil referral unit (special unit for children with behavioural difficulties, usually excluded from school—England and Wales) personal, social and health education post-traumatic stress disorder pupil voice research Strengths and Difficulties Questionnaire (Goodman’s) Social and Emotional Aspects of Learning (England) social, emotional and behavioural difficulties severe emotional disturbance (USA) special educational needs Special Educational Needs Co-ordinator (England and Wales—teacher in charge of SENs) socio-economic status Social Exclusion Unit (England) solution-focused brief approaches/brief therapy speech, language and communication needs speech and language difficulties specific language impairment teaching assistant United Kingdom United States (of America) World Health Organization Youth Justice Board (England) Youth offending team (England)

xix

1 Introduction Dilemmas and scope of the Companion Ted Cole, Harry Daniels and John Visser

‘Disturbing’, ‘disturbed’, ‘disruptive’, ‘deviant’, ‘challenging’, ‘troublesome’, ‘troubled’, ‘bad’, ‘sad’, ‘mad’, ‘maladjusted’, ‘mentally ill’, ‘morally defective’.

These are just some of the value-laden epithets associated over the last century with children and young people to whom, in many developed countries, that confusing term ‘EBD’ has been attached (Cole 1989, 2005; Kauffman 2001). It is often a harmful label that can shape and distort how pupils view and develop their identities and how professionals and peers see such children (see Thomas 2005; Chapter 3 and Chapter 7, this volume). The long search for a better label continues—but could prove futile (see Chapter 2, this volume). Because the letters EBD (taken here to represent ‘emotional and behavioural difficulties’1) have wide international currency (Clough et al. 2005; Chapter 9, this volume), the term is adopted in the title of this Companion and is the ‘default’ descriptor in the chapters below. EBD is used rather than longer possibilities that might capture more of the complex aetiology of these pupils’ needs, such as ‘social, emotional and behavioural difficulties’ (SEBD—long used in Scotland), or ‘behavioural, emotional and social difficulties’ (BESD—employed in 2012 by the England government). Some contributors to this book hold strong feelings about the choice of letters and their preferences have been respected, resulting in a necessary inconsistent usage. The editors are aware that EBD holds only limited meaning for non-educationalists, who are likely to opt for medical abbreviations such as CD (conduct disorders) or, at times, ODD (oppositional defiant disorder), or letters denoting other psychiatric diagnostic categories (see American Psychiatric Association 2000). Others may choose a loose usage of ADHD (attention deficit/ hyperactivity disorder)—particularly parents, who can prefer labels, ‘which suggest an underlying medical aetiology for which no one can be blamed’ (Chapter 7, p. 63). In short, although needed as an aid to the planning and delivery of services (see Chapter 2 and Chapter 9, this volume), categorization and associated labelling remain and are likely to stay contentious issues. In contrast, there is wide international agreement about the continuing challenge presented to educationalists by children2 with EBD. This topical issue relates to wider subjects of acute political concern such as: perceived declining discipline in schools; school and wider social exclusion; the extent to which the inclusive education in ‘mainstream’ schools of those with special educational needs (SENs) should and can be taken; increasing mental health 1

Ted Cole, Harry Daniels and John Visser

difficulties in children; parenting practice and youth crime; and poverty linking to social disadvantage. Gable, Bullock and Wong-Lo (Chapter 19, this volume) write: Students3 with EBD evidence behavioral, social/interpersonal, and academic problems that pose formidable challenges to school personnel … Moreover, EBD often co-occurs with learning disabilities, attention deficit-hyperactive disorders, conduct disorders, anxiety disorders, and/or depression. Not surprisingly, students with EBD are probably less successful in school than any other group of students—with or without disabilities … They receive a disproportionally greater number of office disciplinary referrals, fail more high-stakes tests, are retained, suspended, and expelled in greater numbers, and are more likely to drop out of school than students in other disability categories … Their post-schooling adjustment is abysmal—punctuated by poor job performance and troubled interpersonal relationships. Too often, the trajectory of problem behavior of children and adolescents with EBD is all too predictable—it multiplies, intensifies, and diversifies. (Chapter 19, p. 171) However, as Gable et al. stress, the situation is far from hopeless. Indeed this Companion offers substantial evidence to counter the pessimism which the quotation above might induce. The book’s content should encourage readers working in—or in support of—schools, to investigate and reflect on the social, emotional and sometimes biological underpinnings that give rise to a child’s difficulties, whether ‘acted out’ or internalized, to look beyond the surface behaviour, to read about useful theory and practice. A shoulder shrug or passive fatalism is not merited and educators and other professionals should reject any notion of predestination—whether inspired by Calvin, depressing social statistics or by neuroscience indicating the crucial nature of early nurture and care. The children and young people with whom we work are not condemned to travel along a pre-ordained track. A cynical view would suggest the direction of such a path: inherited genes or flawed parenting engender attachment, communication and interpersonal difficulties in the two- to four-year-old child; the six- to eight-year-old child exhibits learning difficulties in primary school, which steadily transform into severe behavioural difficulties as the young person navigates secondary (‘high school’) education; the teenager becomes increasingly disaffected, alienated and is likely to proceed on leaving school to a life not in education, employment or even training (NEET).4 Criminal status might constitute the peak of this crescendo of unfortunate unmet needs. Fortunately, this negative trajectory, as many chapters below affirm, can be interrupted and the child diverted into more positive directions, through the application of tested theory to interventions—and troubled young lives can be transformed. Damage to social, emotional and cognitive development is sometimes repairable and young people can be helped by skilled professionals to embark on ‘normal’ pro-social and more successful life paths. Thorough formative assessment, interacting with well-honed educational and social programmes can make a positive difference. Essential work with troubled families, smoother multi-agency (‘wrap-around’) care and the professional development of staff working in schools can also be effective counterweights. The challenges are often formidable but not insurmountable. Where possible, intervention will be grounded in extensive, well-designed and -executed research, but, as often remains the case (given the expense of such research), practice also needs to learn from accounts of the experience, garnered over generations, of skilled and caring practitioners. It is therefore appropriate for this volume to include a variety of material. Some chapters are firmly rooted in data-driven research; others reflect theory which might invoke criticism for 2

Introduction

not citing measurable evidence. Other chapters, looking at relatively new areas, are supported by qualitative research that is limited in scope. Some chapters are written by academics, who are well versed in research, psychometrics and statistics, but choose to adopt a more philosophical tone as they explore the usage of terms or speculate on future needs. Other chapters, reporting ‘promising’ models of school practice, are supported mainly by the testament of school inspectors, proponents of the model and parents. If the editors had only chosen material for this Companion that was extensively tested and underpinned by ‘hard’ statistical research data, they would have had to exclude much knowledge and experience with which educationalists, policy-makers and researchers, in the editors’ view, should be conversant. We remain dubious of the ostensibly sensible claim that all educational practice should be ‘evidence-based’, when, in practice, the means of gathering ‘evidence’ is often flawed. In short, professional accounts of the ‘art and craft’ of working with children with EBD and examples of small qualitative research are appropriately included in this book. Although the Companion is designed to be of interest to academic researchers, it is also intended to be an accessible resource for policy-makers and practitioners seeking a deeper understanding of the issues surrounding EBD. The editors are mindful that many readers will ‘dip into’ this volume, focusing on chapters of particular interest to them, indeed on occasion will access and sometimes purchase electronic versions of perhaps only one or two chapters. Hence, each chapter is designed to ‘stand alone’. While this collection of chapters is substantial and addresses a wide range of issues, there were limits to the book’s length and important areas had to be excluded. History was one casualty. Much can be learnt about the art and craft of teaching and caring for children with EBD as well as about policy by studying the past. History can help understanding of the present and the avoidance of repeating earlier mistakes (Kauffman 2001). As long ago as 1906, the Englishman Lord Acton, claimed ‘History must be our deliverer not only from the undue influence of other times but from the undue influence of our own’ (Carr 1961: 44). It can demonstrate how ‘good practice’ is being ignored; highlight that ideology (such as faith in ‘full inclusion’?) can blind professionals to uncomfortable evidence. It also highlights factors associated with effective practice, seen on both sides of the Atlantic—and Pacific—which endure through time. Readers who wish to look at the history of EBD in England are referred to Cole (1989, 2005) and Cole and Visser (1999); for history in the USA to Kauffman (2001); and in Germany, to references at the end of Chapter 9 in this volume. Another omission is residential care and education. This inter-disciplinary approach was once the bedrock of provision but is now unfashionable and arguably undesirable given child abuse scandals in various countries, practical difficulties in staffing and maintaining well-ordered communities, fears about ‘contagion’ (disturbed children learning more abnormal behaviours from their peers in a close community), and the expense of operating this model. Unsurprisingly it is used less frequently in Western countries, including England (Cole et al. 2003), but is still a necessary part of provision for a minority of children with EBD in the view of the England government (Department for Children, Schools and Families 2008) and Willmann (Chapter 9, this volume). It is difficult but possible to provide high-quality, residential environments (Cole et al. 1998). When done well, this approach can ameliorate deep EBD through sharing the care and development of troubled young people between struggling families and teachers working closely with social pedagogues or skilled residential social workers (Cooper 1993). The attention of readers is drawn to pioneering work on environmental therapy and creating therapeutic milieux, and to helpful concepts such as ‘life-space interviewing’ and ‘emotional first aid’. The routine events of daily life—that is, how adults help a child wake up, prepare for school, share mealtimes, experience break times and leisure, relax in the evening and go to 3

Ted Cole, Harry Daniels and John Visser

bed—can be used by skilled practitioners to nurture a child, to build feelings of security and belonging, and to develop social—and indeed cognitive—skills (see, for example, Redl 1966; or Cole et al. 1998). Given the clear overlaps between mental health difficulties and EBD, there could have been material, beyond Stallard (Chapter 14, this volume), devoted to helping children who are anxious, depressed, have eating disorders and who self-harm. Too often the needs of such children, who also have EBD, are overlooked (Department for Children, Schools and Families and Department of Health 2008). Cole and Knowles (2011) discuss mental health issues and EBD from an English perspective. A chapter on restorative approaches (extending Wearmouth, Berryman and Glynn, Chapter 31, this volume) would also have been welcome. The advantages and disadvantages of psychometric testing, solution-focused therapy and motivational interviewing (mentioned in Leadbetter’s Chapter 15, this volume), or mindfulness-based cognitive therapy or positive psychology (see Cole and Knowles 2011) would have justified treatment. More might have been offered on how educators and support workers can engage pupils with EBD in the classroom or work with families to develop parenting skills. It is likely that readers, particularly those from countries other than the UK, would suggest a long list of other potential subjects. Further important topics were covered at an international conference in Oxford in September 2010 (see Visser 2011). As it was, prioritisation was necessary, so the editors of this Companion invited writers from contrasting countries to focus on topics which, in the light of our extensive research, were considered to give a rounded overview of key aspects of understanding and responding to EBD. Contributors to Section I were asked to consider why there was a need for the label, what it meant (including its intersection with ADHD), both to those ascribing the label and those in receipt of it, and to try to quantify the number of children identified. At least brief coverage of the important links between EBD and gender, social disadvantage and juvenile crime was also needed (the links between minority ethnic groups and EBD is covered later, in Chapter 31). We also sought to outline the range of provision made for such children and to ask how far those with the label could be included into ‘regular’ (‘ordinary’) classrooms in ‘mainstream’ schools (see Chapter 9). The theoretical content and coverage of early child development in Section II reflect the editors’ recognition of the usefulness of encouraging practitioners and policy-makers to bring a ‘biopsychosocial’ perspective to their work (Cooper 2005; Chapter 4, this volume). Practitioners are helped by looking beyond ‘surface’, externalised behaviours and to recognise that EBDs are to an extent created and later influenced by the bio (e.g. genetic inheritance and possibly an individual’s particular mix of biochemistry), the psycho (e.g. distorted thought patterns and emotional damage caused by abuse or neglect), and the social (e.g. attachment difficulties, parental separation, peer and family influences at school, home and in local communities). The detailed mechanisms whereby the three elements interact have yet to be fully explained, but the bio, psycho and social are each clearly of great importance. Context is crucial to how children with EBD act but there is likely to be some constancy in their thoughts, feelings and behaviour across different situations. There are, of course, many interpretations of the way in which context impacts on the individual. Cole (1996) distinguishes between the notion of context defined as that which surrounds and notions of context defined as that which weaves together. In doing so, he draws on the ecosystemic legacy of Bronfenbrenner (1979) on the ecology of human development, which portrayed layers of context in concentric circles. This image of progressive wrapping of the individual in ever-wider context is transformed by Cole into the following position: 4

Introduction

… the combination of goals, tools and setting … constitutes simultaneously the context of behaviours and ways in which cognition can be related to that context. Here we have implications of active construction of context in action. The way in which individuals or groups use artefacts in effect transforms the model of contexts that obtain at any one time in a particular setting. Culture is made rather than being something which is ‘out there’. (Cole 1996: 137) There remains a need, which cannot be explored here, beyond brief discussion in Chapter 3 by Slee, to go beyond biopsychosocial or the related ecosystemic theory (Cooper et al. 1994) and to draw upon socio-cultural theorists and the work of Vygotsky (see, for example, Daniels 2001). Section III of the Companion covers a wide range of topics on the assessment of pupils with EBD and the forms of intervention, which can be of benefit. Content in many of these chapters can be connected back to aspects of theory outlined in Section II. It is important that assessment and intervention are not seen as discrete entities, but rather as interactive so that practice in the classroom is governed by the virtuous cycle of a ‘do-review-learn-apply’ approach (Dennison and Kirk 1990; Daniels et al. 1999). Section III further amplifies the importance of context on children’s EBD. What happens at the whole-school level (a school’s culture and practices); how schools approach the promotion of social and emotional as well as ‘academic’ development; how teachers think, feel and behave (their values and attitudes to pupils with EBD); how far teachers understand the psychology of learning and why some of their pupils encounter severe barriers to learning; how school staff communicate (using the spoken word and non-verbal means); how far children are encouraged to participate in planning their own learning, and how far the pupils’ views are respected and listened to by adults; how skilled staff are at identifying and responding to triggers that might set off an outpouring of angry and disruptive behaviour— and if a child does ‘explode’ in anger, what responses help to minimise the damage to the child and others in the classroom or playground. The Section highlights the ongoing interweaving of the quality of teaching, learning difficulties, social and emotional feelings, and pupil behaviour. The chapters in Section IV focus upon specific approaches for which there is increasing evidence of effectiveness (although much more research would be beneficial): nurture groups and circles of support, targeted at developing the social and emotional aspects of at-risk children, usually in mainstream school contexts. Restorative practice is also sketched, as the second part of a chapter on the issues surrounding the over-representation in EBD statistics of pupils from some minority ethnic groups. A volunteer mentoring project that supported children with EBD is then outlined. Finally, attention is drawn to a major development in the UK—the dramatic increase, in the last decade, in the use of teaching assistants/classroom aides, in support of pupils identified as having behavioural difficulties. Section V moves beyond the school gates to the wider context enveloping and interacting with the child with EBD. This is a crucial area for teachers and other school-based professionals to consider, even if it tends to be colleagues from other professions who undertake most of the work with the families of pupils with EBD. If the biopsychosocial and ecosystemic approaches are to be respected, there need to be effective multi-disciplinary interventions, which promote parenting skills and seek to build bridges between often alienated mothers and fathers and their child’s school. This last section ends with two chapters dedicated to the crucial topic of developing the professional skills of teachers. Consideration is given to the essential ingredients which should govern ‘continuing professional development’ (CPD), and how, too often, politics can be an obstacle to addressing teacher needs. The Companion might end with the needs of the adults who work with the children with EBD, but ‘last is not least’. People rather than places matter most. It has been a theme running 5

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through the many research projects of the editors (e.g. Cole et al. 1998; Daniels et al. 1999; Daniels et al. 2003), and stressed by Royer (Chapter 36, this volume; see also Chapter 8, this volume), that children with EBD are helped by building warm relationships and sharing their school lives with skilled practitioners who are caring, well motivated and allowed some professional independence. In relation to this last point, Eileen Munro has argued that effective service delivery depends on sound professional judgement: Services have become so standardised that they do not provide the required range of responses to the variety of need that is presented. This review [of child protection and care in England] recommends a radical reduction in the amount of central prescription to help professionals move from a compliance culture to a learning culture, where they have more freedom to use their expertise in assessing need and providing the right help. (Munro 2011: 6–7) The same important sentiments would seem applicable to educators working with troubled children. One of the editors suggested in relation to England that practitioners working with children with EBD: are the heart of effective intervention. Altering local authority structures, arguing the relative merits of mainstream over special, specialist or academy status, school federation over local authority supported, state provided over voluntary or independent, are of secondary importance and have led to much unhelpful and disruptive reorganisation over the last three decades. Where successful work has taken place—as it so often has—it has mainly been down to people not places nor patterns of organisation. These practitioners are energised, efficient, expert and empathetic, are well led and are in control of their settings. Key members of staff have often been in post for some time and provide the security and stability so badly needed by children who have experienced so much unpredictability and trauma in their lives. (Cole and Knowles 2011: 25) This quotation is inspired by the editors’ extensive work in a largely English context over some decades (but we have studied and observed practice in a range of countries). We concede there is an English bias to many of the chapters of this volume,5 but our reading and research does indicate numerous and at times uncanny similarities between past and present issues relating to both the challenges presented and the responses invoked in many developed countries. We are grateful to the 52 contributors from 15 different countries and four continents who have made this international Companion possible, and believe that studying the perspectives of writers from beyond our particular national borders will broaden understanding and should inform policy and practice closer to home.

Notes 1 In the USA and sometimes in other countries the ‘D’ in EBD represents ‘disorders’ or ‘disabilities’. In the UK, many educators and policy-makers feel that these words have connotations of illness and that ‘difficulties’ is preferable. 2 To avoid the long-winded phrases ‘children and young people’ or ‘children and youth’, the term ‘children’ is used by the editors to include babies, pre-schoolers, children and teenagers up to the age of 18. In the chapters below, we have allowed the writers to opt for their particular preferred terms. 6

Introduction

3 The editors choose to use the word ‘pupil’ to distinguish children still at school from young people (‘students’) in ‘further’ or ‘higher education’ (at college or university). However, where writers from the USA, Australia and some other countries find it natural to describe ‘pupils’ as ‘students’, or use that recent addition in England to educational parlance, ‘learner’, their preferences have been respected. 4 The acronym NEET is another unwelcome recent addition to the lexicon of commonly used derogatory labels in England. 5 Scotland, Wales and, of course, the Republic of Ireland have different educational systems to the one operating in England.

References American Psychiatric Association (2000) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (4th edn). Washington: APA. Bronfenbrenner, U. (1979) The Ecology of Human Development. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Carr, E.H. (1961) What is History? Harmondsworth: Pelican. Clough, P., Garner, P., Pardeck, J. and Yuen, F. (2005) Handbook of Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. London: Sage. Cole, M. (1996) Cultural Psychology: A Once and Future Discipline. Cambridge, MA: The Belknap Press of Harvard University. Cole, T. (1989) Apart or A Part? Integration and the Growth of British Special Education. Milton Keynes: Open University Press. ——(2005) ‘Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties: An Historical Perspective’. In P. Clough et al., Handbook of Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. London: Sage, chapter 3, 32–44. Cole, T., Daniels, H. and Visser, J. (2003) ‘Patterns of provision for pupils with behavioural difficulties in England: a study of government statistics and behaviour support plan data’. Oxford Review of Education 29, 2: 187–205. Cole, T. and Knowles, B. (2011) How to Help Children and Young People with Complex Behaviour Difficulties: A Guide for Practitioners in Educational Settings. London: Jessica Kingsley Publishers. Cole, T. and Visser, J. (1999) ‘The history of special provision for pupils with EBD in England: What has proved effective?’ Behavioural Disorders 25, 1: 56–64. Cole, T., Visser, J. and Upton, G. (1998) Effective Schooling for Pupils with Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. London: David Fulton Publishers. Cooper, P. (1993) Effective Schooling for Disaffected Pupils. London: Routledge. ——(2005) ‘Biology and Behaviour: the Educational Relevance of a Biopsychosocial Perspective’. In P. Clough et al., Handbook of Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. London: Sage, chapter 7, 105–22. Cooper, P., Smith, C. and Upton, G. (1994) Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. London: Routledge. Daniels, H. (2001) Vygotsky and Pedagogy. London: Routledge. Daniels, H., Cole, T., Sellman, E., Sutton, J., Visser, J., with Bedward, J. (2003) Study of Young People Permanently Excluded from School. London: DfES. Daniels, H., Visser, J., Cole, T. and de Reybekill, N. (1999) Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties in Mainstream Schools. Research Report 90. London: DfEE. Dennison, B. and Kirk, R. (1990) Do Review Learn Apply: a simple guide to experiential learning. Oxford: Blackwell. Department for Children, Schools and Families (2008) The Education of Children and Young People with Behavioural, Emotional and Social Difficulties as a Special Educational Need. London: DCSF. Department for Children, Schools and Families, and Department of Health (2008) With Children and Young People in Mind: the Final Report of the National CAMHS Review. London: DCSF/DoH. Kauffman, J.M. (2001) Characteristics of Emotional and Behavioural Disorders of Children and Youth (7th edition). Upper Saddle River, NJ: Merrill Prentice Hall. Munro, E. (2011) The Munro Review of Child Protection: Final Report: A child-centred system. London: DfE. www.education.gov.uk/publications/standard. Redl, F. (1966) When We Deal with Children. New York: Free Press. Thomas, G. (2005) ‘What Do We Mean by “EBD”?’ In P. Clough et al., Handbook of Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. London: Sage. Visser, J. (ed.) (2011) ‘Transforming Troubled Lives’, Special Issue. Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 16, 3.

7

Section I

Definitions, labelling and patterns of provision

Introduction to Section I Ted Cole, Harry Daniels and John Visser

This section delves deeper into the chronic dilemmas surrounding definitions of EBD (emotional and behavioural difficulties) and deciding which children are accurately placed in this imprecise category. Long ago, the Underwood Report noted the difficulties in Britain: EBD (then called ‘maladjustment’) was sometimes seen as a ‘within-child’ medical problem, but was also ‘a term describing an individual’s relation at a particular time to the people and circumstances which make up his environment’ (Ministry of Education 1955: 22). Forty years later, the English Department for Education (1994) offered a vague summary definition: Children with EBD are on a continuum. Their problems are clearer and greater than sporadic naughtiness or moodiness and yet not so great as to be classed as mental illness. (Department for Education 1994: 4) The English government’s current BESD (behavioural, emotional and social difficulties) guidance suggests that EBD is: a learning difficulty where children and young people demonstrate features of emotional and behavioural difficulties such as: being withdrawn or isolated, disruptive and disturbing; being hyperactive and lacking concentration; having immature social skills; or presenting challenging behaviours arising from other complex special needs. (Department for Children, Schools and Families 2008: paragraph 49) Indicating the links between EBD and mental health, this guidance says that the term can include mental health/medical conditions such as ‘conduct disorders’, ADHD (attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder), school phobia, self-harm or depression, or ODD (oppositional defiance disorder) or Tourette’s syndrome (paragraph 58). Given the wide scope of the factors mentioned above—and apparently echoed in other countries’ definitions—it is unsurprising that the important dilemmas involved dominate debate in some of the chapters of this section. James Kauffman (Chapter 2) gives an insightful account of the advantages and disadvantages of categorization and labelling, concluding that descriptors are needed to discuss problems and 11

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appropriate responses to them. Improving understanding of terms such as EBD is needed rather a futile search for enduring new euphemisms. Worrying about what he sees as ‘an ever widening spectrum of EBD’, Roger Slee (Chapter 3) wants more emphasis on the analysis of the social in ‘biopsychosocial’, arguing persuasively that labelling and categorisation occur against a powerful macro-social context linking to the marketisation of education. He sees special educators and psychologists, responding to the wishes of school leaders and parents, ‘net-widening’ and drawn into the ‘accelerated disablement’ of children, to win extra resources or to exempt pupils with special educational needs (SENs) from published exam results. Katherine Bilton and Paul Cooper (Chapter 4) see the upside of ADHD as a label that enables pupils to receive legally guaranteed additional help. After describing the symptoms of ADHD and then outlining the historical evolution of their preferred term, SEBD (social, emotional and behavioural difficulties), they argue that ADHD should be seen as a valuable sub-component of SEBD, which helps schools to focus on attention and hyperactivity difficulties and to provide constructive interventions. Eva Hjörne and Roger Säljö (Chapter 5) similarly start with the macro level, sketching the history of educational categorisation in Sweden and noting its usage as a means of accessing additional resources. They then move to the micro level and their study of how a school’s pupil health team come informally to ascribe the ADHD label to pupils, impacting on how adults and other children view the labelled child. These authors, like Slee in Chapter 3, worry about ‘the medicalization of problems’. This is a concern shared by the editors of this Companion—and is highlighted by the growing number of children diagnosed, one fears at times without careful assessment across a range of social contexts, as ADHD and leading to the prescription of drugs. The NICE (National Institute for Health and Clinical Excellence 2009) guidance on ADHD recommended that methylphenidate is the first-line treatment for school-age children and young people with severe ADHD, but only as part of a ‘comprehensive treatment plan that includes psychological, behavioural and educational advice and interventions’. We agree with Steven Rose: ‘Ritalin’ no more ‘cures’ ADHD than aspirin cures toothache. Masking the psychic pain that disruptive behaviour indicates can provide a breathing space for parents, teachers and the child to negotiate a new and better relationship, but if the opportunity to do this is not seized, we will once again find ourselves trying to adjust the mind rather than adjust society. (Rose 2005: 263) The real concern here is that far too many young people will find themselves in receipt of a prescription for medication in the absence of social and psychological intervention. In Chapter 6, Carol Hayden looks at the crucial social factors in the family, local community and at school that contribute to a child’s EBD and which lead many young people with the label into crime and sometimes incarceration in adulthood. Sheila Riddell and Gillean McCluskey (Chapter 7) are also concerned about social factors, supporting the Scottish practice of prefixing EBD with ‘S’ (social). They note how SEBD is disproportionately identified ‘amongst those at the social margins’, often coming from the most impoverished parts of Scotland or from the ranks of children ‘looked after’, i.e. in the care of local authorities. They also highlight, as Hayden had for England, that boys far outnumber girls in the EBD statistics. They end with concerns that practices in Scottish schools designed to help can in fact lead to greater marginalisation. A theme of this Companion is the importance of listening and responding to the views of the children with EBD. In a second view from Scotland, Gale Macleod (Chapter 8) reports her research into how young people themselves view being labelled as EBD. Her findings are a 12

Introduction to Section I

mixture of the reassuring and the disturbing. What matters most is the context of the labelling and the understanding and relationship of the labeller to the young person as well as the uses to which the label is put. The dilemmas surrounding categorisation and labelling, described in this Companion’s early chapters, give rise to diverging estimates of how many children should be identified as having serious EBD. In 2012 head teachers in England continued to complete an annual census form, specifying how many of their pupils have a ‘statement of special educational needs’, which brings with it legal entitlements to special support, and also to specify how children are placed on ‘School Action Plus’, a stage intended for children with pronounced but less acute special educational needs (also justifying additional support). Using this annual yardstick, statistics for England suggested 158,015 children in January 2011 or 1.9 per cent of the total school-age population as having significant BESD in state-funded schools. Some 14,000 young people, usually escaping the label BESD but who have often been excluded from school, are placed in off-site special provision called ‘Pupil Referral Units’. If these are added in, then over 2 per cent of English school children can be said by this measure to have severe EBD. The editors’ research (e.g. Cole et al. 2003; Daniels et al. 2003), agreeing with Marc Willmann (Chapter 9), suggests that there are almost certainly many thousands more disaffected and disruptive pupils who are not given the label, plus those with internalising mental health difficulties that are easy to overlook or ignore. If these are included then we would tend to agree with Kauffman (2001), for the USA, that the total falls within the 3–6 per cent range (Lane et al., Chapter 20, this volume, accept Kauffman’s 6 per cent suggestion). Yet Cooper (2006) estimates the number of school-age children in the UK and USA with what he termed ‘emotional difficulties’, at a far higher level, which is in line with Willmann’s observation (in Chapter 9) that ‘worldwide research findings show prevalence rates of clinical psychiatric disorders between 10 and 20 per cent’ (p. 76). The lower 10 per cent figure agrees with the Department for Children, Schools and Families (2008: 20) claim that probably 10 per cent of children between age five and 15 have a ‘clinically diagnosable mental disorder that is associated with considerable distress and substantial interference with personal functions, such as family and social relationship’. In relation to Germany, Willmann finds it ‘striking that within the school system, the number of students identified as having EBD is less than a 10th of the lowest estimated psychiatric prevalence of behavioural disorders’ (Chapter 9, p. 76). Slee’s comments on ‘net widening’ and ‘accelerated disablement’ come to mind and this is an area where further research seems needed. In England, the Education Act 1996 called for more children with SENs (including those with EBD) to be educated in mainstream schools. In practice, in the UK this has proved an insuperable challenge, an experience mirrored, as Willmann shows, in Germany and other countries. The majority of children with EBD continue in mainstream education and more could be accommodated there (Cole et al. 2001). However, for a minority of children with EBD continued placement in regular classes would not seem to be in their interests, if they do not feel valued and wanted in the mainstream schools and if the all-important relationships between the child, the teachers and the peer group have irrevocably broken down. As the editors have argued elsewhere (e.g. Cole et al. 2003), and as Willmann does in Chapter 9, there needs to be a continuum of different educational placement options for these pupils, at times supported by inter-professional interventions.

References Cole, T., Daniels, H. and Visser, J. (2003) ‘Patterns of provision for pupils with behavioural difficulties in England: a study of government statistics and behaviour support plan data’. Oxford Review of Education 29(2): 187–205.

13

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Cole, T., Visser, J. and Daniels, H. (2001) ‘Inclusive Practice for Pupils with EBD in Mainstream Schools’. In J. Visser, H. Daniels and T. Cole (eds), Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties in Mainstream Schools. Oxford: JAI/Elsevier. Cooper, P. (2006) ‘Setting the Scene’. In M. Hunter-Carsch, Y. Tiknaz, P. Cooper and R. Sage (eds), The Handbook of Social, Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties’. London: Continuum, chapter 1: 1–13. Daniels, H., Cole, T., Sellman, E., Sutton, J., Visser, J. with Bedward, J. (2003) Study of Young People Permanently Excluded from School. London: DfES. Department for Children, Schools and Families (2008) The Education of Children and Young People with Behavioural, Emotional and Social Difficulties as a Special Educational Need. London: DCSF. Department for Education (1994) The Education of Children with Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. Circular 9/94. London: DFE. Kauffman, J.M. (2001) Characteristics of Emotional and Behavioural Disorders of Children and Youth (7th edition). Upper Saddle River, NJ: Merrill Prentice Hall. Ministry of Education (1955) Report of the Committee on Maladjusted Children (The Underwood Report). London: HMSO. National Institute for Health and Clinical Excellence (NICE) (2009) Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. Guideline 72. www.org.uk/nicemedia/pdf/CG72QRG (accessed on 08/03/10). Rose, S. (2005) The 21st-Century Brain: Explaining, Mending and Manipulating the Mind. London: Jonathan Cape.

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2 Labeling and categorizing children and youth with emotional and behavioral disorders in the USA Current practices and conceptual problems James M. Kauffman

Several issues regarding children and youth with emotional or behavioral disorders (EBD) remain controversial in the USA in the early twenty-first century. Among them are prevalence, prevention, and labeling. The data suggest that children and youth with EBD remain mostly unlabeled and grossly underserved, and that fear of false identification and labeling precludes the early identification that prevention requires (Forness et al. 2012; Kauffman 1999, 2010; Kauffman and Brigham 2009; Kauffman and Landrum 2009; Kauffman et al. 2007; Kauffman et al. 2009). However, the labeling problem must be seen in the broader context of special education’s difficulties in the USA. Special education is now often denigrated by both the political far left and the far right. Some on the far left see disproportionate representation as prima facie evidence that special education is racist, sexist, classist, or otherwise discriminatory, or that special education denies human rights to those with disabilities. Some on the far right view special education as another example of creeping socialism, unwarranted government control, entitlement that destroys initiative and independence, and wasteful expenditure of public funds. Special education is under attack for a variety of reasons, and opposition to labeling is a convenient pretext of both far left and far right for encouraging the belief that special education is a malicious and wasteful enterprise that should be eliminated because it has no place in an equitable and free society (see Anastasiou and Kauffman 2011; Kauffman 2009; Kauffman and Hallahan 2005). Labeling is often decried as one of the most abusive aspects of special education, primarily because labeling carries risks and mislabeling sometimes occurs. Youngsters are said to be often falsely identified and labeled, although the evidence does not seem to support that charge, at least for EBD (Kauffman 2004). Fear of false identification stems in part from a desire to avoid the stigma that a label for a negative characteristic unfailingly carries. Nevertheless, perhaps for obvious reasons, children and youth with a variety of emotional or behavioral problems in school are labeled and categorized for special education purposes. Besides the EBD label itself, which is attached to less than 1 per cent of the school-age population of the USA, more specific labels are sometimes chosen for a subset of those with EBD. The American Psychiatric 15

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Association’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (often referred to as the DSM with a Roman numeral indicating the edition, such as DSM-IV)1 has been criticized for many years. Although DSM categories may be useful to some professionals, they are not particularly helpful for special educators, who in the USA tend to use alternative categories derived from factor analytic studies of youngsters’ directly observable characteristics. The primary behavioral dimensions derived from statistical analyses—externalizing (acting out, such as antisocial conduct and hyperactivity) and internalizing (acting in, such as social withdrawal and depression)—tend to be more helpful to special educators. Although various states and localities may use their own, often confusing terminology, Kauffman and Landrum (2009) discuss the following categories or facets of behavior, which are generally recognized at the national level: (i) attention and activity disorders (including attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder, ADHD); (ii) conduct disorders (CD) (both overt and covert antisocial behavior); (iii) problems associated with adolescence (e.g. delinquency, substance abuse, early sexual activity); (iv) anxiety and related disorders (including psychiatric categories such as obsessive-compulsive disorder, OCD, post-traumatic stress disorder, PTSD, and eating disorders); (v) depression and suicidal behavior; and (vi) schizophrenia and other severe disorders (psychoses in psychiatric terminology). In the USA, autism (or autism spectrum disorder, ASD) is now considered a separate category for special education purposes, not part of EBD. In the USA, labeling and categorizing students with EBD is confused and confusing (Kauffman and Landrum 2009). This is true in many nations of the world. Nevertheless, labeling has received much scrutiny and opposition. That is, the search for alternative labels and the outcry against labeling per se have been common in special education in the USA. A common assumption is that labels such as ‘emotionally disturbed’ and other more specific labels create an expectation of misbehavior and inadequate academic performance. The lower expectation created by the label is then communicated in subtle ways to the student and demands its fulfillment— the student misbehaves and fails, as expected. However, as discussed in following paragraphs, biases, but not realities, may be created by words, and much of the concern for labels and categories is simply based on superstition, avoidance, illogic, and lack of evidence—the very sort of distorted thinking and maladaptive behavior typically associated with EBD! Labels and categories simply cannot be avoided unless we refuse to discuss students’ problems or want to discuss them in only the most vague terms (Kauffman 2011; Kauffman and Konold 2007). The issue should be how we work with the larger problem—our perceptions of the characteristics of children and youth to which we refer and our understanding of the labels we use to designate particular problems.

Conceptual and scientific issues in labeling and categorizing Basic conceptual and scientific issues regarding labels and categories are important if labels are to be addressed in helpful ways. The typical discussion of labels and categories in the USA has not dealt with the science of labels and categories—their role in communication, the evidence regarding their use, and the role of words and classification in science and communication. Thus, we must begin with some very fundamental ideas about words and categories and the consequences of using, abusing, or avoiding them. Concern about the effects of labels is clearly much older than the recognition of disability and special education or any other program designed to address disability. Moreover, labels for various phenomena and the consequences of both phenomena and words referring to them have been a matter of concern to philosophers for centuries. For example, philosopher Susan Neiman wrote: 16

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Given the difficulties of using the word [evil] responsibly, it’s easy to understand the urge to give up talk of evil altogether—were it not for the fact that we have moral needs, and one of them is calling things by their proper names. (Neiman 2002: xv) However, cause and effect are easily confused because things are often observed after they are named, leading to the logical fallacy post hoc ergo propter hoc (after the fact, therefore because of it). To the extent that words are used to label things that do not exist, they refer to imaginary phenomena. True, we can imagine things, and imagined things may influence how people behave. People’s behavior is real, as are their beliefs about the world, but their behavior may be based on false information and false belief created by words. Words can, indeed, create imaginary things, and to the extent that something is created by a word or words alone it is simply a fiction. The imagined things remain hallucinations, superstitions, or fictions; they do not exist because words describe them. People may, indeed, live wholly or partly in an imagined world, but we recognize the difference between the imaginary and the real because we can observe, confirm, and label imaginations, even if the imaginary seems (falsely) to have been called into existence by words. We realize that someone may construct an alternate reality, but the ‘reality’ they construct with words is fictional, only a seeming reality (see Anastasiou and Kauffman 2011; Manjoo 2008). We recognize that words may bias perceptions, but we call perceptions biased when they are false, not consistent with the way things truly are as confirmed by observation. To take an extreme example, we do not consider the perception that the Earth circles the Sun biased; quite the contrary, we consider the perception that the Sun circles the Earth biased because it is inconsistent with tested reality. Hence, if a word (label) for a phenomenon appears to create a reality (e.g., the Sun appearing to rise, which we label ‘sunrise’), there is controversy about whether it is better to (i) change the word(s) naming the phenomenon (e.g., change ‘sunrise’ to ‘Earth rotation,’ the assumption being that a different word will bring perceptions into better alignment with reality), or (ii) educate people about the meaning of the word (e.g., keep the word ‘sunrise’ but teach people about why the Sun only appears to rise, the assumption being that people should be helped to understand better the phenomenon to which the word refers, even if the label is technically incorrect). Of course, one can do both—change the word and the understanding. However, sometimes it is simpler to keep an older and technically inaccurate label but imbue it with more accurate meaning through education. Changing the word never changes the reality, nor does it always ensure accurate perception, even if the alternative word is technically correct. Education about the meaning of a word does not ensure that people understand it, but education is based on the idea that words do not create realities. Miseducation is another matter.

Language, categories, science, and labels The immediate problem in labeling is that nothing that exists can be talked about without language—words, which are labels. Slogans such as ‘rights without labels’ are self-contradictions; rights have no meaning without labels, and taking the slogan seriously merely ensures the absence of rights. Thus, our choice is whether to talk about any phenomenon in question or simply refuse to label it (Kauffman et al. 2008; Kauffman 2011). This may seem self-evident, but it is a matter often not considered by those who inveigh against labels. Therefore, the question becomes what word(s) to use in describing a phenomenon, not whether to label it—unless the decision is not to talk about it. As mentioned previously, given that the decision is to talk about the matter in 17

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question, there are two approaches to the problem labels: (i) change the word used to describe the phenomenon, or (ii) change the understanding of the word used. As psychologist Kay Redfield Jamison (1995) has written of her own struggles with manic depression and the words used to describe mental illness, improved understanding has typically been the more effective approach. However, given the choice to change the word(s) used, there is the matter of what change to make. Usually, the suggested choice is a word or phrase deemed to carry less stigma, fewer negative associations, or more positive meanings. For example, using person-first language such as ‘child with EBD’ (as opposed to ‘EBD child’) is often thought to be a salutary change. However, even person-first language is considered demeaning and in need of replacement if the label itself is considered a derogation. For example, EBD might be considered unacceptable because it includes the word ‘disorder.’ ‘Challenged’ or some variation of the word is often suggested as more acceptable, less socially damaging or a less accusatory term. It is considered more acceptable in large measure because a challenge is thought to be only something to meet or surmount, not a derogation. Sometimes the word ‘challenge’ is used alone, but it is typically linked to something more specific, such as behavior. In common parlance, children and youth may be said to have a ‘behavioral challenge’ or to exhibit ‘challenging behavior.’ Such linguistic changes supply new labels for old phenomena, not the avoidance of labels. Moreover, ‘challenged’ is an obvious casualty of the desire not to use any word with negative meaning, as already it is used commonly to derogate. Perhaps readers will know that euphemisms such as ‘height challenged’ for short, ‘gravity challenged’ for obese, ‘follicly challenged’ for bald or balding, and so on are sometimes used to deride those with a perceived negative characteristic. The tactic of renaming to try to avoid plainer and supposedly more hurtful language, such as replacing EBD or more specific labels with ‘challenged’ and ‘individual with – challenges’ or ‘issues’ now presents the challenge of finding a word for designating something thought to be undesirable without saying that it is—a very difficult language trick, indeed, and likely impossible. In short, attempts to avoid labels altogether, to invent euphemisms for disorders or problems, to circumvent labels for individuals by labeling only the services they receive—which inevitably results in their being labeled by the services they receive: problem not averted—are all faux solutions because they do not address our use of language to talk about matters of concern. Language requires us to label, but it does allow us to decide what label to use. Labeling unpleasant realities in ways that reduce people’s aversion to unpleasantness requires trying to fool people, such as relabeling bombs ‘peacekeepers,’ calling torture ‘enhanced interrogation,’ and so on. It may be helpful here to consider how labeling and science are related. As a science matures, it requires more specific language. Advances in science require finer discriminations, meaning more specific categories and labels. Scientists understand that more general terms sacrifice clarity, specificity, and efficiency in communication. Moreover, practitioners of a science assume responsibility for any label or category they use. Kliewer et al. (2006: 188) denied such responsibility: ‘We do not believe a person has an intellectual disability; rather, the person is defined by others as having the condition.’ A psychiatrist who writes that a schizophrenic patient does not actually have schizophrenia but is defined by others as having schizophrenia invites ridicule. Fobbing off responsibility for labeling is likely to be recognized as blatant cynicism or the kind of witlessness that makes people laugh at a comic strip character who says that he is the type of person who does not classify people into types. Observations about the specificity of categories and labels and responsibility for them also apply to the labels used for children and youth with EBD. Whether using any specific category or label is good or bad is a question for which no scientific answer is possible, only moral judgment. However, we should base moral judgment on our best reasoning about the data we have, as suggested by Neiman (2008). 18

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Developing scientific hypotheses about labels One of the major problems of ‘labeling theory,’ which often amounts to little more than surmise based on philosophical preferences, is creating hypotheses that can be tested. Most of the folklore about labeling is based on questionable assumptions about how language influences thought and perception. Few studies of the effects of labels themselves have been done, and the reported studies are open to serious criticism on scientific grounds. As suggested earlier, a common complaint is that labels cause problems that otherwise would not occur. However, we must consider whether the scientific evidence supports the conviction that labeling causes problems. The evidence is mixed because we must distinguish between the problem that has been labeled and reaction to the label used to describe it. This is complicated by the fact that reactions to labels must themselves be labeled, leading to an infinite regress: labels for reactions to labels, to labels for reactions to labels … ad infinitum. Labeling ‘theory’ may be a misnomer, for it seldom addresses the quandary of making sense of scientific data regarding creation of a problem by labeling it. A theory is a way of making sense of data, not speculation. We have little evidence, if any at all, that a label for a problem causes it. The idea that a word has the power to create something out of nothing in the material world is a long-held superstition. Nevertheless, the understanding that words can create a tendency to behave in certain ways is well known and well founded in scientific data. Although labels clearly do not cause the problems to which they refer, they can cause other problems— inappropriate reactions to them, misunderstandings or biases and stereotypes based on false assumptions about the individual labeled or the condition named. We do need accurate labels carrying the least possible stigma—those creating the least damage but referring unambiguously to the problem (Singer 1988). Appropriate labeling is accurate. However, two realities must be kept in mind: first, any euphemism inevitably becomes a joke; and second, any label one might invent can be used as an epithet. The two most difficult scientific questions regarding labeling are: (i) do students take a marked turn for the worse, stay about the same, or get significantly better when they’re labeled?; and (ii) do labels have a significant effect on the self-perceptions of students with particular problems? The first question is extremely difficult to investigate scientifically. A problem cannot be defined or investigated without naming (labeling) it. Investigating the effects of a label depends on accurate identification of the phenomenon to which it refers. Too often, investigations are not of the effects of a label itself but of others’ reactions to it. Furthermore, a label means that something has been observed for which treatment is appropriate. Put differently, without labeling, no problem will be identified and treatment will not occur (see Kauffman 1999; Kauffman et al. 2007, for discussion of this problem in EBD). Diagnosis, which cannot be done without labeling, is as important in special education as it is in medicine; no diagnosis or assessment—no labeled problem—no treatment. The second question is somewhat easier to investigate. However, we must be careful to separate the effects of the problem itself from the effects of the label. Research on labeling has been largely inconclusive, and this important distinction—effects of the problem versus effects of the label—has often not been made. Although some people may expect deviant behavior from those who are labeled, it is conceivable that labels might also help those without disabilities better understand and be more tolerant of those with disabilities. That is, labels may help explain and justify differences in appearance or behavior for which the person with a disability might otherwise be blamed or be more stigmatized (Hallahan et al. 2009; Kauffman and Landrum 2009). The answer best grounded in scientific evidence about the effects of labels is, ‘we do not really know, but perhaps the effects of a label depend on the circumstances.’ In short, there are now no definitive scientific answers to the problems of labeling. 19

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Part of the reason this is so is that a scientist must ask whether we can, in fact, observe and communicate about a phenomenon without calling it something. Separating out the effects of the name used to designate a problem from the effects of a problem itself is no small feat. There is also the issue of truth in labeling—that is, whether the label was selected to refer unambiguously to the category or was selected solely to test responses to one label instead of another. A labeling skeptic would want to know whether the label was used inappropriately or was intended to communicate effectively or gauge understanding. If a label is used only to judge responses to it, not to communicate candidly, one might see the label as deceit—like calling a ballistic bomb a ‘peacekeeper,’ justifying torture by referring to it as ‘enhanced interrogation,’ or obfuscating an unpleasant diagnosis by labeling it only a ‘challenge’ or ‘issue.’

Risks and benefits of labels Language should reflect a willingness to confront realities, even unpleasant ones. A change of label may have benefits, but it may also carry risks. Changing a label makes people stop and think about its referent. When they understand its referent, they may see the label as an object of jest because it is meant only to obscure an unpleasant reality. Labels in common use today, such as EBD and related language for particular categories, are generally straightforward and understandable. Being identified as having EBD or being categorized as having a more specific disability is shameful only to those who make it so by their pronouncement that the referent is unacceptable or the term is derogatory. A euphemism for it, such as ‘challenging behavior’ or ‘issue,’ invites comedic responses. A risk in avoiding any unpleasant reality is removal of motivation to treat the problem. For example, were we to avoid the reality of cancer by renaming it ‘prolific cell mutation’ or ‘happy cells,’ or by using some other euphemism to reduce its negative connotations, we would risk losing the motivation to treat it. Better, perhaps, to work on changing the perception of cancer from something hopeless to a treatable illness—but still call it ‘cancer.’ Labels for emotional or behavioral disabilities or the children and youth who have them are often misunderstood. We must recognize that reality. However, any label may be interpreted to mean something it does not. Controversy may exist about precisely what a given label does or does not mean, but the controversy could indicate that a more specific label is needed, not that what has been observed is too unpleasant. In response to the suggestion that we not use a label because it creates expectations, we could ask, ‘what should we expect? Should we have no expectations, or should we not speak of them? Having no expectations is probably foolish. Realizing that our expectations could be wrong is probably wise. We are wise to have a reasonable degree of skepticism about a label, which could be wrong. Then again, it might be right for what we know at the time. Changing a label does not change the reality we see. We should care most about better understanding of what we talk about.

Note 1 In 2012, the American Psychiatric Association published the draft version of DSM-V, which extends and updates DSM-IV. The final DSM-V is scheduled for publication in 2013.

References Anastasiou, D. and Kauffman, J.M. (2011) ‘A social constructivist approach to disability: Implications for special education’. Exceptional Children 77: 367–84.

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Forness, S.R., Freeman, F.N., Paparella, T., Kauffman, J.M. and Walker, H.M. (2012) ‘Implications of point and cumulative prevalence for children with emotional or behavioral disorders’. Journal of Emotional and Behavioral Disorders 20(1): 4–18. Hallahan, D.P., Kauffman, J.M. and Pullen, P.C. (2009) Exceptional Learners: An Introduction to Special Education (11th edn). Boston, MA: Allyn & Bacon. Jamison, K.R. (1995) An Unquiet Mind. New York: Alfred A. Knopf. Kauffman, J.M. (1999) ‘How we prevent the prevention of emotional and behavioral disorders’. Exceptional Children 65: 448–68. ——(2004) ‘The President’s Commission and the devaluation of special education’. Education and Treatment of Children 27: 307–24. ——(2009) ‘Attributions of malice to special education policy and practice’. In T.E. Scruggs and M.A. Mastropieri (eds), Advances in Learning and Behavioral Disabilities: Vol. 22. Policy and Practice. Bingley, UK: Emerald, 33–66. ——(2010) ‘The Problem of Early Identification’. In H. Ricking and G.C. Schulze (eds), Pädagogik bei Förderbedarf der Sozialen und Emotionalen Entwicklung – Prävention, Interdisziplinarität, Professionalisierung. Bad Heilbrunn, Germany: Klinkhardt Verlag, 171–7. ——(2011) Toward a Science of Education: The Battle Between Rogue and Real Science. Verona, WI: Attainment. Kauffman, J.M. and Brigham, F.J. (2009) Working with Troubled Children. Verona, WI: Attainment. Kauffman, J.M. and Hallahan, D.P. (2005) Special Education: What It Is and Why We Need It. Boston, MA: Allyn & Bacon. Kauffman, J.M. and Konold, T.R. (2007) ‘Making sense in education: Pretense (Including NCLB) and Realities in Rhetoric and Policy about Schools and Schooling’. Exceptionality 15: 75–96. Kauffman, J.M. and Landrum, T.J. (2009) Characteristics of Emotional and Behavioral Disorders of Children and Youth (9th edn). Upper Saddle River, NJ: Merrill Prentice-Hall. Kauffman, J.M., Mock, D.R. and Simpson, R.L. (2007) ‘Problems related to underservice of students with emotional or behavioral disorders’. Behavioral Disorders 33: 43–57. Kauffman, J.M., Mock, D.R., Tankersley, M. and Landrum, T.J. (2008) ‘Effective service delivery models’. In R.J. Morris and N. Mather (eds), Evidence-Based Interventions for Students with Learning and Behavioral Challenges. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, 359–78. Kauffman, J.M., Simpson, R.L. and Mock, D.R. (2009) ‘Problems related to underservice: A rejoinder’. Behavioral Disorders 34: 172–80. Kliewer, C., Biklen, D. and Kasa-Hendrickson, C. (2006) ‘Who may be literate? Disability and resistance to the cultural denial of competence’. American Educational Research Journal 43: 163–92. Manjoo, F. (2008) True Enough: Learning to Live in a Post-Fact Society. New York: Wiley. Neiman, S. (2002) Evil in Modern Thought: An Alternative History of Philosophy. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. ——(2008) Moral Clarity: A Guide for Grown-up Idealists. New York: Harcourt. Singer, J.D. (1988) ‘Should Special Education Merge with Regular Education?’ Educational Policy 2: 409–24.

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3 The labelling and categorisation of children with EBD A cautionary consideration Roger Slee

The argument There is a story that tells of a man who happens across another man who is on his hands and knees at the footing of a bright street lamp staring into the gutter. The man who is standing motions towards the other person and asks quietly so as to avoid startling him: ‘What are you doing? May I be of assistance?’ The man looks up towards the other, looks back into the gutter and resumes pushing his hand through a dark mass of sodden fallen leaves. He says: ‘Yes, I am looking for my watch. I lost it.’ As many of us do in this circumstance, the would-be helper asks a silly question: ‘Where did you lose it my friend?’ Surprisingly, the man who remains on his hands and knees thrusts his right arm back over his left side towards the dark end of the street and replies: ‘Over there.’ ‘Then why are you looking here?’ ‘Because the light is much brighter here.’ Many readers who are attracted to this text will be inclined to dismiss this chapter as unhelpful to the cause of educating children who fall into the ever-widening spectrum of emotional and behavioural disorders (EBD). Indeed, critiques of developments in the field of diagnoses and responses to EBD (Rose 2005; Slee 1995) have not been well received or incorporated into the 22

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development of the science1 of this field of research and educational practice (Kauffman and Hallahan 1995; Cooper 2008). Cooper (2008: 457), likening critical researchers David Skidmore, John Visser and the present writer to a Gary Larson Far Side cartoon where alligators pluck poodles from a water bowl, suggests that the critique is a danger to children with EBD through our refusal to recognise the legitimacy of behavioural disorders such as ADHD (attention deficit/ hyperactivity disorder). The charge is, of course, incorrect and misleading. The purpose of this chapter is neither to deny nor to affirm the existence of behavioural disorders such as ADHD. The author is neither qualified to, nor interested in doing so. The growing concern is, however, with apparent problems in diagnosis and responses to troubling and/or disengaged children, especially those who are attributed with ADHD (Slee 1995, 2010; Harwood 2006; Graham 2010; Laurence and McCallum 2009; Tait 2010). The assignation of children to special educational needs (SEN) classifications has a long-standing record of controversy. Indeed, Daniels (2006) alleges corruption in the deployment of special education labels. Tomlinson (1979) directed attention to the disproportionate attachment of SEN classifications and subsequent referral of Caribbean boys to special education services in England. The disproportionate assignation of minority racial groups continues to trouble researchers around the world (e.g. Gillborn 2008; Parsons 1996, 2009 in the UK; Parrish 2002 in the USA; Graham and Sweller 2011; and Slee 2010 in Australia). Dyson and Kozleski (2008) recently considered the disproportional representation of specific groups of children in special education on either side of the Atlantic Ocean. Both the USA and the UK are, they argue: ‘ … economically rich, but socially poor’ (Dyson and Kozleski 2008: 170). Both have well-resourced school systems that ‘ … are capable of making high levels of provision for children who are deemed to be in some way needy’ (Dyson and Kozleski 2008: 170). They go on to register their concerns about the impact of SEN classifications: On the face of it, special education systems of this kind are both benign and rational. The targeting of need is one mark of a just society, and the use of scrupulous and scientifically based assessments is, arguably, a mark of a technologically advanced and equity-minded one. Yet in both countries, there is a puzzling phenomenon. Although students from any social group can be and are identified as in need of special education, members of some groups are more likely than others to be identified. Groups whose members tend to do badly in the general education system supply more students to the special education system. (Dyson and Kozleski 2008: 170–1) Consistent with Wilkinson and Pickett’s (2009) influential analysis of growing levels of inequality in affluent countries and its deleterious impacts on a range of social and economic outcomes, Dyson and Kozleski’s (2008: 171) investigation of disproportional referrals to special education show that they are not random, but represent ‘precisely the groups that do least well in terms of a whole range of social indicators: health, employment, income, encounters with the penal system and so on’. James Kauffman (see Chapter 2 in this volume) makes little of the fact of the racialisation of behaviour disorders through disproportionate classification in the USA. Instead he turns to a distractive discussion of political correctness, the excesses of which are used to deflect from the value of any critique of the science of special education. Echoing Bronfenbrenner (1979), those whom Brantlinger (1997, 2006) might now call the new breed of traditional special educators characterise their work as embodying a biopsychosocial perspective (e.g. Cooper 2008: 465). This is progress. A more trans-disciplinary and nuanced analysis is required. However, at this stage it seems that physiological explanation dominates an incomplete socio-political analysis. 23

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At the heart of any analysis of the deployment and impact of systems for classifying children and calculating educational entitlements there must be a strong political and economic analysis. The absence of this analysis and the reliance on special educators and psychologists to design and administer models of student classification and resource allocation will have perverse effects. These effects may include:  Net-widening: is where children who show a range of behaviours consistent with the symptoms of official disorders are swept up and referred in large numbers to alternative education settings or programmes that seriously attenuate their educational achievements and social opportunities.  Accelerated disablement: is where the gravity of the model presses diagnosticians, administrators, teachers and parents to emphasise or overstate impairments in order to secure additional or basic resource entitlements. This is made all the more possible where psychiatrists and psychologists allow for the assignation of patients to ‘shadow syndromes’ when the symptoms do not conform precisely to the DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of American Psychiatric Association) schedule (Greenberg 2010; Kutchins and Kirk 1997).  System segmentation and atomisation: is where more students are drawn to the therapeutic margins of education and resources are diverted from the requirement for system reform that will benefit all children.  School-to-prison pipeline refers to a growing body of evidence from the USA and Australia (Slee 1995; Wald and Losen 2003; Graham and Sweller 2011) that suggests that increasing numbers of young people are being identified with behaviour disorders earlier and that the transition from school-based categories of behaviour disorders to adult incarceration is established. This is not to suggest causation; it simply reflects that classification and special educational services are not a guarantee of better educational and social outcomes. This leads to Norwich’s (2008) question about what kind of classification system would prove useful to pedagogical and school reform. Norwich’s question helps us widen our gaze from the bright streetlamp of individual pathology to build the social analysis into lopsided extant biopsychosocial offerings. He offers a dilemmatic approach to understanding the complex relationships between disability, difference and education based on the work of Minow, Robert Dahl and Isaiah Berlin amongst others. Terzi (2008) draws on Amartya Sen’s capability approach to conceptualising and responding to injustice. It has been suggested elsewhere that although there is an acknowledgement of its importance, an authentic biopsychosocial analysis has not yet been provided by those working in the field of childhood behavioural disorders (Slee 2010). The argument is that our analyses remain incomplete. Pursuant to this broader analysis, this chapter represents research that strengthens the analysis of the biopolitics of emotional and behavioural disorders. This will not in or of itself build a will for better analyses and diminish the ongoing drift to over-diagnosis and under-diagnosis. This requires a willingness to engage in a trans-disciplinary critical research programme rather than a determination to prove a case. Winning the argument may be a pyrrhic victory that sells troubling children (Youdell 2010) and school reform short.

Towards a broader and deeper reconnaissance In his book The Politics of Life Itself, Nikolas Rose (2007) commences his analysis of biopolitics with a lesson he draws from Foucault’s genealogy of the assemblage of medical knowledge in The Birth of the Clinic: 24

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the epistemological, ontological, and technical reshaping of modern medical perception at the start of the nineteenth century came about through the interconnections of changes along a series of dimensions, some of which seem, at first sight, rather distant from medicine. (Foucault 1973, cited in Rose 2007: 9) Straddling traditional knowledge disciplines to understand complex phenomena, Rose uses five lines of inquiry into biopolitics and contemporary knowledge of ‘vitality’ (life). A summary of these five interrogative elements follows. The summary illustrates how to strengthen the ‘social’ understandings of how we know and approach what has come to be described as EBD. Rose reminds us, by example, of the necessity for interrogating how we come to know phenomena, and the impacts that ways of knowing have on what counts and what is to be dismissed. The first investigation considers the progress and the shaping of knowledge through molecularisation. Molecularisation refers to the way in which we have moved from the dissection table where we visualized the body as an intricate interconnection of tissues, limbs, joints, organs, bones, cartilages, blood flows and other fluids. This we came to know from the surgeon’s table. Technological transformations spanning early x-ray machines to informatics and computational modelling developed across the disciplines of biology, engineering, physics, mathematics, renders life as a series of DNA sequences. New ways of visualising the body at the molecular level reshape our understanding of the body and allow for radical interventions. Political fracture around the nature and effects of such interventions is inevitable. What human characteristics will we successively eradicate from the species as the knowledge and technology enables us to make these determinations? ‘Contemporary medical technologie’, says Rose (2007: 16), ‘do not seek merely to cure diseases once they have manifested themselves, but to control the vital processes of the body and the mind’. Under these conditions of knowing life, we can target elements, at molecular level, therein to alter humans to better fit the changing requirements of their world. Hence so-called smart drugs become feasible for the flagging worker or student. The second element of investigation he calls technologies of optimisation. New technologies for visualising the body at the molecular level both reflect and propagate new ways of thinking about life and, inevitably, about intervening in what once was seen as its natural course. New knowledge of the molecular structure of the brain has given rise to very persuasive, but contestable brain sciences (Rose 2005). Perfection, from body shape, function and longevity, becomes an overriding quest. Difference is reconceptualised and our narrowing tolerance is represented through the increasing range of tools to change ourselves. Nature is redundant as women contemplate post-menopausal childbearing and men are offered the eternal erection: trite, but real examples of how the effect of new knowledge reorders social thinking and organisation. Thinking about changing conditions and expectations from schooling and the optimisation of children is no longer the realm of fantasy. Not only can we attain the long-coveted normalisation, but the new normal is based on what dominates as the optimal human form. Third, is subjectification. Here Rose examines the formation of a new politics of health and medicine. Rabinow (1996) deployed the term biosociality to describe the social relations of medicine. Individual and group identities are formed around genetic profiles. They then mobilise around health identity and genetic research projects to negotiate their world and to shape or reshape their future. An apparent example of this is seen in the way that groups form around syndromes or diseases, and in the way that parents seek confirmation of diagnoses for their children in order to secure educational, health and leisure entitlements. In this respect there is a possibility for the application of particular diagnoses and SEN labels in order to renegotiate the status of the child and the terms of schooling. 25

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Rose then turns to an analysis of the experts of life itself: As the quest for health has become central to the telos of living for so many human beings in advanced liberal democracies, people have come to experience themselves and their lives in fundamentally biomedical terms, and with the best of intentions on all sides have become bound to the ministrations and adjudications of medical expertise, and/or those paramedical alternative and complementary forms of expertise that have partaken of much the same logic. (Rose 2007: 28) Hitherto, doctors enjoyed a privileged position as the custodians of medical knowledge. This has profoundly changed, as have the social relations of medicine. People invest in themselves and their kin as an ongoing medical project. Experts exert pastoral power over a population seeking speech therapy, occupational therapy, art therapy, music therapy, physiotherapy, aromatherapy, and psychotherapy. We enlist dieticians, nutritionists, personal trainers, marriage counsellors, mental health counsellors, educational counsellors, genetic counsellors, and fertility and reproduction counsellors to augment the services of traditional medicine. Fleck identifies thought collectives that form around soma identities: From the stem cell experts to the molecular gerontologists, from the neuroscientists to the technologists of cloning, new specialists of the soma have emerged, each with their own apparatus of associations, meetings, journals, esoteric languages, star performers and myths. Each of these is surrounded by, augmented by a flock of popularizers, science writers and journalists. While often disowned by the researchers themselves, they play a key translational and meditational role in forming the associations. (Rose 2007: 29–30) The final analytic strand is bioeconomics. Biocapital shapes relationships, sets political priorities, traverses national borders, builds a discourse of urgency, need and benevolence, and defines the parameters of important knowledge and the next big question (Slee 2010: 132). Governments, corporations and university laboratories fall into step with each other in defining new medical research partnerships and priorities. Rose is not lapsing into a conspiracy theory that suggests that pharmaceutical companies create new medical disorders for their own profit. Rather, the relationships between capital, government and medical research and practice are complex and do establish agendas and particular forms of ethics. At times, interests blur and merge and science reflects such interests (Kutchins and Kirk 1997; Rose 2005; Greenberg 2010). While we have complicated administration of ethical research practices (with good reason), the ethical agenda is proscribed. The ethics of practices in research into human fertility are carefully managed. The ethical consideration has not been extended to question why human fertility commands the expenditure it does while we allow children to die in Malawi for ‘the want of a dollar’ for simple vaccinations (Sachs 2005). Ethics itself is a malleable project.

So what? For the social element of the biopsychosocial analysis of EBD to acquire authenticity there needs to be a more searching probe into the context and conditions of schooling that establish the field of social relations that shape and respond to troubling behaviour. In the last part of this discussion three frames are used to illustrate the attractiveness, power and consequences of EBD labels. They also frame alternative analyses and responses to that which is lodged as EBD scientific practice. 26

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Before embarkation it is important to restate that this is not an atheist’s treatise seeking to deny childhood disorders. Family circumstances remind one of the reality and trauma of mental illness. It is simply an invitation to become more discerning in our relationship with medical and special educational authority. The frames may shape an introduction to the social as a forerunner to re-examining the bio and the psycho domains. Of course, the domains or perspectives are contingent and may reshape each other through respectful dialogue. Tables are inevitably reductive. Table 3.1 is a point of embarkation rather than foreclosure. Along the top of the table are three frames (of course there are more) for thinking about the socio-political production of children and schooling. These are: policy and culture (framing policy and culture), children’s identities (framing children) and school practices (framing practice). The four domains of policy and culture and accompanying bullet points are prompts. Following is an elaboration of the four policy and culture domains—globalisation and neo-liberal ethics, education markets, neo-special education, and inclusive schooling—and their interactions relationship to thinking about EBD labels.

Globalisation and neo-liberal ethics Rizvi and Lingard (2009) contend that policy is in effect the allocation of values. Profound changes in flows of capital, information and people have generated a pervasive neo-liberal ethic of competitive individualism. This is the hallmark of the culture of new capitalism (Sennett 2006). Fuelled by a fear of the spectre of uselessness (Sennett 2006: 86), families atomise and community breaks down. Bauman (1997: 22) observes that notwithstanding an official discourse Table 3.1 Three frames Framing policy and culture

Framing children

Framing practice

1 Globalisation and the neo-liberal ethics 2 Education markets

 Competitive individualism  Establishing academic identity  Establishing real and residual schools—academic and other needy children  Assignation of difference— labels, biopolitics  Formalising inclusion and structuring exclusion

     

3 Neo-special education

 





4 Inclusive schooling

 Recognising and representing the neighbourhood cohort



Test training Calibrating children Fabricating standards Performativity Tables and exemptions Forming and elaborating categories of difference Assigning and treating children Developing special educational needs tracks, curriculum and pedagogy Negotiating the terms of interchange with the regular school Catering for choice through proliferation of alternatives and leaving the regular school regular Reforming school structures, policies and practices to increase access, participation and success

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that promotes difference, diversity and multiculturalism, we live in a condition of ambient fear, the hallmark of which is mixaphobia. The drive for cheap labour produces redundant or waste populations (Bauman 2004). This collateral damage is always described in technical terms to deflect from the human cost. Phrases like ‘the terms of trade’, ‘currency crisis’, ‘efficiency measures’, and ‘right-sizing’ deflect from the fact that these are decisions that devastate real people with names, families and postcodes (Bauman 2004). The technical timbre and pitch of SEN classifications may play a similarly deflective role of objectifying suffering and marginalisation. Transnational organisations such as the World Bank and the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) now determine education policy and cultures at global and local levels. The establishment of international benchmarks such as the Programme for International Student Assessment (PISA) and the Trends in International Maths and Science Study (TIMMS) reach across and into national education systems. High-stakes standardised testing is used to establish standards and schools are ranked on the basis of children’s test results (Stobart 2008). Schools aim to demonstrate success and teachers suspend education in preference to test coaching. Under these conditions mistakes have little place in learning and represent a risk to reputation and funding. Risk-averse schools need to protect against the deleterious effects of dysfunctional individual children on their overall results and standing on league tables (Slee 1998). Under these conditions it is important to establish the child’s academic identity. Should they represent risk, it becomes important to establish a special identity: SEN, EBD, ADHD, OCD, ODD and so the acronyms flow. In this way the school can enlist necessary support and/or exemptions. If the assignment of the labels reflects a will to improve pedagogy and educational opportunities for children, this is indeed a sound development. If other imperatives are at play that lead to greater separation of EBD children, the lowering of teacher expectations and narrowing curriculum and restricted pedagogy, our practices are in need of critique and change.

Education markets Education is a commodity of varying quality and utility. Parents become choosers and or purchasers on behalf of their children as they invest in their future ascension to labour market entry points. As we have observed, schools are ranked and education consumers make choices. This choosing also works the other way as schools seek to improve rankings through the selection of students. The calibration and classification of the school population becomes important in this context. Troubling students are problematic. The application of a formal diagnosis is procedurally important. It may be the lever for unlocking additional educational support to support their continuing participation at their neighbourhood school. Conversely, it may be the trap-door lever that drops them into the growing offering of residual schools that remove them from the education mainframe (Parsons 2009). It is correct to argue that many children’s behaviour excludes them from participation within the regular school. They are disengaged and their learning has been suspended. Moreover, they do interrupt the learning of others and the teaching of the school curriculum. Under these circumstances a formal diagnosis of their aberrant behaviour becomes attractive and useful. The improvement of the machinery of classification is important and can be justified on behalf of the troubled and troubling child. The problem stands—is this an essentially conservative mechanism for underwriting institutional equilibrium? Are we eschewing much-needed school reform?

Neo-special education Does the assignation of labels lead to an improvement of educational services, educational outcomes and life-chances for children who are diagnosed with behaviour problems? Norwich 28

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suggests the need for a revision of extant SEN classification systems. He intimates that a biopsychosocial assessment may be achieved through the application of the World Health Organization’s (WHO) 2002 International Classification of Functioning Disability and Health (Norwich 2008: 147). This may well help to return the social, and knowledge and pedagogy, to the school-planning table. The diagnostic instruments for behaviour disorders remain troubling. The substantive questions that have been levelled at the DSM (APA 2000) by researchers such as Kutchins and Kirk (1997) and Steven Rose (2005) have not been sufficiently addressed by the biopsychosocial analysis of behaviour disorders (Cooper 2008). Taking up Fleck’s observations about thought collectives, ADHD provides an interesting test case for improving biopsychosocial investigation. The scientific basis for diagnosis is changeable and disputed (Rose 2005; Rose 2007; Graham 2010). This is not remarkable as the same applies to conditions such as multiple sclerosis and many other maladies. The manner and administration of diagnosis is often inconsistent, derived from decontextualised checklists and geographically disproportionate. The growth of organisations such as CHADD (children and adults with ADHD) in the USA to secure substantial Federal government and pharmaceutical company funding is significant to questions about the growing pervasiveness and respectability of the syndrome and the acquisition of its label. Financial and professional interest is sufficiently at play to push us towards greater scrutiny of developments in this area.

Inclusive schooling Inclusive education is used here as a proxy for school reform. It allows us to issue a broader set of questions about education cultures, policies and practices (Booth and Ainscow 2010). This frame returns us to the dark street, the solitary streetlight, the man on his knees searching the gutter, and the bemused interloper. It is not offered as an educational endpoint, but as a means for testing taken-for-granted educational practices. In this instance it is an invitation to step up the interrogation of the development, assignation and effects of EBD labels through a more expansive interrogation of our knowledge and practices in special and regular education. Special education is not to be demonised and regular education sanctified. They are co-dependent institutional inventions in need of the reformer’s inquisition. This chapter has called for a more robust consideration of the nature of scientific knowledge and the actions that proceed from that knowledge. It has also argued that labels are not neutral medical descriptors; they are political artefacts. This being the case, we need to test the claims of the biopsychosocial analyses with an urgent intensity.

Note 1 ‘Science’ has been italicized to suggest that it is not a neutral term. It is often used to suggest that those who gather to create and apply it are free from ideology, untainted by prior assumptions or other intrusions from the world outside the laboratory. This is, of course, not the case.

References APA (American Psychiatric Association) (2000) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders: DSM IV TR, fourth edn. Washington, DC: American Psychiatric Association. Bauman, Z. (1997) Postmodernity and its Discontents. Cambridge: Polity. ——(2004) Wasted Lives: Modernity and its Outcasts. Oxford: Polity. Booth, T. and Ainscow, M. (2010) Index for Inclusion, third edn. Bristol: Centre for Studies on Inclusive Education.

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Brantlinger, E. (1997) ‘Using ideology: Cases of non-recognition of the politics of research and practice in special education’. Review of Educational Research 67(4): 425–59. ——(2006) Who Benefits from Special Education? Remediating (Fixing) Other People’s Children. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Publishers. Bronfenbrenner, U. (1979) The Ecology of Human Development: Experiments by Nature and Design. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Cooper, P. (2008) ‘Like alligators bobbing for poodles? A critical discussion of education, ADHD and the biopsychosocial perspective’. Journal of Philosophy in Education 42 (3–4): 457–74. Daniels, H. (2006) ‘The dangers of corruption in special needs education’. British Journal of Special Education 33(1): 4–10. Dorling, D. (2010) Injustice: Why Inequality Persists. Bristol: The Policy Press. Dyson, A. and Kozleski, E.B. (2008) ‘Disproportionality in Special Education—A Transatlantic Phenomenon’. In L. Florian and M.J. McLaughlin (eds), Disability Classification in Education. Issues and Perspectives. Thousand Oaks, CA: Corwin Press, 170–90. Foucault, M. (1973) The Birth of the Clinic. London: Tavistock Press. Gillborn, D. (2008) Racism and Education: Coincidence or Conspiracy? Abingdon: Routledge. Graham, L. (ed.) (2010) (De)Constructing ADHD. New York: Peter Lang. Graham, L. and Sweller, N. (2011) ‘The inclusion lottery: who’s in and who’s out? Tracking inclusion and exclusion in New South Wales government schools’. International Journal of Inclusive Education 15(9): 941–53. Greenberg, G. (2010) Manufacturing Depression: The Secret History of a Modern Disease. London: Bloomsbury Publishing. Harwood, V. (2006) Diagnosing ‘Disorderly’ Children: A Critique of Behaviour Disorder Discourses. London: Routledge. Kauffman, J. M. and Hallahan, D. P. (1995) The Illusion of Full Inclusion: A Comprehensive Critique of a Current Special Education Bandwagon. Austin, Texas: Pro-Ed. Kutchins, H. and Kirk, S. A. (1997) Making us Crazy: DSM—The Psychiatric Bible and the Creation of Mental Disorders. New York: Free Press. Laurence, J. and McCallum, D. (2009) Inside the Child’s Head. Histories of Childhood Behavioural Disorders. Rotterdam: Sense Publishers. Lingard, B. (1998) ‘The disadvantaged schools programme: caught between literacy and local management’. International Journal of Inclusive Education 2(1): 1–14. Mongon, D. (1988) ‘Behaviour units, maladjustment and student control’. In R. Slee (ed.), Discipline and Schools: A Curriculum Perspective. South Melbourne: Macmillan. Norwich, B. (2008) Dilemmas of Difference, Inclusion and Disability: International Perspectives and Future Directions. London: Routledge. Parrish, T. (2002) ‘Racial disparities in the identification, funding and provision of special education’. In D. Losen and G. Orfield (eds), Racial Inequality in Special Education. Cambridge, MA: Harvard Education Press. Parsons, C. (1996) Exclusion from School: The Public Cost. London: Commission for Racial Equality. ——(2009) Strategic Alternatives to Exclusion from School. Stoke-on-Trent: Trentham Books. Rabinow, P. (1996) Essays on the Anthropology of Reason. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Rizvi, F. and Lingard, R. (2009) Globalising Education Policy. Abingdon: Routledge. Rose, N. (2007) The Politics of Life Itself. Biomedicine, Power and Subjectivity in the Twenty-first Century. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Rose, S. (2005) The 21st Century Brain. Explaining, Mending and Manipulating the Mind. London: Vintage. Sachs, J. (2005) The End of Poverty: Economic Possibilities for our Time. New York: Penguin Press. Sennett, R. (2006) The Culture of New Capitalism. London: Yale University Press. Slee, R. (1995) Changing Theories and Practices of Discipline. London: Falmer Press. ——(1998) ‘High reliability organisations and liability students—the politics of recognition’. In R. Slee, G. Weiner and S. Tomlinson (eds), School Effectiveness for Whom? London: Falmer Press. ——(2010) The Irregular School. Abingdon: Routledge. Stobart, G. (2008) Testing Times: The Uses and Abuses of Assessment. Abingdon: Routledge. Tait, G. (2010) Philosophy, Behaviour Disorders and the School. Rotterdam: Sense Publishers. Terzi, L. (2008) ‘Beyond the dilemma of difference: The capability approach to disability and special educational needs’. In L. Florian and M. McLaughlin (eds), Disability Classification in Education. Thousand Oaks, CA: Corwin Press, 244–62. 30

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Tomlinson, S. (1979) Educational Subnormality: A Study in Decision-making. London: Routledge, Kegan and Paul. Wald, J. and Losen, D. J. (2003) ‘Defining and re-directing a school-to-prison pipeline’. New Directions for Youth Development 99 (Fall): 9–15. Wilkinson, R. G. and Pickett, K. (2009) The Spirit Level: Why More Equal Societies Almost Always do Better. London: Allen Lane. Youdell, D. (2010) School Trouble: Identity, Power and Politics in Education. London: Routledge.

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4 ADHD and children with social, emotional and behavioural difficulties Katherine Bilton and Paul Cooper

The ADHD diagnosis ADHD (attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder) is a clinical diagnosis of the American Psychiatric Association (APA), described in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-IV-R) (American Psychiatric Association 2000 [1994]). ADHD is also a diagnosis of the International Statistical Classification of Diseases and Related Health Problems (ICD-10), 10th edition (World Health Organization 1992). Whilst not identical, the criteria are very similar. The ADHD diagnostic criteria are used by physicians, psychologists and other specialists in determining whether or not an individual’s social, emotional and/or behavioural difficulties should be treated through medical response. In the USA, having a formal diagnosis of ADHD, when demonstrated to interfere with ability to benefit from education, enables pupils to receive legally guaranteed, government-funded special education provision (US Department of Education 2004). Core features of ADHD are inattention, hyperactivity and impulsivity at extreme levels when compared to peers. To diagnose ADHD, symptoms are evaluated by a physician using the following criteria:

Either A or B A. Inattention: six or more symptoms persisting for at least six months to a degree that is maladaptive and inconsistent with the child’s developmental level.  Often fails to give close attention to details or makes careless mistakes in schoolwork, work or other activities  Often has difficulty sustaining attention in tasks or play activities  Often does not seem to listen when spoken to directly  Often does not follow through on instructions; fails to finish schoolwork, chores or workplace duties (not due to oppositional behaviour or failure to understand instructions)  Often has difficulty organising tasks and activities  Often avoids, dislikes or is reluctant to do tasks requiring sustained mental effort  Often loses things necessary for tasks or activities 32

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 Is often easily distracted by extraneous stimuli  Is often forgetful in daily activities B. Hyperactivity-impulsivity: six or more symptoms persisting for at least six months to a degree that is maladaptive and inconsistent with developmental level. Hyperactivity  Often fidgets with hands or feet or squirms in seat  Often leaves seat in classroom or in other situations where remaining seated is expected  Often runs or climbs excessively where inappropriate (feelings of restlessness in young people or adults)  Often has difficulty playing or engaging in leisure activities quietly  Is often ‘on the go’ or often acts as if ‘driven by a motor’  Often talks excessively Impulsivity  Often blurts out answers before questions have been completed  Often has difficulty awaiting turn  Often interrupts or intrudes on others (for example, butts into conversations or games) Some symptoms must be present before the age of seven in two or more settings and significantly impair functioning, but the symptoms are not those of a pervasive developmental disorder. Many people exhibit some of these behaviours, thus a key focus in diagnosing ADHD is determining when, and under what conditions, a group of ‘normal’ behaviours rises to the level of clinical significance. Symptoms may persist into adulthood for up to half of children diagnosed with ADHD (Barkley et al. 2006). ‘Features of ADHD often coexist with other problems of mental health; and these other conditions may be both differential diagnoses (because they may produce behaviours superficially similar to those of ADHD) and co-morbid disorders that need to be recognised in their own right’ (NICE 2009: 22). International experts view ADHD as a heterogeneous disorder, having several sub-types caused by the interaction of multiple risk factors. Studies of twins have demonstrated heritability of ADHD, but no one genetic or neurological cause has been identified. Theorists suggest that multiple genes are at play, mediated by social and environmental factors, especially psychosocial adversity (NICE 2009). Variable international prevalence rates of ADHD have sometimes confused experts and laymen alike, creating uncertainty about the meaning of such national differences. Polanczyk et al. reviewed worldwide ADHD prevalence rates and conducted a metaregression analysis ‘to understand the reasons of estimate variability’. This study revealed an ADHD worldwide-pooled prevalence rate of 5.29 per cent, concluding that the large variability of ADHD prevalence rates resulted mainly from methodological differences across studies. ‘Adjusting for methodological differences, prevalence rate variability was only detected between studies conducted in North America and those conducted in Africa and the Middle East. Moreover, no significant differences in ADHD prevalence rates between North America and Europe were detected’ (Polanczyk et al. 2007: 946). Is ADHD a serious condition? Why should we be concerned about causes, symptoms or prevalence rates? Does it stigmatise individuals for the failings of their societies? Why should we care? Is ADHD a ‘Trojan horse’ that will harm more than it will help (Cooper and Ideus 1995)? In the USA the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) describe ADHD as ‘a serious public health problem because of the large estimated prevalence of the disorder, significant impairment in the areas of school performance and socialisation, the chronic nature of the disorder, the limited effectiveness of current interventions to attend to all the impairments associated with 33

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ADHD, and the inability to demonstrate that intervention provides substantial benefits for long-term outcomes’ (US Centers for Disease Control et al. 2011). According to NICE (2009: 104–9), in Britain, ADHD symptoms are associated with a range of impairments in social, academic, family, mental health and employment outcomes. Longitudinal studies indicate that ADHD symptoms are predictive of both current and future impairments. Despite distractibility and memory impairments which interfere with sustained attention for testing, individuals with ADHD demonstrate average or above intelligence on standard intelligence tests, which are not sensitive to cognitive processing differences typical in this group. Impairments also result from the presence of coexisting problems including conduct problems, emotional problems and overlapping neurodevelopmental disorders. Adults with ADHD are found to have lower paid jobs and lower socioeconomic status and have more car accidents. The human and societal costs of ADHD are increasingly well documented worldwide. Individuals with ADHD are less likely than others to succeed in school, form healthy and lasting social and family relationships, or find and sustain productive work in order to contribute to their societies (de Graaf et al. 2008). Conversely, as children they are more likely to experience severe early psychosocial adversity (Roy et al. 2000), grow up surrounded by disrupted and discordant relationships (Biederman et al. 1992), and develop early and persistent antisocial behaviour (Taylor et al. 1996). The association between ADHD and crime is becoming increasingly recognised and regarded with concern. Studies conducted in the USA, Canada, Sweden, Germany, Finland and Norway suggested that two-thirds of institutionalised young offenders and about one-half of the adult prison population screened positively for ADHD (Young 2007). Adults with ADHD are more likely to receive co-morbid diagnoses of asthma, depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, antisocial personality disorder and alcohol or drug misuse (Secnik et al. 2005). Economic costs of ADHD in the USA were calculated by Birnbaum et al. (2005), who estimated it at US$31.6 billion (price in 2000). Of this amount, only $1.6 billion (5 per cent) was spent on direct ADHD treatment, with the remainder going to other healthcare costs of children and adults with ADHD ($12.1 billion/38 per cent), and healthcare costs of family members of individuals with ADHD ($14.2 billion/45 per cent). Productivity losses of adults with ADHD and adult family members of persons with ADHD approximated $3.7 billion (12 per cent). Pelham et al. (2007) estimated individualised annual economic costs of ADHD in children and young people at approximately $14,600 per individual (2005 prices), of which 18 per cent went to healthcare, 34 per cent to the education system, and 48 per cent to services associated with crime and delinquency. The authors estimated a total cost of children and people with ADHD in the USA reaching $42.5 billion. Despite the likelihood that social, emotional and behaviour difficulties will occur in the lives of those with ADHD, diagnosis cannot explain social, emotional and behavioural difficulties. Research and experience also point to the value of non-medicalised approaches.

EBD and SEBD The term EBD (emotional and behavioural difficulties) evolved in Britain, Europe, the USA and elsewhere partly in opposition to the medicalisation of problems that educators were not trained to diagnose or to treat, but were increasingly expected to remedy in the classroom. Informing these concerns was the ‘anti-psychiatry’ movement which gained momentum in the 1960s and 1970s, challenging the fundamental assumptions and practices of psychiatry (Foucault 1988). Among the criticisms of anti-psychiatry are assertions that diagnostic criteria are vague, arbitrary and imprecise; treatments are more damaging than helpful, especially related to stigmatising patients; normal human traits are pathologised as a means of social control by the medical establishment 34

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unduly influenced by pharmaceutical companies; and patients are powerless victims of greater forces wielding non-legitimate authority (Conrad and Schneider 1992; Whitaker 2004). In Britain, ‘maladjustment’ was the term in use in the 1930s and through to the early 1980s to describe children who would later be described as having EBD. The Education Act of 1944 defined as maladjusted those ‘pupils who show evidence of emotional instability or psychological disturbance and require special education treatment in order to effect their personal, social or educational readjustment’ (cited in Cole et al. 1998: 9). Maladjustment was often framed in medical terms, which implied that it should be diagnosed and treated by medical personnel. Attempting further refinement of maladjustment, the Underwood Report (1955) declared that it was not a medical term for diagnosing a medical condition. The Warnock Report (Warnock Committee 1978) challenged assumptions about maladjusted children and the concept itself—a radical step. The Report’s recommendations were codified in the Education Act 1981, introducing the term ‘special educational need’ and setting forth new terms that continued to move away from the previous medical labelling of children: ‘speech and language disorders’, ‘visual disability and hearing disability’, ‘emotional and behavioural disorders’, and ‘learning difficulties: specific, mild, moderate and severe’ (Warnock Committee 1978). This departure from medicalised approaches is embedded in a strictly educational definition, which states: A child has special educational needs if he or she has a learning difficulty which calls for special educational provision to be made for him or her. A child has a learning difficulty if he or she: (a) has a significantly greater difficulty in learning than the majority of children of the same age (b) has a disability which either prevents or hinders the child from making use of educational facilities of a kind provided for children of the same age in schools within the area of the local education authority (c) is under five and falls within the definition at (a) or (b) above or would do if special educational provision was not made. (Section 312, UK Education Act of 1996, quoted in Department for Education and Skills 2001, 6)

Ofsted (1999) extended the shift from a medical to a social model for responding to special education needs. This change situated the ‘problem’ not within the child, but within social and environmental contexts, e.g. the family, schools, institutions, society. Children’s difficulties could best be approached through improving their social worlds. Schools should look to their organisation, curriculum and support systems to improve the relations between the child with EBD and his or her environment. No longer would the (former) maladjusted child be expected to carry the burden of adjusting to maladaptive situations, for the maladaptive situations would be changed to meet to the child’s needs. In Scotland, and more recently in England, ‘social’ was incorporated by many educationalists into the EBD formulation, completing the contextualisation process. This new approach is heavily influenced by the relatively new profession of educational psychology which replaces the medical profession as the designated professional overseer of the education of children with special educational needs (SEN). In the USA, EBD emerged out of ‘severe emotional disturbance’ (SED), the following little-used category of the federal Education of the Handicapped Act of 1975 (Public Law 94–142): 35

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(i) The term [SED] means a condition exhibiting one or more of the following characteristics over a long period of time and to a marked degree, which adversely affects education performance: a) an inability to learn which cannot be explained by intellectual, sensory, or health factors; b) an inability to build or maintain satisfactory interpersonal relationships with peers or teachers; c) inappropriate types of behaviour or feelings under normal circumstances; d) a general, pervasive mood of unhappiness or depression; or e) a tendency to develop physical symptoms or fears associated with personal or school problems. (ii) The term [SED] includes children who are schizophrenic or autistic. The term does not include children who are socially maladjusted, unless it is determined that they are seriously emotionally disturbed. (Kauffman 2001) In the 1990s the US Council for Exceptional Children sought to replace SED with a different construct, ‘emotional or behavioural disorder’ (EBD), a condition in which: The term emotional or behavior disorder means a disability characterized by behavioral or emotional responses in school programs so different from appropriate age, cultural, or ethnic norms that they adversely affect educational performance, including academic, social, vocational or personal skills, and which: (a) is more than a temporary, expected response to stressful events in the environment; (b) is consistently exhibited in two different settings, at one of which is school related; and (c) persists despite individualized interventions within the education program, unless in the judgments of the team, the child’s or youth’s history indicates that such interventions would not be effective. (Forness and Knitzer 1992: 12) However, Forness and Kavale (2000) have pointed out that proposed federal adoption of EBD in place of the narrower SED construct met with opposition from local school boards (education authorities within states that govern provision of (public) K-12 (kindergarten to 12th year)) education. School boards, charged to fund and administer SEN services, were concerned that implementing the more inclusive category of EBD would expand provision costs proportionate to increased demand. Currently, in the USA the federal definition of EBD is established in the IDEA (Individuals with Disabilities Education Act) law governing the provision of SEN services: A condition exhibiting one or more of the following characteristics over a long period of time and to a marked degree, which adversely affects a child’s educational performance: a. An inability to learn which cannot be explained by intellectual, sensory, or health factors; b. An inability to build or maintain satisfactory relationships with peers and teachers; c. Inappropriate types of behavior or feelings under normal circumstances; 36

ADHD and children with SEBD

d. A general pervasive mood of unhappiness or depression; or e. A tendency to develop physical symptoms or fears associated with personal and school problems. The term includes schizophrenia. The term does not apply to children who are socially maladjusted, unless it is determined that they have an emotional disturbance under [the first part of this definition].

Coordinating ADHD and SEBD for practical support to those in need Both ADHD and SEBD originated in medical traditions, and neither construct represents an exact science. Definitional issues have challenged the disciplines and professions interested in educating children who present challenging, disaffected or disruptive behaviours in the classroom. Reviews of literature reveal a convoluted history of scientific and social understandings applied to those characteristics of ADHD and EBD/SEBD (Cooper and Bilton 1999). Sometimes, these two constructs are conflated by those who mistake them for the same thing. This confusion is natural when comparing behaviours and other characteristics of ADHD and EBD/SEBD, but on closer scrutiny it is clear that while related, they are not the same. ‘The terminology applied to ADHD and related problems has been used in different ways at different times and by different groups of people’ (NICE 2009: 104). The same may be said of EBD/SEBD. Evolving terminology should not be taken as evidence of invalidity, but of developing scientific and social knowledge. At the legal level there are significant differences with important implications for how one goes about getting help for the child, family and school involved. However, these differences are not particular to SEBD/ADHD. Rather they are systemic differences that affect the distribution of resources. When it comes to the fundamental nature of SEBD and ADHD as constructs, the differences are far less pronounced, especially when considered from an educational perspective (and an educational perspective is implied here, since SEBD is not a term widely used outside of educational circles). SEBD covers any social and/or emotional and/or behavioural manifestation that interferes with educational (or any other form of) engagement with other people and/or causes distress or harm to the individual. It is both an advantage and disadvantage of the construct that it enables SEBD to be construed in individual, social-ecological or interactional terms. Understood, and applied appropriately, this leads to flexibility and subtlety in the construction of understandings of difficulties (e.g. bio-ecological, ecosystemic). However, this broad, less precise approach sometimes leads to difficulties when SEBD is construed in a restricted way, e.g. a belief that only environmental and social causes and remedies are valid. A practical approach to helping those in need suggests that ADHD becomes a valuable subcomponent of SEBD. ADHD brings to SEBD a clarity and precision in relation to particular manifestations of attentional and/or activity problems (which are commonly identified in SEBD). In particular, it helps to distinguish between episodic ‘pseudo-ADHD’ and genuine ADHD. The massive research base to ADHD also helps to identify patterns of causation and influence, which in turn help in the search for interventions, and assists in the evolution of the SEBD construct towards a more comprehensive account which incorporates biology with social ecology. The SEBD umbrella helps ADHD in the sense that it encourages an emphasis to be placed on the educational environment. SEBD addresses this through a critical analysis of the diagnostic 37

Katherine Bilton and Paul Cooper

criteria (i.e. identifying the underlying assumptions contained in the criteria regarding what a ‘normal’ classroom looks like and what ‘normal behaviour’ in classrooms is). This encourages an ecological awareness that is not evident in the criteria itself but is present in some of the literature around ADHD (Barkley 1990; Pellegrini and Horvat 1995; Purdie et al. 2002). The ultimate point here is that when we look at ADHD through the lens of SEBD, we find it a very useful tool for helping schools, teachers, parents and children make the best of the situation by enabling the construction of a genuinely bio-ecological (or biopsychosocial) approach (Cooper 1999). This approach leads to constructive interventions only possible when this combining of the constructs is achieved.

References American Psychiatric Association (2000) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. (4th edn, text revision). Washington, DC: American Psychiatric Association. Barkley, R.A. (1990) Attention Deficit Disorder: A Handbook for Diagnosis and Treatment. New York: Guilford Press. Barkley, R.A., Fischer, M., Smallish, L., et al. (2006) ‘Young adult outcomes of hyperactive children: adaptive functioning in major life activities’. Journal of the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry 45: 192–202. Biederman, J., Faraone, S.V., Keenan, K., et al. (1992) ‘Further evidence for family genetic risk factors in attention deficit hyperactivity disorder: Patterns of comorbidity in probands and relatives psychiatrically and pediatrically referred samples’. Archives of General Psychiatry 49: 728–38. Birnbaum, H.G., Kessler, R.C., Lowe, S.W., et al. (2005) ‘Costs of attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) in the US: Excess costs of persons with ADHD and their family members in 2000’. Current Medical Research and Opinion 21: 195–206. Cole, T. (1998) ‘Understanding challenging behaviours: Pre-requisites to inclusion’. In C. Tilstone, L. Florian and R. Rose (eds), Promoting Inclusive Education. London: Routledge. Cole, T., Visser, J. and Upton, G. (1998) Effective Schooling for Pupils with Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. London: David Fulton. Conrad, P. and Schneider, J. (1992) Deviance and Medicalization: From Badness to Sickness. Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Cooper, P. (1999) ‘The further evolution of emotional and behavioural difficulties: Bringing the biopsychosocial approach into education’. In P. Cooper (ed.), Understanding and Supporting Children with Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. London: Jessica Kingsley. Cooper, P. and Bilton, K. (1999) ADHD: Research, Practice and Opinion. London: Whurr Publishing. Cooper, P. and Ideus, K. (1995) ‘Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder: A trojan horse?’ Support for Learning 10: 29–34. ——(2007) ‘Is attention deficit hyperactivity disorder a Trojan Horse?’ Article first published online in Support for Learning Vol. 10, Issue 1, February 1995–31 May 2007: 29–34. de Graaf, R., Kessler, R.C., Fayyad, J., ten Have, M., Alonso, J., Angermeyer, M., Borges, G., Demyttenaere, K., Gasquet, I., de Girolamo, G., Haro, J.M. et al. (2008) ‘The prevalence and effects of adult attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) on the performance of workers: Results from the WHO World Mental Health Survey Initiative’. Occupational Environmental Medicine 65(12): 835–42. Department for Education and Skills (November 2001) Special Educational Needs Code of Practice, Ref DfES/ 581/2001, www.education.gov.uk/publications/eOrderingDownload/DfES%200581%20200MIG2228.pdf. Faraone, S.V. and Biederman, J. (2005) ‘What is the prevalence of adult ADHD? Results of a population screen of 966 adults’. Journal of Attention Disorders 9: 380–91. Forness, S. and Kavale, K. (2000) ‘Emotional or behavioural disorders: Background and current status of the E/BD terminology and definition’. Behavioural Disorders 25(3): 264–69. Forness, S.R. and Knitzer, J. (1992) ‘A new proposed definition and terminology to replace “serious emotional disturbance” in Individuals with Disabilities Education Act’. School Psychology Review 21: 12–20, www.sagepub.com/upm-data/7271_zionts_ch_1.pdf. Foucault, M. (1988) Madness and Civilization: A History of Insanity in the Age of Reason. New York: Vintage Books. Hinshaw, S.P. (2005) ‘The stigmatization of mental illness in children and parents: Developmental issues, family concerns, and research needs’. The Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry 46: 714–34. 38

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Kauffman, J. (2001) Characteristics of Emotional and Behavioural Disorders of Children and Youth (7th edition). New Jersey: Merrill Prentice Hall. Mann, T. (1996) Clinical guidelines: Using Clinical Guidelines to Improve Patient Care Within the NHS. Leeds: NHS Executive. n.a. (2011) ‘United Kingdom Education Act’. In Encyclopædia Britannica. www.britannica.com/ EBchecked/topic/179522/Education-Act (12 May 2011). NICE (2009) Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. Diagnosis and Management of ADHD in Children, Young People and Adults. National Clinical Practice Guideline Number 72. Leicester, UK: The British Psychological Society and The Royal College of Psychiatrists. Nutt, D.J., Fone, K., Asherson, P., et al. (2007) ‘Evidence-based guidelines for management of attention-deficit/ hyperactivity disorder in adolescents in transition to adult services and in adults: Recommendations from the British Association for Psychopharmacology’. Journal of Psychopharmacology 21, 1: 10–41. Ofsted (1999) Principles into Practice: Effective Education for Pupils with EBD. HMI report. London: Ofsted. Pelham, W.E., Foster, E.M. and Robb, J.A. (2007) ‘The economic impact of attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder in children and adolescents’. Journal of Pediatric Psychology 32: 711–27. Pellegrini, A. and Horvat, M. (1995) ‘A developmental contextualised critique of AD/HD’. Educational Researcher 249 (10): 13–20. Polanczyk, G., Silva de Lima, M., Horta, B.H., et al. (2007) ‘The worldwide prevalence of ADHD: A systematic review and metaregression analysis’. American Journal of Psychiatry 164: 942–48. Purdie, N., Hattie, J. and Carroll, A. (2002) ‘A review of the research on interventions for attention deficit hyperactivity disorder: What works best?’ Review of Educational Research 72: 61–99. Roy, P., Rutter, M. and Pickles, A. (2000) ‘Institutional care: Risk from family background or pattern of rearing?’ The Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry 41: 139–49. Secnik, K., Swensen, A. and Lage, M.J. (2005) ‘Comorbidities and costs of adult patients diagnosed with attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder’. Pharmacoeconomics 23: 93–102. Taylor, E., Chadwick, O., Heptinstall, E., et al. (1996) ‘Hyperactivity and conduct problems as risk factors for adolescent development’. Journal of the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry 35: 1213–26. Taylor, E. and Sonuga-Barke, E. (2008) ‘Disorders of attention and activity’. In M. Rutter, E. Taylor, J.S. Stevenson, et al. (eds), Child and Adolescent Psychiatry (5th edn). London: Blackwell. Underwood Report (1955) Report of the Committee on Maladjusted Children. London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office. US Centers for Disease Control, National Center on Birth Defects and Developmental Disabilities, and Division of Human Development and Disabilities (2011) ADHD home page. www.cdc.gov/ncbddd/adhd/ data.html (14 May 2011). US Department of Education (2004) Individuals with Disabilities Education Act, 20 USC §1400. Warnock Committee (1978) Special Educational Needs: The Warnock Report. London: DES. Whitaker, Robert (2004) Mad in America: Bad Science, Bad Medicine, and the Enduring Mistreatment of the Mentally Ill. Basic Books. World Health Organization (1992) The ICD-10 Classification of Mental and Behavioural Disorders: Clinical Descriptions and Diagnostic Guidelines. Geneva: World Health Organization. Young, S. (2007) ‘Forensic aspects of ADHD’. In M. Fitzgerald, M. Bellgrove and M. Gill (eds), Handbook of Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder. Chichester: John Wiley.

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5 Institutional labeling and pupil careers Negotiating identities of children who do not fit in Eva Hjörne and Roger Säljö

Introduction The question, ‘What is it really?’ ‘What is its right name?’ is a nonsense question … one that is not capable of being answered … When we name something, then, we are classifying. The individual object or event we are naming, of course, has no name and belongs to no class until we put it in one … What we call things and where we draw the line between one class of things and another depend upon the interest we have and the purposes of the classification … Most intellectual problems are, ultimately, problems of classification and nomenclature. (Hayakawa 1965: 215–16)

Categories and classifications play an important role in life in general, and they are significant elements of institutions and institutional practices in particular. Through the use of categories, institutions define what the nature of a problem is and what measures are relevant to take. Institutions ‘think and act’ through categories, as Douglas (1986) puts it. Through categorizing, the institution puts similar ‘things’ together, and entities of ‘dubious standing lose their ambiguity’ (Douglas 1986: 59). Thus, categories and classification systems serve as resources by means of which objects, people and events will be understood by representatives of institutions, and they are also consequential for action. The category, metaphorically speaking, becomes the link between the individual and the collective (Bowker and Star 2000). In the context of schooling, categories are frequently used for a range of activities and for characterizing pupils and their abilities, behaviors, backgrounds and school careers. In the present case, our interest is in categories that are used for explaining difficulties in school. Since mandatory schooling began in Western societies, problems of how to organize instructional practices for children who cannot cope with the normal classroom routines have been on the agenda (Mehan et al. 2002). Through history different categories have been used (see Table 5.1), and it is obvious that, in hindsight, these manners of classifying children’s difficulties reflect the 40

Institutional labeling and pupil careers

Table 5.1 Categorizing school problems: sociogenesis of categorizing practices Moral/religious discourse (19th century)

Psychological/ Pedagogical/medical Social/psychological Neuropsychiatric medical discourse discourse (1930s) discourse (1960s) discourse (from (early 20th century) 1990s)

vicious nailbiters naughty lazy idle

feeble-minded weak idiot deficient

poor vagrant

imbecile stupidity

psychopath nervous

rejected aggressive

ADHD Asperger’s Tourette’s

hysteric

poor home conditions immature dullard

CD (conduct disorder) dyscalculia dyslexia

word-blind left-handed

discourses of their time. During the nineteenth century, for example, children were classified as vicious, lazy, nailbiters, poor, and also categories referring to the ethnic origin of children of minority groups were used. The material consequences of the use of such categories were that the children were subjected to various kinds of special education or were not allowed to move to the next grade in school (Börjesson and Palmblad 2003; Nordström 1968). In the twentieth century intelligence testing entered the stage, and children were categorized as, for example, idiots, half-idiots, morons, weak, imbeciles, etc., and placed in special classes accordingly (Mercer 1973). A consistent element of these classification practices has been, and still is, that they are used as diagnostic devices by means of which children are taken out of mainstream classrooms and placed in classes where the pedagogy is supposed to be adapted to their abilities. Whether what the pedagogy children have been exposed to has been suited to their needs is far from clear. At present, children’s problems in school are frequently interpreted through the uses of neuropsychiatric diagnoses, such as ADHD (attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder), Asperger’s, dyslexia and a range of other conditions. In schools, such neuropsychiatric classifications seem to be used alongside traditional explanations that characterize children as ‘weak,’ ‘intellectually slow,’ ‘immature,’ and so on. A general observation in much research in different countries is that categories of this kind continue the tradition of individualizing children’s difficulties; the problems of the child are ‘treated as if they are his private and personal possession’ (Mehan 1986: 154). Similar categorizing practices have been reported from the UK (see, for example, Hester 1998), the Netherlands (Verkuyten 2002) and Sweden (Hjörne and Säljö 2004, 2010). As Deschenes et al. (2001: 54) put it, this reliance on ‘categories of individual failure’ as dominant explanatory constructs has ‘left school structures largely intact.’ In addition, diagnoses of this kind seem to serve as arguments for providing extra resources to a school or a class. Thus, there is something to be gained by having a child diagnosed. However, the diagnostic tradition is problematic in several respects. For instance, the diagnosis is often ‘uncertain and highly influenced by the existing cultural values’ (Haug 1998: 16, our translation). Furthermore, the diagnoses concern children who are young and developing rapidly, and this implies that the prognostic value will often be limited. The frequent uses of diagnoses may also have a number of other consequences that have been pointed to in the literature. For example, it is well known that ‘people spontaneously come to fit their categories’ (Hacking 1986: 223). This implies that there is a clear tendency that the categories used will generate people who fit into them as carriers of that particular problem. Furthermore, the diagnosis will be ‘a symbolic vehicle for the identity processes of the child’ (Abbey and Valsiner 2003: 1), and, as Thomas and Loxley (2001: 76) express it, ‘to be called “special” is 41

Eva Hjörne and Roger Säljö

to be given a new identity within the schooling system.’ In a Swedish study of remedial classes (Ljusberg 2009), the results show that pupils with diagnoses were described by other pupils in the school ‘as failures, as DAMP [deficit, attention and motor control problems] (i.e. ADHD) kids, as idiots and as stupid’ (Ljusberg 2009: 56). This illustrates a significant element of the social construction of identities; categories are constitutive of the construction of identities, and they will be used for many purposes outside the boundaries of their alleged medical definitions. Thus, the diagnosis operates as a kind of filter through which everyone involved—the child, the parents, teachers, classmates and others—interpret and understand different behaviors and problems. In this sense, the diagnosis will be ‘the relevant thing’ (Edwards 1998: 19) about the child in many settings, and this will have consequences for the child throughout his or her education and later in life.

Pupil health teams and the interpretation of school difficulties In this chapter, observations from the work in pupil health teams as well as analysis from a special teaching group in a Swedish comprehensive school will be reported. The pupil health team is at the heart of the process of finding, defining and accounting for school problems. The team is also responsible for handling problems productively by providing viable solutions that maximize the chances that the child will have a successful educational career and be able to return to his/her regular class. Categories and processes of categorization are central operative instruments in this important work. Handling school difficulties implies that it is necessary to develop reasonably shared procedures by means of which the various actors at the pupil health team meetings—head teachers, teachers, special needs teachers, psychologists, school nurses and others (on some occasions even the parents of a child are included in this process)—can talk to one another, articulate the problems reported and discuss solutions that all parties can accept. Some agreement has to emerge on issues such as which pupils have difficulties reaching the goals in school that are so serious that some measures have to be taken, what the nature of their difficulties is, and what kind of special support should be given to a particular pupil. The members of the team have to discuss what interventions and resources are available. In these practices, categories, which are perceived by members as informative, legitimate and productive when understanding pupils’ assumed difficulties, will be put to use. The categories will serve a gap-closing function in bridging between a perceived problem and possible solutions. Below we will show some examples from different contexts where the category ADHD is used to solve problems that have been brought to the attention of the pupil health team. First, the category is suggested as an account of maladjustment and deviant behaviors, and second it is argued that the child should be examined for a possible disorder in order to receive additional resources.

Excerpt 1: Anton, seven years old Yes, this is about a boy, Anton and – uhm, he started here last year as a six-year-old and uhm – HEADMASTER: He is now in? 1 ASSISTANT PRINCIPAL: He is still a six year old ’cause he started – no, he’s not six years old, but he is in class zero.

TURN 1 ASSISTANT PRINCIPAL:

2 3

4… 5 ASSISTANT PRINCIPAL:

He was rarely in school and was seen as rather immature for starting school … his one year older brother, uhm, went here shortly for some months and then in the small group, uhm, and he is still in this small group.

42

Institutional labeling and pupil careers

6 PSYCHOLOGIST:

Mm.

7 ASSISTANT PRINCIPAL:

8 9

And he has an ADHD diagnosis and we felt a bit that the little brother either he might have the same problem, but that he, uhm, he has been seeing his brother that much so he did not have any normal behavior. PSYCHOLOGIST: No. ASSISTANT PRINCIPAL: To relate to.

10 … 11 ASSISTANT PRINCIPAL:

Uhm, during last year we came to the conclusion that the boy should, uhm, restart a year this autumn, in, in class zero again (2) and that A. [the psychologist, our comment] wrote a referral to child psychiatry in order to get an examination to see if it was an ADHD or some kind of letter combination2 and, uhm, he received an assistant from autumn.

In this excerpt Anton is introduced as a boy having difficulties in school, which have resulted in an examination for ADHD. He is described as likely to have ADHD, since his brother is known to have this diagnosis, and since he has been seeing his brother ‘ that much so he did not have any normal behavior … to relate to’ (turns 7, 9). The team members seem to have a clear picture of what it means to have an ADHD diagnosis and what problematic behavior this condition implies without commenting on his problems in more explicit terms, for instance by discussing what has happened in class or in what situations problems occur. The diagnosis seems to close the gap between the problems perceived by the team members and the need for extra resources. Anton receives an assistant while waiting for an ADHD diagnosis. The problem above is construed by the participants as a question of defining what is problematic about the child. The category used refers to the child and his inability to meet the expectations of a normal child already in Grade 0 and now it is continuing when he is repeating Grade 0. What the expectations of a normal child are is not made explicit but seems to be taken for granted. Furthermore, in the case of Anton the team is invoking and arguing for an ADHD diagnosis by referring to the older brother, who they know has this diagnosis. This observation is perceived as relevant and treated as if it supports the likelihood that Anton has the same problem. The logic of the argumentation implies that the team members decide to consider Anton as an ADHD pupil, and his future school career will be premised on this assumption. The logic of the health team’s institutional practice is that the aim of the person introducing the pupil to the team members is to reach consensus that the child is a pupil in need of special support. Otherwise there would be little point in discussing him or her in the meeting. In this situation, the category ADHD seems to serve as a useful tool to reach consensus, since the criteria are symptomatic and vague, and many different kinds of behaviors can be argued to fit the diagnosis. The category thus effectively bridges over to the next step, which is to offer some kind of alternative schooling. The work that the category does for the members can be seen in the following excerpt, which relates to Axel, who is also seven years old.

Excerpt 2: Axel, seven years old TURN 1 ASSISTANT PRINCIPAL:

The psychologist talked about him being in line for the small

group – 2 SCHOOL NURSE:

Yes.

3 ASSISTANT PRINCIPAL:

4

But if he gets a place I don’t know (2) so as the situation is right now we need – there’s got to be an [assistant]. SCHOOL NURSE: Mmm (2) what kind of diagnosis was it [?] 43

Eva Hjörne and Roger Säljö

5 ASSISTANT PRINCIPAL:

ADHD. I see, that was just as [well]. ASSISTANT PRINCIPAL: Mmm. SCHOOL NURSE: I mean that it [finally] happened. ASSISTANT PRINCIPAL: Mmm.

6 SCHOOL NURSE: 7 8 9

The comment made by the school nurse that ‘that was just as well’ (turn 6) shows a relief of having a confirmation that Axel has a diagnosis which, in turn, will solve the problem at hand. Her next comment ‘that it finally happened’ (8) makes this even more obvious. The diagnosis is construed as the end point of an institutional process and a platform on which the demands for additional resources (a personal assistant or a placement in a special class) can be successfully launched. However, as we mentioned earlier, such categorizing practices have obvious consequences for the pupil. As Thomas and Loxley (2001) put it in the quotation above, to be talked about as ‘special’ implies an identity transformation from one state (normal) to an alternative one (deviant). Hence, classifying children in a very real sense can be seen as ‘a step in a child’s career in school’ (Mehan 1991: 81), and ‘when known by people or by those around them, and put to work in institutions,’ categories may well even ‘change the ways in which individuals experience themselves’ (Hacking 1999: 104). This element of identity formation will be illustrated by an excerpt from our ethnographic data from within a special teaching group arranged for children diagnosed with ADHD. In the interaction between the teacher and the pupils, the diagnosis is sometimes explicitly used as a tool for correcting pupils and for reminding them of their difficulties. In this manner the teachers make the pupil aware of their shortcomings and confirm their identities as disabled pupils. Actually, in this case this is also one of the main purposes of the activities in the classroom according to their Working Plan (individual education plan)—to make the pupils aware of their difficulties.

Excerpt 3: Playing letter-bingo According to the timetable the children are to have ‘games’ and they are playing letter-bingo. All the pupils get their counters. Kenny is dissatisfied with his and throws a counter at Chris and shouts. 1 KENNY:

ADHD kid[!] That was an impulse—children with ADHD have impulses.

2 TEACHER:

In this excerpt the teacher makes use of what happened when Kenny refers to Chris as an ‘ADHD kid.’ She reminds the children of their dysfunction by saying: ‘that was an impulse—children with ADHD have impulses,’ which she knows to be one of the symptoms associated with the ADHD diagnosis. By making use of this predicate of an ADHD child and by turning it against Kenny, the social identity of the pupil is publicly communicated and confirmed as a relevant manner of addressing the boy (Freebody and Freiberg 2000; Hester 1998). When discussing with the teachers about making the pupils aware of their difficulties and their diagnoses, the teachers mention pupils who have succeeded in identifying themselves in this manner.

Interview 1 TURN 1 TEACHER 1: 2 TEACHER 2:

44

I think Chris can understand his problems. He can learn to understand them.

Institutional labeling and pupil careers

3 TEACHER 1:

Even though he cannot always handle them, he can understand that he is

different. 4 TEACHER 2:

Yes. What about the other children? 6 TEACHER 2: We talk to them, not the new ones, there we haven’t gotten anywhere really, but Stephen … 7 TEACHER 1: And Johnny understands it. 8 TEACHER 2: And Johnny understands his problems. 9 TEACHER 1: And so the others have done as well. 10 TEACHER 2: Carl did realize this. 11 TEACHER 1: We didn’t think that really that we could get him out … 5 RESEARCHER:

In this interview it is obvious that an important teacher strategy is to teach the pupils to understand their problems as connected to their diagnoses. The teachers argue that they ‘talk to them’ (6), and through such efforts the pupils eventually learn that they have ‘problems of a specific kind’ and that they can ‘understand’ that they are different from other children. This intentional attempt at identity formation implies that the children, through some kind of insight, will agree to accept that they are not ‘normal’ but rather ‘deviant.’ The teachers also mention in the interview that they themselves have learned about children’s expected shortcomings in a supervision situation with outside experts. In this case they have learned about Tourette’s syndrome and what problematic and disruptive behaviors they should expect from children with this diagnosis.

Interview 2 TURN 1 TEACHER 1:

2 3 4

5

I think it will be difficult when we receive too many with Tourette’s syndrome ’cause they cannot even handle each other. TEACHER 2: It will be a clash. RESEARCHER: They have more difficulties with that? TEACHER 1: Oh yes, there will be a lot, they have it much more difficult, yes they do, and it was the supervision we had at the beginning then it said sort of that those with Tourette’s syndrome maybe never can be part of a group at all, they are kind of on the side, ’cause they have these obsessions and compulsive acts and the tics, and it’s lots of things of this kind. TEACHER 2: Mmm.

…

It’s more like a mental affection, and then it this about that they can’t finish things when they have started to work then they can’t finish, first there is very much about starting up and when they have got started they can’t stop.

6 TEACHER 2:

In this extract we see that the teachers have been instructed to expect certain behaviors from children diagnosed with Tourette’s syndrome. These children are expected to have ‘obsessions and compulsive acts and the tics’ (4). Furthermore, they are expected to have difficulties to ‘finish things when they have started to work’ (6). Ascribing certain problematic behaviors to children implies that a specific social identity that will be consequential for the child is also construed. The expectations introduced make it likely that the child’s behavior will be understood in terms of the identity of having a specific kind of disorder. The diagnosis will be part of the institutional ‘stock of knowledge’ (Berger and Luckmann 1966), and may be mobilized in a range of social situations. 45

Eva Hjörne and Roger Säljö

Discussion The acceptance of neuropsychiatric categories as viable means of understanding children’s problems suggests the grip of a diagnostic culture on the school system. The individualization—and medicalization—of problems implies that the focus is on the child and his or her alleged shortcomings. This has obvious implications for the child, the school and for society. For the school, established practices and structures may be left more or less as they are, since the consequences that follow imply that children are taken out of their regular classroom and placed somewhere where their problems are seen as expressions of their condition and diagnosis. Diagnoses operate as tools at different levels: they are means for requesting and distributing resources; they are principles for organizing instruction; they may be used in classrooms for reminding children of their alleged handicap and correcting their behaviors; and they will eventually shape the identity of the child. This multi-level process is reminiscent of the central role of discourse that Foucault (1972, 1988) noted in his ground-breaking work on the shaping of individuals and the emergence of ‘technologies of the self.’ In the activities we have followed, the discourse of neuropsychiatry operates as ‘practices that systematically form the objects of which they speak’ (Foucault 1972: 54) in very much the manner in which Foucault argued. All parties involved have access to fragments of such discursive constructions, and they use them as accounts of maladjustment in school. As we have tried to illustrate, they are also used in interaction with children to have them construe their own behaviors as logical extensions of their condition. The assumption seems to be that teaching children to adopt an identity will serve as a ‘technology of the self’ and shape future behavior. The long-term consequences of such attempts to shape identities need to be explored in depth.

Notes 1 The terms ‘six year olds’ and ‘class zero’ refer to the mandatory preparatory class that children attend at age six. 2 The expressions ‘letter combination’ or ‘letter children’ are often used when talking about children who are diagnosed with abbreviations such as ADHD.

References Abbey, E. and Valsiner, J. (2003) ‘Going to No-where: The role of diagnosis in educational practice’. Paper presented at EARLI conference, Padova, 27 August. Berger, P. and Luckmann, T. (1966) The Social Construction of Reality: A Treatise in the Sociology of Knowledge. New York: Doubleday. Börjesson, M. and Palmblad, E. (2003) I problembarnens tid. Förnuftets moraliska ordning. [In the time of the problem children. The moral order of reason]. Stockholm: Carlssons bokförlag. Bowker, G. and Star, S.L. (2000) Sorting Things Out. Classification and its Consequences. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press. Deschenes, S., Cuban, L. and Tyack, D. (2001) ‘Mismatch: Historical perspectives on schools and students who don’t fit them’. Teachers College Record 103(4): 525–47. Douglas, M. (1986) How Institutions Think. Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press. Edwards, E. (1998) ‘The relevant thing about her: Social identity in use’. In C. Antaki and S. Widdicombe (eds), Identities in talk. London: Sage, 87–106. Foucault, M. (1972) The Archeology of Knowledge. London: Tavistock. ——(1988) ‘Technologies of the self’. In L.H. Martin (ed.), Technologies of the Self: A Seminar with Michel Foucault. London: Tavistock, 16–49. Freebody, P. and Freiberg, J. (2000) ‘Public and pedagogic morality. The local orders of instructional and regulatory talk in classrooms’. In S. Hester (ed.), Local Education Order. Ethnomethodological Studies of Knowledge in Action. Philadelphia, PA: John Benjamins Publishing, 141–62. 46

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Hacking, I. (1986) ‘Making up people’. In T.C. Heller, M. Sosna and D. Wellbery (eds), Reconstructing individualism. Autonomy, Individuality, and the Self in Western Thought. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 222–36. ——(1999) The Social Construction of What? Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Haug, P. (1998) Pedagogiskt Dilemma: Specialpedagogik [Pedagogical dilemma: Special education]. Stockholm: Skolverket. Hayakawa, S.I. (1965) Language in Thought and Action. London: George Allen & Unwin. Hester, S. (1998) ‘Describing “deviance” in school: Recognizably educational psychological problems’. In C. Antaki and S. Widdcombe (eds), Identities in Talk. London: Sage, 133–50. Hjörne, E. and Säljö, R. (2004) ‘“There is something about Julia”—Symptoms, categories, and the process of invoking ADHD in the Swedish school: A case study’. Journal of Learning, Identity and Education 3(1): 1–24. ——(2010) Att platsa in en skola för alla. Elevhälsa och förhandling om normalitet i den svenska skolan Med samtalsguide [To fit into a school for all. Pupil health and the negotiation of normality in the Swedish school, Including a conversation guide]. Stockholm: Norstedts. Ljusberg, A. (2009) Pupils in Remedial Classes. Diss, Stockholm: Stockholm University. Mehan, H. (1986) ‘The role of language and the language of role in institutional decision making’. In S. Fischer and A. Dundas Todd (eds), Discourse and Institutional Authority: Medicine, Education, and Law. Hillsdale, NJ: Ablex, 141–63. ——(1991) ‘The school’s work of sorting students’. In D. Boden and D.H. Zimmerman (eds), Talk and Social Structure. Studies in Ethnomethodology and Conversation Analysis. Cambridge, England: Polity Press, 71–90. Mehan, H., Mercer, J.R. and Rueda, R. (2002) ‘Special Education’. In D.L Levinson, P.W. Cookson, Jr and A.R. Sadovnik (eds), Education and Sociology. New York, NY: RoutledgeFalmer, 619–24. Mercer, J. (1973) Labeling the Mentally Retarded. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Nordström, S.G. (1968) Hjälpskolan och Särskolan i Sverige t o m 1921 [The remedial school and the special school in Sweden up until 1921]. Stockholm: Föreningen för svensk undervisningshistoria, vol. 119. Thomas, G. and Loxley, A. (2001) Deconstructing Special Education and Constructing Inclusion. Buckingham: The Open University Press. Verkuyten, M. (2002) ‘Making teachers accountable for students’ disruptive classroom behaviour’. British Journal of Sociology of Education 23(1): 107–22.

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6 Youth offending and emotional and behavioural difficulties Carol Hayden

Introduction It is probably a minority of children who grow up without ever behaving in ways contrary to the law. (HMSO 1969: 3) Adult criminality almost always follows a developmental path that begins with childhood delinquency and or conduct disorder of one form or another. (Smith 1995, in Cooper 1998: 43) It may be too much to say that if we reformed our schools, we would have no need of prisons. But if we better engaged our children and young people in education we would certainly have less need of prisons. (Morgan 2007: xiii) We were struck by a far greater cross-party consensus about the causes of criminality than in the past, which bodes well for consistent policy-making. Most witnesses outlined a set of risk factors for offending which centred on family dysfunction, school and community under-achievement and poverty. The evidence suggests that these factors cluster in the lives of the most deprived children, and that these children are significantly more likely to offend than their counterparts who are not at-risk. (House of Commons 2011: paragraph 24)

The opening quotations from English commentators illustrate a number of well-known truths about offending behaviour: law breaking is common, highly problematic behaviour increases the likelihood of adult criminality, problems at (and with) schools are common in the childhood of prisoners, and the ‘risk factors’ associated with offending behaviour are well known. How children with emotional and behavioural difficulties (EBD) fit into these patterns is the focus of this chapter. Despite being relatively common, most law breaking in childhood is not serious and does not necessarily lead to adult criminality. Research evidence on persisting in and desisting from anti-social 48

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behaviour (defined by Rutter et al. 1998 as criminal behaviour, whether or not it is detected) would indicate that the more serious and persistent forms can be detected as early as age three, in the form of oppositional and hyperactive behaviour (arguably both forms of EBD). An important distinction is made between ‘adolescent-limited’ and ‘life course persistent’ anti-social behaviour. However, it is emphasised that ‘nothing is cast in stone’ and a range of life events and other opportunities and circumstances can play a part in helping anti-social behaviour to continue or cease (Rutter et al. 1998: 307). Cooper (1998) makes specific reference to ‘conduct disorder’, which is characterised by aggressive, impulsive rule breaking and anti-social or criminal behaviour, as well as truancy from school (Loeber et al. 1998). In other words, the various labels associated with EBD, whether or not these difficulties have been formally recognised as a special educational need, are also associated with offending behaviour. The contemporary quote above, from the Coalition government in the UK House of Commons, suggests a degree of political consensus about the risk factors approach, which is strongly influenced by the work of Farrington (1996), although poverty and deprivation are also clearly acknowledged. It is in the responses to this apparent consensus that the political parties differ. Schooling, educational achievement and under-achievement are part of this mix of risk factors. The broader connection between educational experiences and offending behaviour highlighted by Rod Morgan (former Chair of the Youth Justice Board) is well known. For example, the Social Exclusion Unit (SEU) brought together some of the evidence on education and training in relation to reducing offending, key aspects of which are highlighted in Table 6.1. The SEU (2002) noted that although the evidence about reducing reoffending through education and training in prisons is well known, there are barriers to putting this into effect: for example, short sentences, where there is insufficient time to complete any course or qualification of worth; and the timing and start dates for courses and qualifications, in a context where prisoners can arrive on any day of the year. Positive educational experiences in the form of achievements at school as well as feeling connected to a school help protect children from getting involved in offending behaviour. The reverse is also true—negative and exclusionary experiences at school help create the risky conditions where offending behaviour is more likely. Attitudes and values of parents and carers are also important in this respect: those who are supportive of educational achievement help reinforce other protective factors against offending behaviour, whereas when this support is absent it may add to existing risks or vulnerabilities. Success in education and attendance at a wellorganised school with an inclusive ethos act as protective factors against the likelihood of young Table 6.1 Prisoners and education Truancy

 30% of all prisoners were regular truants while at school  85% of short-sentenced male prisoners involved in drug misuse had truanted

Exclusion

 49% of male, 33% of female sentenced prisoners were excluded from school

No qualifications and  52% of male and 71% of female adult prisoners have no qualifications at all low levels of attainment  48% of all prisoners are at or below Level 1 (the level expected of an 11 year old) in reading, 65% in numeracy, and 82% in writing. These are the skills required for 96% of all jobs Special schools

 23% of male and 11% of female sentenced prisoners went to special school

Source: (SEU 2002)

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people becoming involved in offending behaviour. Lack of success, disengagement and disruption is more typical of the backgrounds of young people involved in the more serious types of offending behaviour.

Youth offending: prevalence, trends and characteristics The two main ways of tracking the prevalence, trends and characteristics of young offenders are from official statistics of those young people who become known to the courts (some of whom will spend time in the secure estate) and self-report surveys that tell us something about patterns of offending and victimisation. At the time of writing the overall trend in official statistics about youth offending is downwards, with fewer court disposals and young people incarcerated within the secure estate. Official statistics from the Youth Justice Board and Ministry of Justice Statistics, on young people aged 10–17 in England and Wales, show the number of offences resulting in a court disposal peaking at 301,860 in 2005/06, with a continuous decline to 198,449 in 2009/10. The number of individual young people involved in these offences is smaller, at 106,969 (YJB/MoJ 2011). Young males account for over three-quarters (78 per cent) of the offences committed by young people aged 10–17 years; indeed 60 per cent of all offences committed in this age group are by young men aged 15–17 years (YJB/MoJ 2011). The most common offences resulting in a court disposal were: theft and handling (21 per cent); violence against the person (20 per cent) and criminal damage (12 per cent) (YJB/MoJ 2011). Young black people are over-represented in official statistics: 6 per cent of the offending population (compared with 3 per cent of the general population). This compares with young white people as 84 per cent of offenders (86 per cent of the general population) (YJB/MoJ 2011: 5). The number of young people in custody in what in England is called ‘the secure estate’ at any one time has fluctuated over the last decade, between 2,500 and 3,000, peaking in 2002/3 and declining to below 2,500 in 2009/10. The secure estate is made up of three types of institution: Young Offenders Institutes (for the majority), Secure Training Centres, and Secure Children’s Homes (for younger children aged 10–14 and the most vulnerable young people, some of whom are there for ‘welfare’ reasons). Offences of violence against the person, robbery, domestic burglary and breach of statutory order accounted for around 75 per cent of offences for young people in custody in 2009/10 (YJB/MoJ 2011). The prevalence of physical restraint (12 per cent), self-harm (3 per cent) and assault (8 per cent) in 2009/10 illustrate some aspects of the emotional and behavioural difficulties of these young people. Some self-report surveys of young people and self-reported offending behaviour use school samples in their investigation, either as cross-sectional surveys (YJB 2009a, 2009b) or as longitudinal research (Smith and McVie 2003) and panel surveys (Rowe and Ashe 2008). These studies show a higher prevalence of offending behaviour (23 per cent of 11–16 year olds in mainstream schools; 64 per cent for those excluded from mainstream school) than official statistics (see Table 6.2). Self-report surveys also show a bigger proportion of girls involved in offending than in official statistics. Table 6.2 compares two sources—one from official statistics and one from a self-report survey. Table 6.2 illustrates how the likelihood of offending behaviour (or at least an official record or response) increases with the most vulnerable groups of children. Specifically, children ‘looked after’ in the care system are more than two and a half times as likely to have a final warning or reprimand in a year, compared with the general population of children (7.9 per cent compared with 3.0 per cent) (DfE 2010a). It is estimated that over one-quarter (27 per cent) of all prisoners have spent some time in the care system as a child, compared with 2 per cent of the 50

Youth offending and EBD

Table 6.2 Levels of offending amongst school-age children: general population compared with children looked after for 12 months or more Indicator

%

%

Official statistics: Proportion of children aged 10–17 subject to a final warning or reprimand in a year

3.0 (general population)

7.9 (children ‘looked after’ for 12 months or more)

Self-report surveys: Proportion of children who report committing a criminal offence in a year

23.0 All 27.0 Boys 18.0 Girls (11–16 year olds in mainstream schools)

64.0 All 67.0 Boys 55.0 Girls (11–16 year olds in provision for those excluded from school)

general population (SEU 2002). Children ‘looked after’ are also more likely to have special educational needs (around half will have an SEN, of whom half will have EBD), be excluded from school, have poor attendance records and lower levels of achievement than children who have not been ‘looked after’ (DfE 2010a). All of this demonstrates the inter-connection between vulnerability and problem behaviour to the extent that some care environments might be seen as ‘criminogenic’, as they help create the conditions for offending behaviour to thrive (Hayden 2010). Recent research investigating pupil circumstances and exposure to risk, in relation to selfreported offending behaviour in school, gives some indication of the relative importance of different risk and protective factors within the school context (Boxford 2006). Boxford (2006) undertook a self-report survey of 3,103 year 10 (age 14–15) pupils in 20 state comprehensive schools in Cardiff, Wales. Pupils’ social situations (peer group, substance use and so on) and individual dispositions were found to be strong predictors of offending in school. The overall prevalence of offending behaviour ranged from 10.5 per cent to 31.7 per cent across the 20 schools. A higher prevalence of offending was positively correlated with the presence of highfrequency offenders. It could be argued that some school environments are also ‘criminogenic’, adding to the risks of children who are placed in a ‘risky school’, particularly those who are already at risk or vulnerable in other ways and whose parents are less likely to be able to exercise a ‘choice’ over where they go to school. EBD accounts for over one-quarter (27.2 per cent in January 2010) of all identified SEN in state schools and 14.7 per cent of all statements of SEN (DfE 2010b). Stephenson argues that the way EBD is defined embraces many children with multiple problems: providing considerable scope for varying and subjective judgements. Given the multiple problems that young people who are excluded have, it is difficult to see why many, if not virtually all, do not fit within this category. (Stephenson 2007: 71) This argument is important given the strong evidence that exclusion from school is in itself an additional risk in relation to offending behaviour (Hayden and Martin 1998). The inter-connection between children excluded from school, highly problematic behaviour (some of it recognised as special educational needs), stressful home circumstances, being in care, and poverty are well documented (Hayden 1997; Hayden 2007; Hayden and Martin 2011). 51

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The connection between problematic behaviour and socio-economic disadvantage has also been recognised for some time now; this inter-relates specifically with children and EBD. Many children with EBD come from relatively poor families, with proportionately more being entitled to free school meals (provided in the middle of the school day), in comparison with other children in mainstream schools (or indeed special schools in general), as Table 6.3 illustrates. The same analysis shows that children with EBD are amongst the lowest achievers in terms of academic attainment (DfE 2010b).

Explaining the connections between EBD and offending behaviour A common criticism of the risk factors approach to explaining the cause of criminality is that it appears to be very focused on individual circumstances and risks and the individual’s motivations to change. This individual focus can then appear to take insufficient account of context and social environment and the way that this can affect the options available to people and the decisions they ultimately make. On the other hand, too much emphasis on broader social processes, such as poverty and inequality, can seem deterministic and ignore the fact that most people from poor backgrounds do not get an official record of offending, whilst some people from privileged backgrounds do. This section reviews the evidence and how this relates to the connection between EBD and offending behaviour.

Individual—impulsivity, aggression and ‘being male’ Of the range of behaviours that may be referred to as EBD, some particular behaviours, such as impulsivity, have been frequently singled out in relation to offending behaviour. Researchers and practitioners from various fields have linked impulsivity to what is often referred to as antisocial behaviour. Psychiatrists in turn consider impulsivity an important part of many antisocial personality disorders including attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), borderline personality disorder (BPD), and conduct disorder (CD). In the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-IV) (American Psychiatric Association 1994), impulsivity is included in the diagnostic criteria for ADHD and BPD. Impulsivity is also part of the working definition of the psychopathic personality. As part of various antisocial personality disorders, impulsivity has been associated with substance misuse, suicide, and delinquency in childhood and adulthood (Farrington et al. 1990), as well as anger, aggressiveness and violence (Fossati et al. 2004). We have already noted how males are more likely to be convicted of crime. Indeed they make up around 95 per cent of the prison population. The pattern in the secure estate is only slightly different at 96 per cent male (YJB/MoJ 2011). However, the girls and young women in both the prison population and secure estate tend if anything to have more severe problems than males (SEU 2002). Highly problematic ‘acting out’, violent and aggressive behaviour is more common from males than females. These behaviours demand the attention of teachers. Table 6.3 Free school meals, by type of school and by statement of EBD Mainstream secondary school

Mainstream primary school

Special schools

Children with EBD statements*

17.4%

14.2%

33.3%

39.0%

Note: * These children may be in any type of school, so the percentage receiving free school meals in special schools may be higher. Source: (DfE 2010b)

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Internalising behaviours (such as depression and self-harming) are more common with girls and can get ignored in the classroom. These gender differences in behaviour are reflected in the different types of bullying behaviour from males and females, as well as different rates of exclusion from school (around four males to one female). Boys are more likely to have identified special educational needs and they outnumber girls by more than two to one (63,060 boys to 25,460 girls) in special schools (DfE 2010b). Boys are also much more likely to be assessed as having EBD, around three times as many identified as needing ‘Schools Action Plus’ individualised support (see Introduction to Section I) and more than six times as many as girls in relation to a statement of EBD (26,170 boys compared with 3,590 girls) (DfE 2010b). Particular ethnic groups, notably African-Caribbean, mixed heritage African-Caribbean and White, Irish Travellers and Roma Gypsies are more strongly represented amongst children assessed as having special educational needs and, again, particularly EBD (DfE 2010b). So, what the official data increasingly illustrate is a number of very specific problems with different groups of boys as well as girls (although in smaller numbers). Ethnicity is important in relation to the choices made and the response of the system (notably in relation to exclusion), but a crucial issue is relative poverty. Increasingly it is recognised in official discourses that there is a particular ‘problem’ in relation to the aspirations and achievements of white working-class boys (DCSF 2008). Nationally this latter group is the most numerous group of boys.

Families—dysfunctional, desperate or disenfranchised? Parents are an important part of a child’s likely educational success and ability to negotiate their way through the educational system, whatever their particular needs and aptitudes. This is where once again inequality is an important part of the explanation for the way that some children with highly problematic behaviour (often labelled EBD) get less help, rather than more. Families are often ‘blamed’ for the behaviour of children, including offending behaviour. These families are typically characterised as ‘dysfunctional’. Another characteristic such families often share is that they are poor and, as a result, are both desperate and disenfranchised. Holt (2011) shows how the parents of young offenders in her study traced their child’s trajectory into offending behaviour with reference to school experiences, with many noting the move to secondary school as the point where things started to go wrong. Of the 17 cases in this study, 12 had been excluded from school and many waited some time before alternative educational provision was made. What these 17 families also had in common was poverty and a lack of social capital that might have made it more possible to get more out of the system for their children. Earlier research (Hayden and Dunne 2001) has illustrated the importance of what parents did or perceived they could do following their child’s exclusion from school.

System failure—schools, education and youth justice Schools can make a positive difference but it can be difficult to make a difference in a climate of continual change and with a performance management and inspection system focused on academic achievement and conforming behaviour. Burton et al. write of the tensions in education policies that have focused on performance targets at the same time as promoting inclusion, concluding that children with EBD continue to be marginalised and let down by the system in England. The official discourse about inclusion can be used to mask the reality for professionals working with young people with EBD, who face ‘continued dilemmas and inconsistencies in provision, practice and attitudes’, for a group of young people who have been ‘historically under-served’ by the education system (Burton et al. 2009: 154). 53

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Official monitoring data further illustrate the gradient of disadvantage that assails children with EBD. Not only are they more likely to be in receipt of free school meals (see Table 6.3), but they are more likely to be permanently excluded or absent from school, even compared with all children with SEN (see Table 6.4). The secure estate, like prisons, is populated by children and young people who in the main have not reached a high level of academic attainment at school. Time in the secure estate might be seen as a chance to address the educational needs of these children, but in most cases this does not happen due to a combination of short sentences (80 days was the average in 2009/10— YJB/MoJ 2011) and lack of co-ordination or opportunity on release (Hayden 2008). Most young people go to a Young Offenders’ Institute, where ‘purposeful activity’ is what passes for education. Secure children’s homes cater for the youngest offenders, as well as young people who are in secure accommodation for welfare reasons. These homes have the highest level of spending on educational provision within the secure estate (Stephenson et al. 2001). They are highly specialised facilities that provide for around 235 children detained by the courts (around 7 per cent of the secure estate) at any one time. Secure children’s homes can provide appropriate and individually tailored education but the possibilities for continuing this once the young person is released into the community are very limited. The vulnerability and complexity of needs of most young people caught up in the youth justice system is depicted by Soloman and Garside in the following way: The overall picture is of a youth justice system that was designed with the best of intentions of providing multi-agency provision but that in practice is struggling to meet the needs of a group of vulnerable children and young people who require carefully coordinated specialist support. YOTs [Youth Offending Teams] do not appear to be able to successfully meet the complex needs of children and young people. This raises questions about the significant investment in youth justice and whether resources should instead be directed to social support agencies outside the criminal justice arena. (Soloman and Garside 2008: 11)

School and societal—inequality and marginalisation A review of the evidence about EBD and offending illustrates the link between vulnerability, inequality and a process of marginalisation that enhances existing problems. Children and young people with EBD are not only more likely to be relatively poor (as indicated by free school meals), but more likely to be excluded from school; they are also more likely to be absent from school (than the general school population). Not surprisingly, they achieve few formal qualifications, a situation that in and of itself makes living a law-abiding life through gainful employment less likely. The similarity between the characteristics and circumstances of many children with EBD Table 6.4 Exclusion and absence from school % of all children in each category

All children

Permanent exclusion Absence

0.11 6.27

Source: (DfE 2010b)

54

All children with SEN (statement or schools action plus)

Children with EBD Statemented

Schools Action Plus

0.38 8.50

0.91 14.01

1.44 12.74

Youth offending and EBD

and that of the prison population point to the need to address the way that processes set in motion by the education system compound wider processes of marginalisation due to inequality.

Conclusions Official data on offending include reference to education and SEN but do not focus specifically on EBD. The evidence on the connections between EBD and offending behaviour come from a variety of sources. Reviewing the evidence from the risk factors perspective illustrates the connections to broader patterns of inequality and processes of marginalisation, in relation to poverty and the differential impact of these processes by ethnicity and gender. Children with EBD are more likely to come from family backgrounds that are not only poor but where there are other issues to do with parenting, family dynamics, substance misuse and mental health problems. The way that these various factors and dynamics coalesce around some of the most disadvantaged children is illustrated in relation to those in the care system, again particularly children in residential care, who tend to be the most troubled and troublesome. There is therefore a strong, but not inevitable, connection between EBD and offending behaviour. How adults respond to these children can make the difference, by compounding or helping to address the challenges they present.

References American Psychiatric Association (1994) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. Washington, DC. Boxford, S. (2006) Schools and the Problem of Crime. Cullompton: Willan. Burton, D.M., Bartlett, S.J. and Anderson de Cuevas, R. (2009) ‘Are the contradictions and tensions that have characterised educational provision for young people with behavioural, emotional and social difficulties a persistent feature of current policy?’ Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 14(2): 141–55. Cooper, P. (1998) ‘Developments in the understanding of childhood emotional and behaviour problems since 1981’. In R. Laslett, P. Cooper, P. Maras, A. Rimmer and B. Law (eds), Changing Perceptions. Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties since 1945. East Sutton: AWCEBD. DCSF (2008) Improving the Attainment of White Working Class Boys: A Study of a Small Sample of Successful Secondary Schools. London: DCSF. DfE (Department for Education) (2010a) Outcomes for Children Looked After: Twelve Months to 31 March 2010, England. SFR 38/2010. London: DfE. ——(2010b) Children with Special Educational Needs 2010: An Analysis. London: DCSF. Farrington, D. (1996) Understanding and Preventing Youth Crime. York: York Publishing Services/Joseph Rowntree Foundation. Farrington, D.P., Loeber, R. and Van Kammen, W.B. (1990) ‘Long-term criminal outcomes of hyperactivityimpulsivity-attention deficit and conduct problems’. In L. Robins and M. Rutter (eds), Straight and Devious Pathways from Childhood to Adulthood. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 62–81. Fossati, A., Barratt, E.S., Carretta, I., Leonardi, B., Grazioli, F. and Maffei, C. (2004) ‘Predicting borderline and antisocial personality disorder features in nonclinical subjects using measures of impulsivity and aggressiveness’. Psychiatry Research 125: 161–70. Hayden, C. (1997) Children Excluded from Primary School. Buckingham: Open University Press. ——(2007) Children in Trouble. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. ——(2008) ‘Education, schooling and young offenders of secondary school age’. International Journal of Pastoral Care in Education 26(1): 23–31. ——(2010) ‘Offending behaviour in care: is children’s residential care a “criminogenic” environment?’ Child & Family Social Work 13(4), November: 461–72. Hayden, C. and Dunne, S. (2001) Outside, Looking In. Families’ Experiences of Exclusion from School. London: The Children’s Society. Hayden, C. and Martin, D. (eds) (2011) Crime, Anti-Social Behaviour and Schools. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Hayden, C. and Martin, T. (1998) ‘Safer cities and exclusion from school’. Journal of Youth Studies 1 (3): 315–31.

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HMSO (1969) Children in Trouble. Cmnd 3601. London: HMSO. Holt, A. (2011) ‘From Troublesome to Criminal: school exclusion as the “tipping point” in parents’ narratives of youth offending’. In C. Hayden and D. Martin (eds), Crime, Anti-Social Behaviour and Schools. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. House of Commons (2011) The Government’s Approach to Crime Prevention: etc.—Home Affairs Committee. UK Parliament, 1 March. www.publications.parliament.uk/pa/cm201011/cmselect/cmhaff/701/70104.htm (21.03.2011). Loeber, R., Farrington, D.P., Stouthamer-Loeber, M. and Van Kammen, W.B. (1998) Antisocial Behavior and Mental Health Problems: Explanatory Factors in Childhood and Adolescence. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Millard, B. and Flatley, J. (ed.) (2010) Experimental Statistics on Victimisation of Children Aged 10 to 15: Findings from the British Crime Survey for the Year ending December 2009. England and Wales, 17 June, Home Office Statistical Bulletin 11/10. London: Home Office. Morgan, R. (2007) ‘Foreword’. In M. Stephenson, Young People and Offending. Education, Youth Justice and Social Inclusion. Cullumpton/Devon: Willan Publishing. Rowe, S. and Ashe, J. (2008) Young People and Crime: Findings from the 2006 Offending Crime and Justice Survey. 15 July 2009/08. www.homeoffice.gov.uk/rds/pdfs08/hosb0908.pdf (06.01.2010). Rutter, M., Giller, H. and Hagell, A. (1998) Antisocial Behaviour by Young People. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. SEU (Social Exclusion Unit) (2002) Reducing Re-Offending by Ex-Prisoners. The Cabinet Office. Smith, D.J. and McVie, S. (2003) ‘Theory and method in the Edinburgh study of youth transitions and crime’. British Journal of Criminology 43: 169–95. Soloman, E. and Garside, R. (2008) Ten Years of New Labour’s Youth Justice Reforms: An Independent Audit. London: Centre for Crime and Justice, King’s College, University of London. Stephenson, M. (2007) Young People and Offending. Education, Youth Justice and Social Inclusion. Cullumpton, Devon: Willan Publishing. Stephenson, M., Bates, F. and Hay, C. (2001) An Audit of Education Provision within the Juvenile Secure Estate. A Report to the Youth Justice Board. London: Youth Justice Board. YJB (Youth Justice Board) (2009a) Youth Survey 2008: Young People in Mainstream Education. London: YJB. ——(2009b) Youth Survey 2008: Young People in Pupil Referral Units. London: YJB. YJB/MoJ (Youth Justice Board/Ministry of Justice) (2011) Youth Justice Statistics 2009/10. England and Wales. London: YJB/MoJ.

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7 Policy and provision for children with social, emotional and behavioural difficulties in Scotland Intersections of gender and deprivation Sheila Riddell and Gillean McCluskey

Introduction This chapter focuses on the connections between gender, social deprivation and social, emotional and behavioural difficulties (SEBD) in Scotland, making comparisons with England and other European countries where appropriate. Having sketched the broad Scottish policy context, the chapter discusses the category of SEBD, as well as other labels, such as attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), mental health difficulties and pupil at risk of exclusion, which are applied to children who are regarded as both troubled and troubling. Subsequently, we analyse the social characteristics of pupils who are categorised as having SEBD, focusing on both gender and social deprivation, since there are very strong intersections between these variables. The chapter then examines provision for children with SEBD in Scottish schools with regard to their placement and the types of support they receive. The intended and unintended consequences of current and recent approaches to behaviour management, such as nurture groups and alternative curricula, are discussed. It is argued that even though behavioural difficulties are socially patterned rather than randomly occurring, behaviour support interventions rarely acknowledge the salience of gender and social deprivation. Whilst interventions often have benign intentions, they may act as covert means of marginalising and ‘responsibilising’ vulnerable young people. The chapter will consider these concerns as they arise in mainstream schools and special education/alternative provision for children and young people with SEBD.

Meeting the needs of pupils with SEBD in Scottish schools: the policy and legislative context Scotland shares many concerns with other developed countries with regard to supporting children and young people with emotional and behavioural difficulties within the context of inclusion. Scotland has had its own Parliament since 1999 but over a much longer period has 57

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developed distinctive approaches to support for children and young people with SEBD. Since publication of the Kilbrandon Report in 1964, children under the age of 16 years have been diverted from the juvenile courts systems used in other UK jurisdictions and into the Children’s Hearing System. The aim of this system is to ensure that children’s needs are understood and addressed in welfare terms, whether or not an offence has been committed. This commitment to support rather than punishment has encouraged the development of multi-agency working to support troubled and troublesome children and young people (Scottish Government 2008a, 2007). Within all schools (primary, secondary and special) regular meetings take place which bring together the different professionals working with children, and along with parents and the child, ‘focus on finding solutions for children’ (Scottish Government 2007: 31). The Getting it Right for Every Child (GIRFEC) programme, which has informed children’s services for at least a decade, continues to emphasise a child-centred approach to planning and service delivery. A problem with such approaches may be their lack of attention to relevant social factors in distributing risk and opportunity. For example, a recent policy document on mental health difficulties and wellbeing in Scottish schools (HMIe 2011) contains only one reference to gender in connection with the statistics on girls and eating disorders. A further important policy development in Scotland has been an expansion of categories relating to SEBD. Legislation1 passed in 2004 was intended to guarantee extra assistance for all children with additional support needs, regardless of the causes of their learning difficulties. The broad category of special educational needs was replaced by the over-arching category of additional support needs, and the Government instituted new categories in the annual audit of pupil support needs completed by schools and informing official statistics. In addition to the existing category of SEBD, the new categories included pupils with mental health difficulties and pupils ‘looked after’2 by the local authority. Furthermore, for the first time children who were bullied, had interrupted learning or were young carers were officially recognised as qualifying for additional support. However, as demonstrated in Table 7.1, whilst SEBD accounts for about onethird of all children identified as having additional support needs, the new categories of looked after children and children with mental health difficulties have been little used. A review of the legislation conducted by Her Majesty’s Inspectorate of Education (HMIe) in 2007 (HMIe 2007) suggested that local authorities were failing to recognise the additional support needs of some groups of vulnerable children, particularly those who were looked after by the local authority. As a result, the Education (Additional Support for Learning) (Scotland) Act 2009 placed a new duty on local authorities to assess all looked after children to identify whether they required additional support. Recently, too, the links between mental health and troublesome or challenging behaviour have been underlined (HMIe 2011), and teachers have been encouraged to be more aware of existing or incipient mental health difficulties. At the same time, parents have increasingly lobbied for the recognition of ADHD, although this is not a category recognised in official statistics. Data from the Information and Statistics Division of the National Health Service Scotland indicate that the prescribing of drugs relating to ADHD, in particular Ritalin, grew by 12.3 per cent between 2006/7 and 2007/8, with wide regional variation (Riddell et al. 2010). Autistic spectrum disorder is another rapidly expanding category covering some children with behavioural difficulties. The implications of the ‘new disorders’ overlapping with SEBD (mental health difficulties, autistic spectrum disorder and ADHD) are discussed further below. To summarise, in Scotland there has, for many years, been a concern with addressing the welfare needs of pupils with SEBD and, more recently, an expansion of the categories used in relation to this group. However, major problems persist in resolving the difficulties of children with SEBD in Scotland, and these are strongly associated with the social characteristics of pupils who attract this label. A recent review of Scottish Education (OECD 2007a) noted that even 58

Provision for children with SEBD in Scotland

Table 7.1 Reasons for pupils with additional support needs by gender, 2010 Rate per 1,000 pupils

Pupils for whom reason for support is reported* Learning disability Dyslexia Other specific learning difficulty (e.g. numeric) Other moderate learning difficulty Visual impairment Hearing impairment Deafblind Physical or motor impairment Language or speech disorder Autistic spectrum disorder Social, emotional and behavioural difficulty Physical health problem Mental health problem Interrupted learning English as an additional language Looked after More able pupil Other

Female

Male

Total

Female

Male

Total

23,322

45,492

68,814

70.6

132.6

102.2

4,004 2,722 2,131

7,530 5,841 4,093

11,534 8,563 6,224

12.1 8.2 6.5

22.0 17.0 11.9

17.1 12.7 9.2

3,816 833 688 27 1,666 2,169 920 3,551

6,647 1,172 867 25 2,851 5,031 5,586 11,187

10,463 2,005 1,555 52 4,517 7,200 6,506 14,738

11.6 2.5 2.1 0.1 5.0 6.6 2.8 10.8

19.4 3.4 2.5 0.1 8.3 14.7 16.3 32.6

15.5 3.0 2.3 0.1 6.7 10.7 9.7 21.9

1,647 212 475 2,764 1,067 376 2,105

2,298 442 652 3,289 1,327 400 3,743

3,945 654 1,127 6,053 2,394 776 5,848

5.0 0.6 1.4 8.4 3.2 1.1 6.4

6.7 1.3 1.9 9.6 3.9 1.2 10.9

5.9 1.0 1.7 9.0 3.6 1.2 8.7

Note: Occurrences: pupils with more than one reason for support will appear in each row. * The number of pupils for whom a reason for support is recorded was amended on 3 February 2011. Source: (Scottish Government 2011)

though Scotland has relatively high levels of educational attainment as measured by the Programme for International Student Assessment (PISA), and a highly equitable education system in relation to resource distribution, there continues to be a significant gap between pupil attainment in relation to socio-economic status. Boys from poorer backgrounds, the report noted, are likely to exhibit behavioural difficulties in secondary schools, and are over-represented in groups of low attainers and early school leavers. The report argued that an important underlying reason for this achievement gap is the adherence to a highly academic curriculum, which is taught in a way that makes it inaccessible to many children from socially and culturally deprived backgrounds, particularly boys. According to the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) report, this mismatch between pupil interests and curricular concerns leads to the emergence of behavioural difficulties and poor disciplinary climate. The remedy suggested is the development of alternative and more vocationally orientated programmes for children (particularly boys) from socially disadvantaged backgrounds to prevent behavioural difficulties arising in the first place. The greater use of alternative curricula, particularly for disaffected young people, is a key element of the new curriculum, Curriculum for Excellence. However, this reorientation of the Scottish curriculum has not been universally welcomed. Paterson (2009), for example, is strongly critical of such developments on the grounds that they undermine the fundamental principle of equal curricular access for all, which forms a major plank of the Scottish comprehensive 59

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education tradition (Devine 1999). In the following sections, we explore further the nature of the disproportionalities associated with the identification of SEBD in Scotland and the implications of this over-representation.

SEBD and the over-representation of boys from socially deprived backgrounds When the new legislation was passed, given the expanded definition of additional support needs, the Scottish Government anticipated an increase in the number of children entitled to extra support to overcome their difficulties, including those falling under the heading of SEBD. However, in practice there was only a small overall increase from about 4.5 per cent of the total school population in 2003 to about 6 per cent in 2009, accompanied by a significant decline in the proportion of pupils receiving a statutory support plan, which fell from 2 per cent in 2003 to less than 0.5 per cent in 2009. The greater ratio of boys to girls amongst pupils identified as having SEBD remained constant, at about two to one. Table 7.1 shows that in almost all additional support needs categories boys outnumber girls, apart from the very small number of pupils with dual sensory impairment where the proportions are equal. The category of SEBD accounts for the largest number of pupils (14,738 representing 21 per cent of the total). Within this category, boys outnumber girls by three to one, the largest disproportionality across all categories. In general, the disproportional identification of boys is greatest in high-incidence, non-normative categories, where professional judgement plays a large part in deciding which children should be categorised in this way. Social deprivation is also a major factor associated with SEBD identification. Figure 7.1 shows that some types of difficulty are much more strongly associated with area deprivation than others and, as we noted above, these difficulties are also strongly associated with gender. Children in the most deprived areas in Scotland, measured by the Scottish Index of Multiple Deprivation,3 are more than twice as likely to have additional support needs identified as those living in the least deprived areas, although, as noted by Croll (2002), this may be an underestimate because many children with difficulties are viewed as ‘bad’ rather than in need of additional support, and are channelled down different routes, often leading to exclusion. Low incidence normative difficulties, such as hearing impairment and motor and physical impairment, are only loosely associated with social deprivation and gender, compared with high-incidence, non-normative categories such as learning disability and, in particular, SEBD, where the gender disproportionality is most marked. These categories are strongly socially stigmatised (Riddell et al. 2001) and are applied to children by professionals often with resistance from parents and young people. The over-representation of boys with regard to SEBD is a global phenomenon (OECD 2007b). In many countries these labels are not only applied disproportionately to boys but also to pupils from minority ethnic groups, although pupils from minority ethnic groups are not over-represented in Scotland. Dyson and Kozleski (2008) and Lindsay and Muijs (2006) note the over-representation of Afro-Caribbean boys and children from Gypsy/Traveller backgrounds amongst those identified as having additional support needs in England. In the USA, black boys are over-represented amongst pupils with emotional disturbance (Harry and Klingner 2007), and in Australia, Aboriginal pupils are much more likely to be identified as having emotional and behavioural difficulties or learning disabilities and subsequently placed in special settings (Graham et al. 2010). These disproportionalities promote and reflect inequalities associated with economic and cultural domains. They also point to a deficit in representation, since these are not the chosen labels of the groups concerned, but are applied by more powerful professionals. 60

Provision for children with SEBD in Scotland

Figure 7.1 Percentage of Scottish school population within each Scottish Index of Multiple Deprivation (SIMD) decile by type of difficulty (percentages in each group in stacked bar) 1 = least deprived area; 10 = most deprived area. Source: (Scottish Government 2009)

In Scotland, children who have been identified as having additional support needs that are significant and enduring are entitled to a receive a statutory support plan (a Record of Needs, which is in the process of being phased out, or a Co-ordinated Support Plan), which summarises the additional help that the local authority will provide to support their learning. Figure 7.2 shows that although children living in areas of social disadvantage are much more likely to be identified as having additional support needs, they are relatively less likely to be awarded a statutory support plan than children living in more socially advantaged areas. As noted, SEBD is the most common type of difficulty identified in socially deprived areas and the category includes a very high proportion of boys. There is, therefore, a concern that boys are experiencing the social stigma associated with the label of SEBD, but are not supported by a statutory plan which would strengthen their right to additional support and appeal. Importantly, explanations of disproportionalities in the identification of additional support needs, and SEBD more specifically, vary greatly. Sociologists tend to regard social, cultural and economic inequalities as the main factors contributing to the over-representation of socially disadvantaged boys amongst pupils identified with SEBD. For example, Tomlinson (1985) notes that the expansion of the category of special educational needs, particularly SEBD, took place in the 1980s and coincided with the collapse of the youth labour market. This made it possible for politicians to claim that the reduction in the youth employment rate was attributable to lack of appropriate employment skills amongst young men, rather than disappearance of traditional manufacturing jobs. A slightly different explanation has been provided by writers such as Lupton (2005) and Hills et al. (2010), who suggest that young people from socially deprived areas may actually experience additional difficulties linked to poorer literacy and numeracy skills and 61

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Figure 7.2 Percentage of Scottish school population within each Scottish Index of Multiple Deprivation (SIMD) decile by type of educational plan (percentages in each group in stacked bar) 1 = least deprived area; 10 = most deprived area; CSP = Co-ordinated Support Plan; IEP = Individualised Educational Plan; RoN = Record of Needs. Children with a Record of Needs, Co-ordinated Support Plan and/or an Individualised Educational Plan are counted as having additional support needs. Source: (Scottish Government 2009)

delayed emotional development. These difficulties are seen as a product of social and cultural deprivation rather than innate pupil characteristics. Writing in the US context, O’Connor and Fernandez DeLuca (2006) attribute the disproportional identification of black boys amongst pupils with special educational needs to teacher prejudice rather than poverty. As noted by Macleod (2010), very different explanations are provided by neuropsychologists, who suggest that conditions such as ADHD may be attributed to individual child deficits such as an ability to suppress inappropriate action (Casey and Durston 2006) or a deficit in executive functioning more generally (Fugetta 2006). Even though sociological accounts have been most influential in shaping education policy, parents appear to be increasingly attracted to the explanations offered by neuropsychologists. Whereas sociological explanations blame the child’s environment for their problems, the latter present the problem as physiological in origin, to be resolved through psycho-pharmaceutical intervention, thereby releasing the parents and the school from blame (Slee 1995). Sociologists and neuropsychologists also have different explanations for the gender imbalance and the apparent puzzle as to why boys rather than girls from socially deprived backgrounds should be particularly adversely affected. Writers such as Lloyd (2005) and Osler (2003) have 62

Provision for children with SEBD in Scotland

drawn attention to the fact that whilst boys’ behaviour may be more challenging, this does not imply that girls, particularly those from socially deprived backgrounds, are doing well within the education system. Girls’ troubling and troubled behaviour may manifest in different ways, for example through eating disorders or depression. There is also some evidence of an increase in girls’ offending behaviour. For example, recently published figures from the Scottish Children’s Reporters Administration (SCRA 2007) show that between 2000/1 and 2005/6 there was a 40 per cent increase in the proportion of girls referred to Scotland’s children’s hearing system, although boys continued to outnumber girls by three to one. Neuropsychologists are more likely to maintain that boys have greater vulnerability to germs, genes and trauma, and therefore exhibit more deviant behaviour due to intrinsic, rather than extrinsic, factors. To summarise, in Scotland a child-centred approach has been adopted in relation to the education of children with SEBD, which is neutral in relation to gender and social deprivation and which fails to take account of the marked over-representation of boys from socially deprived backgrounds in this category. SEBD is a socially stigmatised category that is applied by professionals. Parents may reject this label, preferring categories such as ADHD, mental health difficulties or autistic spectrum disorder, which suggest an underlying medical aetiology for which no one can be blamed. In the following sections, we examine educational practice in Scotland in relation to pupils with SEBD, with a particular focus on formal and informal forms of exclusion.

Exclusion from school Children with SEBD may be regarded as in need of additional support, but they are equally likely to be regarded as a threat to school discipline and therefore be at risk of exclusion. About 3 per cent of Scottish pupils, over 80 per cent of whom are boys, are excluded at some point during the course of a school year, the vast majority for a short stretch of time. Table 7.2 shows that exclusions reached a peak in 2006/7 and reduced thereafter, partly as a result of conscious efforts to develop less punitive approaches to classroom behaviour management, such as restorative practices, but also as a result of the greater use of off-site and within-school behaviour support units. As with pupils identified as having SEBD, it is clear that exclusions are not randomly distributed amongst the pupil population, but are socially structured. Table 7.3 shows that pupils who have additional support needs, mainly SEBD and learning disabilities, are five times more likely to be excluded than others. Pupils who are looked after by the local authority are nine times more likely to be excluded than others, whilst pupils living in the 20 per cent most deprived areas are seven times more likely to be excluded than those living in the 20 per cent least deprived areas, as defined by the Scottish Index of Multiple Deprivation. Table 7.2 Cases of exclusion and rate per 1,000 pupils by type of exclusion, 2004/5 to 2009/10

Exclusions in total Of which Temporary exclusions Removed from register Exclusion rate per 1,000 pupils Of which Temporary exclusion rate Removed from register rate

2004/5

2005/6

2006/7

2007/8

2008/9

2009/10

41,974

42,990

44,794

39,717

33,917

30,211

41,703 271 58.1

42,726 264 60.4

44,546 248 63.9

39,553 164 57.5

33,830 87 49.9

30,144 67 44.7

57.8 0.4

60.0 0.4

63.5 0.4

57.3 0.2

49.7 0.1

44.6 0.1

Source: (Scottish Government 2011)

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Table 7.3 Cases of exclusion and rate per 1,000 pupils by looked after status, disability, additional support needs and Scottish Index of Multiple Deprivation (SIMD 2009) 2009/10

Assessed or declared disabled Not assessed or declared disabled Looked after by local authorities Not looked after by local authorities Pupils with additional support needs Pupils with no additional support needs Lowest 20% of SIMD (most deprived) Highest 20% of SIMD (least deprived)

Cases of exclusions

Rate per 1,000 pupils

798 29,114 3,875 26,336 7,651 22,261 13,076 1,614

70 44 355 40 174 35 91 12

Source: (Scottish Government 2011)

Special schools and off-site bases A small minority of pupils with SEBD, about 1 per cent of the school population, is educated in some sort of special provision, a proportion that has remained constant for at least 40 years. However, changes have occurred within the sector so that the number of special schools in Scotland has fallen from 194 in 2003 to 163 in 2010. At the same time there has been an increase in the number of off-site behaviour units. A recent report by the national school Inspectorate examined provision for children and young people with SEBD in on-site and off-site bases and in special schools (HMIe 2010). This followed concerns raised in the OECD report of 2007 discussed earlier about the lack of success in tackling the achievement gap of pupils living in socially deprived areas, who are particularly likely to be identified with SEBD, excluded from school, and placed in special schools or units. The report by the Inspectorate noted that pupils in these schools and units often had very poor educational outcomes due to a lack of clear educational goals, weak links with mainstream schools and lack of parental involvement. Similar criticisms have been made of Pupil Referral Units in England (Steer 2009).

Provision in mainstream schools The vast majority of children with SEBD are educated in mainstream schools in Scotland. However, despite many support initiatives, their educational attainment continues to be much lower than others, accounting for a large part of the attainment gap identified in the OECD review. A major difficulty here is that much of the support targeted at children with SEBD serves to remove them from the classroom, rather than embed them more firmly with their peers. For example, nurture groups are intended to compensate for presumed deficits in children’s early emotional development and are used particularly with primary school children. The aim is to create a homely environment where children can develop emotional attachment and the ability to contain their emotions and impulses. Now used in many local authorities, a recent national report (HMIe 2009) praised their work but also noted that they rarely include or involve parents despite their focus on remedying poor early attachment in the child’s home (Boxall 2002). The report also notes that communication and liaison with other agencies is sometimes inadequate and there is a failure to track children’s progress over time. Failure to reintegrate successfully into mainstream classes may also be an issue. The introduction of the new curriculum in Scotland (Learning and Teaching Scotland 2003), with its emphasis on alternatives to the traditional academic curriculum, may also pose problems 64

Provision for children with SEBD in Scotland

for children identified as having SEBD. One of the goals of the new curriculum is to improve the engagement and retention of children who may not see the relevance of some academic subjects and are therefore demotivated. However, these pupils may also be turned off education if they feel that they have been segregated into vocationally orientated classes that are of poor quality and have little exchange value in the labour market. Finally, as part of the Better Behaviour, Better Learning initiative (Scottish Executive 2001), for the past decade the Scottish Government has invested in behaviour support assistants and units. Virtually all Scottish secondary schools now have an on-site unit that caters for pupils who find it difficult to cope or whose behaviour is deemed to be too disruptive. The majority of pupils educated in these units are boys from socially deprived backgrounds. Whilst most of these units are supportive rather than punitive, once a pupil has left a mainstream classroom then reintegration may be very difficult, particularly at secondary level. As with the other types of alternative provision mentioned in this section, far from helping boys with SEBD to complete their education and gain educational qualifications, these types of provision may inadvertently weaken pupils’ precarious position in mainstream education.

Conclusion: dilemmas in the education of children with SEBD Norwich (2008) developed the concept of dilemmas of difference to refer to the difficulties encountered by policy-makers and practitioners in deciding how best to meet additional support needs. Labelling a child as different may be beneficial in terms of justifying the allocation of additional resources to purchase auxiliary aids and services to overcome barriers, such as a specially adapted chair for a child with a physical impairment or a learning support assistant for a child with autistic spectrum disorder. The need for reasonable adjustments to overcome a range of social barriers underpins disability equality legislation and is a key element of the European Convention of the Rights of Persons with Disabilities. On the other hand, labelling a child as different may be extremely dangerous if this leads to social segregation and the development of a spoiled identity, as seems the case with SEBD. Far from being applied randomly, SEBD is disproportionately identified amongst those at the social margins, in particular boys from socially disadvantaged backgrounds. Gabel et al. (2009) have suggested that the use of special educational needs as a way of legitimating the social exclusion of disavowed groups is a global phenomenon. Scotland, like other countries, clearly needs to examine more critically the social processes involved in disproportional identification of SEBD amongst some groups, and also the underlying social inequalities that contribute to the concentration of behavioural difficulties amongst socially disadvantaged groups. Finally, it is apparent that new curricular developments and approaches to behaviour management may facilitate the segregation of children identified as having SEBD either within or outwith mainstream schools. The social consequences of these programmes therefore require much greater critical scrutiny than they have received to date.

Notes 1 The Education (Additional Support for Learning) (Scotland) Act was passed in 2004 and was amended by the Educational (Additional Support for Learning) (Scotland) Act 2009. 2 ‘Looked after’ is the term used in the UK to refer to children who are in public care. 3 The Scottish Index of Multiple Deprivation combines 38 indicators across seven domains, namely: income, employment, health, education, skills and training, housing, geographic access, and crime. Full methodology is available in the Scottish Index of Multiple Deprivation 2009 General Report. 65

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References Boxall, M. (2002) Nurture Groups in School. London: Paul Chapman Publishing. Casey, B.J. and Durston, S. (2006) ‘From behaviour to cognition to the brain and back: What have we learned from functional imaging studies of attention deficit hyperactivity disorder?’ American Journal of Psychiatry 163: 957–60. Croll, P. (2002) ‘Social deprivation, school level achievement and special educational needs educational research’. Educational Research 44, 1: 43–53. Devine, T.M. (1999) The Scottish Nation, 1700–2000? London: Allen Lane. Dyson, A. and Kozleski, E.B. (2008) ‘Disproportionality in special education: a transatlantic phenomenon’. In L. Florian and M.J. McLaughlin (eds), Disability Classification in Education: Issue and Perspectives. Thousand Oaks, CA: Corwin Press. Fugetta, G.S. (2006) ‘Impairment of executive function of boys with attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder’. Child Neuropsychology 121: 1–21. Gabel, S.L., Curcic, S., Powell, J.J.W., Khader, K. and Albee, L. (2009) ‘Migration and ethnic group disproportionality in special education: an exploratory study’. Disability and Society 24(5): 625–39. Graham, L., Sweller, N. and Van Bergen, P. (2010) ‘Detaining the usual suspects: charting the use of segregated settings in New South Wales government schools’. Contemporary Issues in Early Childhood 11(3): 234–48. Harry, B. and Klingner, J. (2007) ‘Discarding the Deficit Model’. Educational Leadership 64(5): 16–21. Hills, J., Brewer, M., Jenkins, S., Lister, R., Lupton, R., Machin, S., Mills, C., Modood, T., Rees, T. and Riddell, S. (2010) An Anatomy of Economic Inequality in the UK: Report of the National Equality Panel. London: LSE. HMIe (2007) Report on the Implementation of the Education (Additional Support for Learning) (Scotland) Act 2004. Edinburgh: HMIe. ——(2009) Developing Successful Learners in Nurturing Schools: The Impact of Nurture Groups in Primary Schools. Edinburgh: HMIe. ——(2010) Out of Site, Out of Mind? An Overview of Provision for Children and Young People with Behavioural Needs in Local Authority Bases and Special Schools, with Examples of Good Practice. Edinburgh: HMIe. ——(2011) Count Us In: Mind over Matter (Promoting and Supporting Mental and Emotional Wellbeing). Edinburgh: HMIe. Learning and Teaching Scotland (2003) Curriculum for Excellence. Dundee: LTScotland. Lindsay, G. and Muijs, D. (2006) ‘Challenging underachievement in boys’. Educational Research 48: 313–32. Lloyd, G. (ed.) (2005) Problem Girls: Understanding and Supporting Troubled and Troublesome Girls and Young Women. London: RoutledgeFalmer. Lupton, R. (2005) ‘Social justice and school improvement: improving the quality of schooling in the poorest neighbourhoods’. British Educational Research Journal 31(5): 589–604. Macleod, G. (2010) ‘Identifying obstacles to a multi-disciplinary understanding of “disruptive” behaviour’. Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 15(2): 95–109. n.a. (2009) Education (Additional Support for Learning) (Scotland) Act. Norwich, B. (2008) Dilemmas of Difference, Inclusion and Disability: International Perspectives and Future Directions. London: Routledge. O’Connor, C. and Fernandez DeLuca, S. (2006) ‘Race, class and disproportionality: Re-evaluating the relationship between poverty and special education placement’. Educational Researcher 35(6): 6–11. OECD (2007a) Quality and Equity of Schooling in Scotland. Paris: Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development. ——(2007b) Students with Disabilities, Learning Difficulties and Disadvantages: Statistics and Indicators. Paris: Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development. Osler, A. (2003) Girls and Exclusion: Rethinking the Agenda. London: RoutledgeFalmer. Paterson, L. (2009) ‘Does Scottish education need traditions?’ Discourse 30(3): 269–81. Riddell, S., Baron, S. and Wilson, A. (2001) The Meaning of the Learning Society for Adults with Difficulties. Bristol: The Policy Press. Riddell, S., Kane, J., Lloyd, G., McCluskey, G., Stead, J. and Weedon, E. (2010) ‘School discipline and ADHD: Are restorative practices the answer?’ In L. Graham (ed.), (De)Constructing ADHD: Critical Guidance for Teachers and Teacher Educators. New York: Peter Lang, 187–204. Scottish Executive (2001) Better Behaviour, Better Learning (Report of the Discipline Task Group). Edinburgh: Scottish Executive Education Department.

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Scottish Government (2007) Included, Engaged and Involved, Part 1: Attendance in Scottish Schools. Edinburgh: Scottish Government. ——(2008a) A Guide to Getting it Right for Every Child. Edinburgh: Scottish Government. ——(2008b) Educational Outcomes for Looked After Children and Young People—Ministerial Working Group Report. Edinburgh: Scottish Government. ——(2009) Pupils in Scotland, 2009. Edinburgh: Scottish Government. ——(2010a) Building Curriculum for Excellence through Positive Relationships and Behaviour. Edinburgh: Scottish Government. ——(2010b) Supporting Children’s Learning: Code of Practice (revised edition). Edinburgh: Scottish Government. ——(2011) Pupils in Scotland. Edinburgh: Scottish Government. SCRA (Scottish Children’s Reporters Administration) (2007) Annual Report 2005–06. Edinburgh: SCRA. Slee, R. (1995) Changing Theories and Practices of Discipline. London: Falmer. Steer, Sir A. (2009) Learning Behaviour: Lessons Learned. London: DCSF. Tomlinson, S. (1985) ‘The expansion of special education’. Oxford Review of Education 11(2): 157–65.

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8 How children and young people with emotional and behavioural difficulties see themselves Gale Macleod

Introduction This chapter examines current knowledge about how young people experience being labelled as having emotional and behavioural difficulties (EBD). As EBD is a special educational label, discussion is about the experiences of young people in the school system. It is not primarily about the experience of being labelled as ‘naughty’, or a ‘troublemaker’, although these less formal labels may of course be precursors to being identified as having EBD. Nor is it principally about the experiences of young people who acquire a medical diagnosis such as attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD). While there will clearly be similarities, it has been argued that the acquisition of a medical label has particular consequences for a young person (see e.g. Harwood 2005). Over the last 20 years there has been an increase in research into the experiences and opinions of young people. This is generally attributed to the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child which enshrined in law the right for a child’s view to be heard, and to changes in the way in which social science researchers viewed children and childhood (Tangen 2009). However, while the proposition that young people ought to be consulted has perhaps become a statement of the obvious, the extent to which this regularly goes beyond a paper exercise is open to debate. Common critiques of the ‘pupil voice’ movement are that there are some voices that are listened to more than others, with younger children and those with disabilities often ignored (Tangen 2009). Powell and Smith (2009) note that although children now more frequently participate in research, the research agenda is still set by adults. Sellman (2009) explores the participation of young people with SEBD in research, and suggests that they may be even less likely to be invited to participate in studies that aim at genuine empowerment than their ‘less challenging’ peers. However, Sellman goes on to argue that particular attention should be paid to the views of these pupils—in part because they have interesting things to say, but also because the little research that there is suggests that they adopt a simplistic biological account of the aetiology of their difficulties which could be addressed through engaging with them as co-researchers. Most of the research evidence comes from small-scale qualitative case studies (e.g. Sellman 2009). Very few of these studies set out to ask young people specifically about their experience 68

How young people with EBD see themselves

of being identified as having EBD: most looked to explore young people’s experiences and attitudes towards their education more generally. Further, the participants in the research discussed in this chapter will not all have been formally identified as experiencing EBD as that will not always have been the sampling criteria for the research. Although the label EBD may not have been applied, these are young people who have been identified as having ‘challenging’ or disruptive behaviour beyond that which teachers or other professionals consider to be within the bounds of ‘normal’, with the caveat that what counts as ‘normal’ varies considerably. Before considering the evidence from research a brief introduction to symbolic interactionism is given and it is suggested that it is a useful theoretical ‘lens’ through which to make sense of the research findings.

Symbolic interactionism The origins of symbolic interactionism are most often traced back to the philosophy of George Herbert Mead, which was a mix of ‘philosophical pragmatism’ and ‘psychological behaviourism’ (Ritzer 2000). Key themes are that individuals and society are inseparable, the social development of the self, and the belief that individuals are influenced by their social interactions which depend upon shared meanings (Meltzer and Petras 1972). Central to Mead’s view is that the self consists of the perceived appraisals and evaluations of others. The social organisation constitutes the ‘generalised other’ and the more an individual is committed to a particular role in a social group, the more likely it is that that group will act as a ‘generalized other’. Gecas (1982) questions the way in which the appraisal of others can influence self-perception. He suggests that the credibility of the person doing the evaluating is significant. Simply put, ‘I am less likely to take seriously your opinion of me if I don’t hold you and your opinion as being important’. Rising out of the symbolic interactionist school, labelling theory came to dominate sociology of deviance literature from the 1950s to the 1970s. The basic assertion is that whatever behaviour comes to be labelled as deviant is arbitrary, but once labelled, an individual’s self-concept will be altered. Matseuda describes the process by which the labelling of behaviour as bad or delinquent, ‘in turn, influences the self-image of the child, who comes to view him or herself as bad or delinquent, which in turn increases the likelihood of future deviance’ (Matseuda 1992: 1588). A symbolic interactionist perspective can help us to make sense of the ways in which individuals who have been labelled (whether by explicit labelling, or by virtue of their exclusion from school, or placement in special provision) internalise the appraisals of individuals and groups around them.

Research about experience in mainstream schools The assumption that being educated in a special school is necessarily stigmatising, and that moving to mainstream provision would remove this stigma, was a dominant discourse in the discussions around the benefits of inclusive education: ‘One of the key positions in the policy deliberations has been that integration is likely to reduce the stigma associated with going to special school’ (Norwich 1997: 39). However, the extent to which there has been a flow of young people with EBD back into mainstream schools seems limited (Cole et al. 1998), as is the implication that it is the nature of the placement that determines whether a young person feels stigmatised. Jahnukainen (2001) interviewed 23 pupils (18 male, 5 female) who had been in special classes for pupils with EBD located in mainstream schools in Finland. What emerges from his study is the central importance of teachers in determining the school experiences of pupils. Not only did almost all students identify the special class teachers as the most positive thing, but also 69

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teachers were significant in relation to pupils’ general attitude to school. Jahnukainen notes that, ‘One might expect that these pupils, if any, would dislike school most. And so they did, but the target of this dislike was not the special education but the regular education in which they experienced most difficulties with teachers’ (Jahnukainen 2001: 151). He acknowledges that there are limitations to the methods of his study which indicate that his findings should be treated with caution. However, there are strong similarities with findings in this and other studies (Daniels et al. 2003), in particular in relation to the importance of the teacher. This heightened sense of ‘difference’ while in mainstream, and feeling more of a sense of belonging in an alternative setting resonates with findings from the author’s research conducted in Scotland which explored the experiences of pupils who were at that time educated in separate provision: The pupils did not feel they belonged in mainstream school, some talk about having been labelled there, always getting the blame for things and not being given a chance. On arriving at ‘Burnside’ they have found themselves with a group of other young people who they can relate to and in whom they can see themselves; they no longer ‘stick out’ as different. There is an overwhelming sense of relief underlying the talk of many of these young people; the impression gained is that ‘Burnside’ is a welcome respite from the trials and tribulations of mainstream school. They have found somewhere they feel they ‘belong’ and fit in. (Macleod 2005: 252) Riley and Docking (2004) report findings from two studies conducted between 1998 and 2000, both of which explored the views of disaffected pupils who remained in mainstream school. Once again the relationships with mainstream teachers emerged as being of key importance: ‘our study unearthed the frustration and mistrust between disaffected students and their teachers … ’ Riley and Docking (2004: 168). Pupils felt not wanted by the school and that they were ‘bottom of the heap’. The authors acknowledge the pressures facing teachers, but conclude that in times of stress some teachers resort to ‘humiliating students who present behaviour difficulties, exacerbating rather than reducing problems of disrespect and disaffection’ (Riley and Docking 2004: 177). In a report of findings from three different studies (interviews were conducted with a total of 66 pupils), Munn and Lloyd (2005) use three common elements of exclusion first identified by Atkinson (1998): namely relativity, agency and dynamics. Relativity stresses the importance of comparing the treatment of an individual to how others are treated in the same time and place. In overall population terms we know that all young people are not equally likely to experience disciplinary exclusion. Young people from specific social and ethnic groups, including those who are ‘looked after’, have special educational needs, and those who are entitled to free school meals are all more likely to be excluded from school (Gazeley 2010). Munn and Lloyd (2005) explored the way in which this large-scale relativity was experienced by individuals. They found that many pupils felt they had received unfair treatment, although this was less so with those who were by then in residential or secure facilities. Pupils who remained in mainstream but had experience of disciplinary exclusion often reported that other young people behaved in the same way as they did but did not receive the same treatment: If I’m in a class sitting at a table with about six people and they’re all talking and won’t be quiet and somebody throws a ruler or a pen then I immediately get chucked out the classroom. (Gillian, Project 2 in Munn and Lloyd 2005: 212) 70

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It would be easy to conclude that disruptive pupils are claiming unfair treatment as a justification for their behaviour and as a technique to shift blame. However, as in other studies, these excluded pupils did not deny that they had behaved badly. Pupils in all three of the studies accepted responsibility for the behaviour that had led to their exclusion and agreed that the exclusion had been justified. Daniels et al. (2003), in their study of young people permanently excluded from school, explored the correlation between perceived unfairness of the exclusion and various factors including ethnicity and subsequent engagement or employment. Overall, they found that around 28 per cent of their sample felt the exclusion had been fair. The findings on ‘fairness’ are complex as there are two dimensions to consider: the first is to ask whether the behaviour warranted exclusion; the second is to consider if someone else behaving in the same way would have been excluded. It is therefore perfectly coherent for a young person to maintain that their exclusion was both fair and unfair at the same time. The finding that a majority of excluded students felt that school disciplinary practices were applied inconsistently and that they were treated unfairly either because of their previous behaviour, or because of where they lived, resonates with findings across a number of studies (e.g. Daniels et al. 2003). There is therefore a body of evidence which constitutes an evidential base that overcomes some of the problems of generalisability associated with small-scale qualitative studies. The findings that can be held, with a degree of confidence, to apply to the majority of young people in mainstream school who are identified as being outside the ‘normal curve’ of behaviour are as follows:  Relationships with teachers are very important to young people  Pupils experience being treated unfairly and often attribute this to their ‘reputation’  Absent from pupil accounts are discussions of consequences of more formal ‘labelling’ From these it follows that pupils are acutely aware of how they are perceived by teachers and, as the symbolic interactionist perspective would suggest, this matters to them. It is interesting that very few pupils in mainstream talk about the consequences of a formal ‘label’, of having an Individual Education Plan or being identified in some other way as ‘different’. It would appear that concern about formally ‘naming’ the difficulty that a child is experiencing because of the risk of stigmatising them does not generate the problems for the pupil that might be imagined. However, the consequences of labelling a child in this way are not limited to pupil experience; how the pupil is viewed and treated by others, and the opportunities open to them, may well be affected. What does seem to matter to pupils is how they are treated. They infer from their unfair treatment that teachers do not value them.

Research about experience in alternative settings A tradition within the EBD ‘sector’ has emerged from the ‘therapeutic’ work of ‘pioneers’ such as Homer Lane and David Wills of listening to young people and seeing them as participants in a school community (Bridgeland 1971). It is therefore surprising that there are few studies that explore pupil experience in these schools. An exception is On The Margins (Lloyd-Smith and Dwyfor Davies 1995), which contains research conducted in various settings from mainstream to secure units, all of which contribute to a familiar story of the importance of relationships with teachers, ‘The development of good quality interpersonal relationships emerged as one of the main benefits of time spent at Cedarview’ (Howe 1995: 114). Included in the edited volume is Cooper (1995), who explored the experiences of boys in two residential schools for students with EBD. Twenty-four boys aged 14 and over were interviewed. 71

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The pupils talked about the positive relationships they had developed with members of staff. Cooper identifies a process of ‘re-signification’, by which pupils come to have a more positive view of themselves as a result of interacting with adults who hold positive views about them and as a consequence of experiencing success. Cooper’s findings resonate strongly with the writer’s research nearly 20 years later. Macleod (2005) was also conducted with pupils in two different schools for pupils with social, emotional and behavioural difficulties (SEBD). In this study what was significant was the extent to which the experiences of the pupils varied considerably between the schools. In Burnside school there was a very clear rejection of the notion that the pupils felt stigmatised or labelled as a consequence of their placement in the school. They talked about themselves and their classmates as being ‘normal’ but having ‘difficulties’. In addition, all but one of them said that their behaviour had improved since leaving mainstream. In contrast, a feature of the conversation of some pupils in Hawthornbank was their use of a medical discourse to explain their placement, echoing Sellman’s (2009) concerns noted above. Many of these pupils presented themselves as ‘not normal’ or ‘ill’, and not able to control their behaviour. Some pupils talked about their behaviour having got worse, and those who said they had calmed down attributed this change to medication. It appears that some of these pupils had internalised explanations for their difficulties that emphasised their helplessness and lack of responsibility. One explanation of the differences in the pupils’ experience in these two schools is that it is linked to the school ethos and the nature of the relationships between pupils and staff in particular. In Burnside staff felt able to effect change, and pupils were seen as being able to be helped to move forward, but in Hawthornbank pupils were viewed by staff as dangerous and beyond help. In both schools it would appear that the views and attitudes of the staff influenced the pupils’ views of the school and of themselves. Interestingly there was a small sub-group of pupils in Hawthornbank who did have more positive views about themselves. This group also differed from their peers in that they did not express a sense of belonging to Hawthornbank. Further, they were the only pupils in the school who talked about having maintained friendships with young people who continued to attend mainstream school. In symbolic interactionist terms it can be suggested that the significant factor is that these pupils had an alternative reference group interaction that helped to form their sense of themselves. For the Burnside pupils the staff team acts as a reference group promoting a positive self; for the majority of the Hawthornbank pupils the only available reference groups appear to be the staff or their fellow pupils at Hawthornbank— neither of which provide the same potential for developing a positive self-image.

Relationships and labelling The theme running through findings from research into both experience of mainstream schooling and of placement in alternative provision is that it is not the act of being labelled that in itself appears to be most significant, but the way in which it is applied, how it is used, by whom and the quality of the relationship between the labeller and the labelled. In the context of supportive mutually respectful relationships, whether or not a particular label has been applied becomes irrelevant. However it would be naïve to conclude that as long as pupils who are experiencing EBD have experience of relationships with teachers or other adults who value and respect them, then stigmatisation will not be an issue. Farrell and Polat (2003) interviewed 26 former pupils of one residential school in England for pupils with EBD. These pupils reported negative experiences on leaving school as a consequence of being labelled. These findings support those of earlier studies in the UK and USA, which have identified difficulties that former pupils of EBD special 72

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schools encounter in relation to employment, relationships and criminal activity. In my own research (Macleod 2005), although pupils rejected the suggestion that they were stigmatised they were unanimous in that they did not tell other people that they attended the special school. Taylor explored the experiences of pupils in a special unit attached to a mainstream class and concluded that ‘Being a member of the unit relegated pupils to a stigmatised, inferior and marginal status’ (Taylor 1995: 76). This conclusion was based on interviews Taylor conducted with mainstream pupils and did not come from interviews with those pupils who attended the unit. It would appear that pupils can and do resist negative perceptions where they have alternative sources of positive evaluations on which to draw. Once again, symbolic interactionism is a helpful lens here. Sykes and Matza (1957) provide an account of ways in which an individual may resist internalising the negative appraisal of others. They argue that individuals are able to avoid selfblame by the judicious use of justification or ‘neutralisation’ techniques. There are, they contend, five major types of techniques, the fourth of which, similar to Gecas’ (1982) notion of credibility, is that those who are critical of them can be rejected. Regardless of whether an individual young person has the ability to resist the internalisation of negative appraisal, it does remain the case that if future employers and ‘normal’ peers continue to ‘fail to accord him the respect and regard which the uncontaminated aspects of his social identity have led them to anticipate extending … ’ (Goffman 1986: 9), then the opportunities open to that individual will be limited. Practitioners can help simply by valuing and respecting young people, but there remains the challenge of educating the attitudes of the wider public (in particular pupils, mainstream teachers and employers) if pupils with EBD are to be able to continue to resist being stigmatised once they leave the relative safe haven of their alternative provision. This chapter has focused on how young people experience being identified as having EBD. It has been suggested that the perspective of symbolic interactionism can help understand the relationship between how we think others see us and how we see ourselves, which in turn has an effect on how we behave. In fact, long before symbolic interactionism had been articulated, this was already in some sense ‘known’ to practitioners. In 1928 Homer Lane gave an account of an encounter with a young man, Tim, who was being sent by a children’s court to Lane’s pioneer residential community, the Little Commonwealth. Rather than marching Tim off to the school immediately, Lane gave him a sovereign for his train fare and asked him to take his mother home and make his own way to the school the next day. Tim arrived the next day and ‘grinned cheerfully’. On giving an account of this to a friend, and at pains to point out it was not his ‘charisma’ that made Tim comply, but rather the assumption Lane made that Tim would, Lane says of Tim, ‘He reflected the world’s attitude toward himself’ (Lane 1928: 176).

References Atkinson, A.B. (1998) ‘Social exclusion, poverty and unemployment’. In A.B. Atkinson and J. Hills (eds), Exclusion, Employment and Opportunity, CASE Paper 4. London: Centre for Analysis of Social Exclusion, London School of Economics. Bridgeland, M. (1971) Pioneer Work with Maladjusted Children. London: Staples. Cole, T., Visser, J. and Upton, G. (1998) Effective Schooling for Pupils with EBD. London: David Fulton. Cooper, P. (1993) Effective schools for Disaffected Students. London and New York: Routledge. ——(1995) ‘When segregation works: Pupils’ experience of residential special provision’. In M. Lloyd-Smith and J. Dwyfor Davies (eds), On the Margins: The Educational Experience of ‘Problem Pupils’. Stoke-on-Trent: Trentham Books, 87–110. Daniels, H., Cole, T., Sellman, E., Sutton, J., Visser, J. and Bedward, J. (2003) Study of Young People Permanently Excluded from School. Research Report No. 405. London: DfES.

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Farrell, P. and Polat, F. (2003) ‘The long-term impact of residential provision for pupils with emotional and behavioural difficulties’. European Journal of Special Needs Education 18 (3): 277–92. Gazeley, L. (2010) ‘The role of school exclusion processes in the re-production of social and educational disadvantage’. British Journal of Educational Studies 58 (3): 293–309. Gecas, V. (1982) ‘The self-concept’. Annual Review of Sociology 8: 1–33. Goffman, E. (1986) Stigma: Notes on the Management of Spoiled Identity. New York: Simon & Schuster. Harwood, V. (2005) Diagnosing Disorderly Children. London and New York: Routledge. Howe, T. (1995) ‘Former pupils’ reflections on residential special provision’. In M. Lloyd-Smith and J. Dwyfor Davies (eds), On the Margins: The Educational Experience of ‘Problem Pupils’. Stoke-on-Trent: Trentham Books. Jahnukainen, M. (2001) ‘Experiencing special education: Former students of classes for the emotionally and behaviorally disordered talk about their schooling’. Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 6(3): 150–66. Lane, H. (1928) Talks to Parents and Teachers. London: George Allen and Unwin. Lloyd-Smith, M. and Dwyfor Davies, J. (eds) (1995) On the Margins: The Educational Experience of ‘Problem Pupils’. Stoke-on-Trent: Trentham Books. Macleod, M.A.G (2005) ‘“It’s no goin’ tae be a day in the park”: Separate provision for pupils with social, emotional and behavioural difficulties in Scotland’. Unpublished PhD thesis, University of Edinburgh. Matseuda, R.L. (1992) ‘Reflected appraisals, parental labeling, and delinquency—specifying a symbolic interactionist theory’. American Journal of Sociology 97(6): 1577–611. Meltzer, B.N. and Petras, J.W. (1972) ‘The Chicago and Iowa Schools of Symbolic Interactionism’. In Jerome G. Manis (ed.), Symbolic Interaction: A Reader in Social Psychology (2nd edn). Boston: Allyn and Bacon. Munn, P. and Lloyd, G. (2005) ‘Exclusion and excluded pupils’. British Educational Research Journal 31(2): 205–21. Norwich, B. (1997) ‘Exploring the perspectives of adolescents with moderate learning difficulties on their special schooling and themselves: Stigma and self-perceptions’. European Journal of Special Needs Education 12(1): 38–53. Powell, M.A. and Smith, A.B. (2009) ‘Children’s participation rights in research’. Childhood 16: 124–42. Riley, K. and Docking, J. (2004) ‘Voices of disaffected pupils: Implications for policy and practice’. British Journal of Educational Studies 52(2): 166–79. Ritzer, G. (2000) Modern Sociological Theory (5th edn). Boston: McGraw Hill. Sellman, E. (2009) ‘Lessons learned: Student voice at a school for pupils experiencing social, emotional and behavioural difficulties’. Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 14(1): 33–48. Sykes, G.K. and Matza, D. (1957) ‘Techniques of neutralization: A theory of delinquency’. American Sociological Review 22(6): 664–70. Tangen, R. (2009) ‘Conceptualising quality of school life from pupils’ perspectives: A four-dimensional model’. International Journal of Inclusive Education 13(8): 829–44. Taylor, A. (1995) ‘A “dunce’s place”: Pupils’ perceptions of the role of a special unit’. In M. Lloyd-Smith and J. Dwyfor Davies (eds), On the Margins: The Educational Experience of ‘Problem Pupils’. Stoke-on-Trent: Trentham Books.

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9 The challenge of inclusion A full continuum model of educational provision for children with EBD in Germany Marc Willmann

Introduction An enduring part of the history of education is the story of how adults, particularly pedagogues, approach the teaching and support of troubling and troubled students. Today, most national school and education systems use different formal and informal categorizations to describe these often disturbing children and young people. At least half of the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) countries use an official national special educational needs category of emotional and behavioural difficulties (EBD) (OECD 2007). While those believing in the inclusion of all children in mainstream school have proposed the abandonment of such categorization, not allocating a label can lead to the neglect of an individual child’s specific needs. For example, Dworet and Maich (2007: 36) criticize the ‘overall trend toward non-categorization for students with E/BD’ within the Canadian inclusive education system, for leading to under-identification. Students with EBD challenge schools, teachers and other carers in many ways, and their intense educational needs often combined with antisocial tendencies make them one of the most difficult special educational needs (SEN) groups to provide for within mainstream schools. This helps to explain why this group experiences very high rates of formal and informal exclusion from school (Watling 2004). As Jull (2008: 13) asserts, ‘EBD is perhaps the only category of SEN that exposes a child to increased risk of exclusion as a function of the very SEN identified as requiring special provision in the first instance’. Undoubtedly, there are still too many students with EBD excluded from regular education (Wagner et al. 2005; Willmann 2008), and schools sometimes are very ‘inventive’ in finding ways to get rid of the troubling and troubled students (Opp et al. 2006). However, in some instances placement in separate provision is justified by the intense educational and social needs of the student. An estimated minority group of perhaps no more than 0.5 per cent to 1.0 per cent (for England: cf. Cole et al. 2003; for Germany: cf. KMK 1972) of the compulsory school-age population is held to show severe EBDs that require intense educational support and psychosocial care to an extent that in some cases can only be met by carefully arranged educational provision in separate placements. 75

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Categorization, prevalence and placement Neither federal guidance, nor the legislative regulations of the 16 federal states, the German Länder, give a clear definition of EBD, or how it has to be assessed and diagnosed—a situation mirroring that in other countries. Hence, when looking at the official SEN statistics, it should be kept in mind that EBD is the broadest, and perhaps most amorphous of all SEN categories. According to the official statistics—all numbers calculated on data provided by the Standing Conference of the Ministers of Education and Cultural Affairs and the Federal Statistical Office (KMK 2010; Destatis 2010)—in school year 2009/10 there were 59,200 students categorized as having special needs in the field of EBD, in Germany called ‘emotional and social development’ (ESD). This is 12.2 per cent of all students with SEN, or 0.66 per cent of the compulsory school-age population. ESD/EBD is the third largest of all SEN categories in Germany and there has been a dramatic increase in its size. The number of students with ESD/EBD almost doubled (+81 per cent) within the last decade, which is the highest rate of increment of all SEN categories. Some 22,605 students with ESD/EBD were instructed in mainstream schools (this equals a proportion of 38.2 per cent of all students within this category) and 36,595 (61.8 per cent) were served in separate special schools. This means that most students with an official statement of ESD/EBD are educated in separate provision, which mirrors international trends of excluding disruptive students from regular schools. At the same time, this group shows the highest rate of integration (inclusion) compared to other SEN categories in Germany. This seems surprising since their problematic social and learning behaviours make them one of the groups most difficult to include (Bradshaw 1998). This has been interpreted as an indicator of a lack of separate provision for students with EBD (Willmann 2007). The assumption of a widespread undersupply of EBD services in Germany is also nurtured by the analysis of the prevalence rates provided by educationalists and by medical/clinical services. In relation to total student population in compulsory education, only 0.66 per cent of the students are eligible for SEN services due to an ESD/EBD statement. The special school placement rate is 0.41 per cent. Under the lowest, most conservative approximation of prevalence, 1 per cent of any age group is thought to have SENs related to their emotional/social development, which requires separate special provision. Meanwhile, the estimated clinical prevalence outnumbers this 10-fold. Worldwide research findings show prevalence rates of clinical psychiatric disorders between 10 and 20 per cent (Roberts et al. 1998; Barkmann and Schulte-Markwort 2005; Ravens-Sieberer et al. 2008). Even if some diagnoses of psychiatric problems do not automatically lead to a SEN ‘statement’, it is striking that within the school system, the number of students identified as having EBD is less than a tenth of the lowest estimated psychiatric prevalence of behavioural disorders. The discrepancy between prevalence and educational support rate can be explained in part by a high rate of ‘under-identification’ in schools (Arnold 2004; Willmann 2010). Besides, the discrepancy phenomena is also reported from other education systems (e.g. the USA, cf. Kauffman 2005; Merrell and Walker 2004). There is also the overlap of EBD with other special needs, especially with learning difficulties (Cullinan and Epstein 2001), which often leads to a double categorization in which EBD is seen as a secondary effect of the dominating area of a student’s learning difficulties. Additionally, in some cases it can be assumed that the SEN assessment procedures lead to a faulty diagnosis. Furthermore, the dramatic increase in the numbers of students identified as EBD can be seen in part as an expression of schools and teachers feeling more and more stressed by the complex task of education (Barth 1997; Schaarschmidt 2005; Rothland 2007). On this reading, the increase 76

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of EBD rates could tell us more about low personnel resources in schools and limited support for teachers than about the difficult-to-teach students and their behavioural problems. The special school sector in Germany is still dominated by special schools offering only half-day services and primarily hosting students with disturbing and externalizing behaviour problems, most of whom are boys. Girls tend to show more internalizing problem behaviours (cf. RavensSieberer et al. 2008). In terms of gender balance (as in England, see Cole et al. 1998), in segregated provision, boys are strikingly over-represented in special schools in general, with the highest ratio of over-representation within EBD schools (Bildungsbericht 2010), while within the context of clinic schools run by child and youth psychiatric hospitals, the gender ratio is nearly balanced. It is suggested that the dominating perception of challenging behaviours of children and youth produces the gender bias; we seem to deal with ‘bad boys and sick girls’ (Preuß 2011).

A whole-range approach providing a full continuum of educational provision and related services The cascade model of special education services is widely used to describe special educational provision (cf. Goodman 2007). This model has frequently been adopted, altered and criticized. For example, Cole and Knowles (2011: 44) adopted it as a five-tier model of provision for students with EBD. In his analysis of the educational systems for disruptive adolescents in the UK, Topping (1983) expanded the model to a ‘total cascade’ of all educational provisions available. He distinguishes:  traditional provision (residential schools, day special schools);  off-site physical and personnel resources (separate units, resource rooms, time-out rooms, crisis rooms/teachers);  in-school personnel resources (support teachers, paraprofessionals, volunteers);  external personnel resources (itinerant support teachers, consultants, teacher training, pupil training, parent training); and  in-school organizational factors (curriculum, routine sanctions, miscellaneous, resource continua). The cascade-type model has been criticized for evoking the idea that according to the ‘least restrictive environment’ (LRE) concept, the patterns of provision can be distinguished from least to more restrictive learning environments. However, as Gliona et al. stated: The LRE is not exclusively the general education classroom, nor is it necessarily inclusion in general education. The CAP [continuum of placements] does not represent settings that range from the least restrictive to the most restrictive. It does, in fact, represent settings that range from general to more specialized or dedicated, but restrictiveness of each is determined by the needs of the student, not by the existence of the placement option … Every option on the continuum of alternative placements is some child’s least restrictive environment. (Gliona et al. 2004: 138) The authors therefore prefer a model that enables direct access to all placement options to avoid long-winded processes involving passing through one placement to reach the next level. Some years ago, in a review of international research literature, Chazan (1993) found a worldwide trend that continues of adopting cascade-type models of educational support. This remains true for the provision of education for students with EBD in Germany, where services are spread over a wide continuum of varying learning environments, containing various physical 77

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and personnel resources. As shown in Table 9.1, educational provision can be distinguished by the placement of the student with SEN and by the location of the special educator or other specialist. The continuum of services covers a whole range of internal and external services for students in regular educational provision at the one end and special services in separate institutions at the other end. Students in regular schools can be assisted and helped by internal or external support agencies, offering various support services to the student and his/her environment (see Table 9.1: A–C). For a small group of students with persistent and intense problems, there are special schools offering individualized support in separated learning environments. The whole-range approach of educational provision and related support spreads over a continuum of services from prevention to immediate crisis intervention, from in-class support, to temporarily separated support groups, from remedial teaching to co-teaching, etc. The primary working focus of the special educator and the kind of services implemented depend on various factors, e.g. the organizational structure and ‘culture’ of the school, the position of the services, or the recipient of the support activities (Reiser et al. 2003). Yet the position and embedding of the support services seem crucial to the services offered. Three different patterns of provision can be outlined as examples for the different service modes (B–D) represented in Table 9.1. At one end of the continuum there are services provided by regular and special educators or other specialists who are located within regular schools (see Table 9.1: A–B). The ‘prevention teacher’ (B4) is a good example of a specialist’s internal position: here, the special educator is stationed within the regular school for low-threshold support services. As a part of the regular schools’ teaching staff, he/she is a colleague who is involved in daily school life. In contrast to external supporters, the role of the prevention teacher is shaped by the teacher’s position inside the school and his or her role within the organizational structures and procedures. Thus, special educational services offered from this internal position very often are orientated on delivering direct services to the child, e.g. teaching and remedial or therapeutic activities that focus on the students’ behavioural and learning problems (Reiser et al. 2003). At the other end of the continuum, there are various forms of special schools offering separated educational provision for students with EBD, some of which are located within the organizational frame of different agencies like Child and Youth Psychiatry, Child and Youth Welfare Services (CYWS), and the Juvenile Justice System. In a complete national study, these schools were empirically assessed and classified in a typology, encompassing five major types of special EBD schools (see Willmann 2007, for details), including mono- and cross-categorical special schools, residential or boarding schools, hospital schools within psychiatric clinics for children and youth, and prison schools for imprisoned criminal youth. Developments in the last two decades have brought about significant changes in the range of special schools services for students with EBD in Germany. Section 32 of the Child and Youth Services Act/Social Code, Book VIII (1992) allowed ‘day groups’ (Tagesgruppen) to promote day-care in the afternoon after school (as noted, most schools in Germany only offer half-day services). Since then, an increasing number of ‘schools with day groups’, have mostly provided for students with an EBD statement, to keep up social pedagogical guidance in the afternoon. Some of these combined school/day-care institutions are implemented within psychiatric clinics, where a multi-modal and interdisciplinary approach of educational activities, social pedagogical guidance and therapeutic treatment can be offered. Another trend is the development of former special schools into special education consultation centres (C1–C3). These centres must co-operate with teachers, parents and professionals from other helping institutions and supply counselling and consultative services to the regular schools. With this organizational transformation, the primary focus of the special education services is 78

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Table 9.1 The full continuum of services for students with EBD: educational provision from special needs support and related services for students in regular and separated school environments in Germany Inside regular school (educational provision and support in regular schools)

A Additional regular education support arrangements A1 Support by the classroom teacher

B Internal SEN provision and related services B1 Integration (inclusion) classes

A2 School’s counselling/ B2 Resource rooms consultant teacher A3 School helpers (e.g. para-professionals as learning assistants)

B3 Special classes

A4 School social work B4 Prevention teacher A5 School psychological B5 School wards service (Schulstationen) B6 Students’ clubs (Schülerclubs)

Outside regular school (special education and related services in separate institutions) C

D

External SEN services for External SEN services inclusive support with separate educational provision SEN ambulance D1 Special EBD schools mobile services and teaching units, located within different organizational and institutional contexts: C1 EBD special schools – EBD special schools as support and – Residential/boarding consultation centres schools C2 Consultation centres – Hospital schools – Day schools (former special schools – Support centres that detatched – Vocational training consultation services schools from special school unit – Prison schools C3 Multidisciplinary centres and related services

Primary working fields and areas of support offered by special educators within the organizational models B–D: B C – Teaching support (e.g. – Co-operation; counselling and co-teaching, remedial consultation with schools, teaching, teaching assistance) teachers, parents – Remedial support with groups – Diagnosis and assessment and/or individuals – Temporarily remedial teach– Co-operation ing or support activities (e.g. – Consultation social skills training, or play therapy groups) – Inter-agency networking: co-ordination and co-operation with external support agencies – Referral to specialized external support and helping agencies

D – Remedial teaching and support – Individualized learning assistance – Specialized behavioural support programmes – Therapeutical interventions – Co-operation with parents; counselling and support for families and parents – Inter-agency networking: co-ordination and co-operation with external support agencies

Note: Highlighted fields show working areas of special education teachers.

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relocated and the special educators’ role shifts from the focus on ‘working with the child to working for the child with the persons in his or her environment’ (Reiser 1999: translated by the author). There are advantages as well as disadvantages concerning the internal vs. external location of school consultation services, but in general, special educators find it easier to keep the necessary ‘problem distance’ and to remain in a ‘neutral position’, when coming from outside the institution requesting support (Reiser et al. 2003). Some consultation services are offered by EBD schools, which reduce the weekly teaching time of some special educators to free them for consultation activities in regular schools (C1). Experience suggests that it is better to detach the consultation department from the school unit and not to mingle these areas (C2). Other consultation centres are cross-agency units, which rest upon inter-professional collaboration (C3). Some of these have developed very complex structures, combining special education services with CYWS. Here, cases that are eligible for special education support are managed collaboratively by different professions working within one unit, which formerly had been divided into different institutions. Students with EBD remain in regular schools and are supported by different external specialists (special educators, social workers, social pedagogues and psychologists) coming from the multi-disciplinary centre (for details see the ‘Regional Service Centre for Consultation and Support’ in Hamburg and the ‘Centre for Social and Emotional Needs Consultation in Frankfurt’, described in Reiser et al. 2003). As research demonstrates, school consultation plays an important role in including students with SEN (Reiser et al. 2003), and within the German school system, school consultation is offered from both internal and external locations, with one complementing the other.

Meeting social and emotional needs within a complex network of services Some children and young people with EBD have complex educational and mental health needs that cannot be met by school staff alone. Provision for these students is embedded in a comprehensive system of helping agencies and professions offering pedagogical and psychosocial support for the young people and their families. Historically, educational institutions for children and youth with EBD arose within the four major fields of school education, social work, the juvenile justice system, and pedagogic-psychiatric facilities (Cole et al. 1998: 7). The helping institutions can be displayed on a stage model of institutions, according to the degree of specialization of the services offered (see Figure 9.1). The wide range of services does not automatically assure that the help promised is actually delivered to the intended clients. Insufficient personnel resources and ongoing difficulties in working together (e.g. in collaboration between professionals and institutions) can obstruct case work. Within a potpourri of institutions and professionals, it is not guaranteed that services are co-ordinated. Individual students can fall through the net of helping systems because of unclear regulations for the transition between institutions and insufficient inter-agency co-ordination and professional co-operation. Case studies of school careers of EBD students reveal the system failures (Freyberg and Wolff 2005; Herz 2008). While following the case management procedures of the particular helping agency, the single helper works on his/her own, isolated with the very same student, and perhaps simply does not know anything about the services implemented by other agencies. As a consequence, there are sometimes negative outcomes; too many young people are being ‘posted’ through the helping system, and some even return several times to the very same institution—a phenomena known as the ‘revolving door effect’. Within this complex system, special educators might take on new roles of professional duties and responsibilities by working as case managers, whose basic assignment is no longer direct 80

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Figure 9.1 Stage model of institutions for the prevention and rehabilitation of behavioural disorders Source: (Myschker 2009: 346; translated by the author)

work with the child (e.g. remedial teaching), but delivering indirect services to the child, as they guide the child with EBD through the helping systems and act as their advocate. The need for ‘changing roles of special education teachers’ (Reiser and Werning 2000) is even more pressing when it comes to implementing the UN-Convention on Disability Rights.

The continuing contribution of special provision for students with EBD Experts within the field of EBD in many countries recognize the enduring need for special provision for some students. The ‘one school for all’ doctrine is not supported by empirical evidence (e.g. MacMillan et al. 1996; Kavale and Forness 2000), especially for students with EBD. History and international experience suggest that in most highly developed national education systems, even in the world’s most innovative and ‘inclusive’ systems, like Australia, Canada, Finland, Norway, Sweden, the USA, New Zealand, England and Wales (Mazurek and Winzer 2002), various patterns of separate education provision continue. This state of affairs seems to correspond with the continuing and urgent need for special intensive pedagogical care for students with the most severe difficulties.

References Arnold, K.-H. (2004) ‘Von den Schwierigkeiten der Diagnostik “verhaltensgestörter” Schülerinnen und Schüler’. In U. Preuss-Lausitz (ed.), Schwierige Kinder—schwierige Schule. Weinheim: Beltz, 24–36. Barkmann, C. and Schulte-Markwort, M. (2005) ‘Emotional and behavioural problems of children and adolescents in Germany: An epidemiological screening’. Social Psychiatry and Psychiatric Epidemiology 40 (5): 357–66.

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Barth, A.-R. (1997) Burnout bei Lehrern (2nd edn). Göttingen: Hogrefe. Bildungsbericht (2010) (Autorengruppe Bildungsberichterstattung) Bildung in Deutschland 2010. Bielefeld: Bertelsmann. Bradshaw, K. (1998) ‘The integration of children with behaviour disorders: A longitudinal study’. Australian Journal of Special Education 21 (2): 115–23. Chazan, M. (1993) ‘Integration of students with emotional and behavioural difficulties’. European Journal of Special Needs Education 8(3): 269–88. Cole, T., Daniels, H. and Visser, J. (2003) ‘Patterns of provision for pupils with behavioural difficulties in England: A study of government statistics and behaviour support plan data’. Oxford Review of Education 29(2): 187–205. Cole, T. and Knowles, B. (2011) How to Help Children and Young People with Complex Behavioural Difficulties: A Guide for Practitioners Working in Educational Settings. London: Kingsley. Cole, T., Visser, J. and Upton, G. (1998) Effective Schooling for Pupils with Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. London: Fulton. Cullinan, D. and Epstein, M.H. (2001) ‘Comorbidity among students with emotional disturbance’. Behavioral Disorders 26(3): 200–13. Destatis (2010) Fachserie 11 Reihe 1, Bildung und Kultur, Allgemeinbildende Schulen. Schuljahr 2009/2010. Wiesbaden: Statistisches Bundesamt. Dworet, D. and Maich, K. (2007) ‘Canadian school programs for students with emotional/behavioral disorders: An updated look’. Behavioral Disorders 33(1): 33–42. Freyberg, T.v. and Wolff, A. (2005) Störer und Gestörte. Bd. 1: Konfliktgeschichten nicht beschulbarer Jugendlicher. Frankfurt a. M.: Brandes & Apsel. Gliona, M.F., Gonzales, A.K. and Jacobson, E.S. (2004) ‘Dedicated, not segregated: Suggested changes in thinking about instructional environments and in the language of special education’. In J.M. Kauffman and D.P. Hallahan (eds), Illusion of Full Inclusion: A Comprehensive Critique of a Current Special Education Bandwagon. Austin, TX: Pro ed, 135–47. Goodman, L. (2007) ‘Cascade model of special education services’. In C.R. Reynolds and E. Fletcher-Janzen (eds), Encyclopedia of Special Education, vol. 1: A-D. (3rd edn). Hoboken, NJ: Wiley & Sons, 362–63. Herz, B. (2008) ‘Kooperation zwischen Schule, Kinder-und Jugendhilfe und Kinder-und Jugendpsychiatrie’. In H. Reiser, A. Dlugosch and M. Willmann (eds), Professionelle Kooperation bei Gefühls-und Verhaltensstörungen. Hamburg: Kovac˘ , 171–89. Jull, S.K. (2008) ‘Emotional and behavioural difficulties (EBD): The special educational need justifying exclusion’. Journal of Research in Special Educational Needs 8(1): 13–18. Kauffman, J.M. (2005) Characteristics of Emotional and Behavioral Disorders of Children and Youth (8th edn). Upper Saddle River, NJ: Pearson. Kavale, K.A. and Forness, S.R. (2000) ‘History, rhetoric, and reality: Analysis of the inclusion debate’. Remedial and Special Education 21(5): 279–96. KMK (Kultusministerkonferenz) (2010) Sonderpädagogische Förderung in Schulen. Datensammlung vom 22.12.2010. Berlin: KMK, IVC/Statistik. ——(ed.) (1972) Empfehlungen zur Ordnung des Sonderschulwesens. Beschluss der KMK vom 16.03.1972. Bonn: KMK. MacMillan, D.L., Gresham, F.M. and Forness, S.R. (1996) ‘Full inclusion: An empirical perspective’. Behavioral Disorders 21(2): 145–59. Mazurek, K. and Winzer, M.A. (2002) Comparative Studies in Special Education. Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press. Merrell, K.W. and Walker, H.M. (2004) ‘Deconstructing a definition: Social maladjustment versus emotional disturbance and moving the EBD field forward’. Psychology in the Schools 41(8): 899–910. Myschker, N. (2009) Verhaltensstörungen bei Kindern und Jugendlichen (6th edn). Stuttgart: Kohlhammer. OECD (2007) Students with Disabilities, Learning Difficulties and Disadvantages. Policies, Statistics and Indicators. Paris: Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development. Opp, G., Puhr, K. and Sutherland, K. (2006) ‘Verweigert sich die Schule den Bildungsansprüchen verhaltensschwieriger Schülerinnen und Schülern?’ Zeitschrift für Heilpädagogik 57(2): 59–67. Preuß, U. (ed.) (2011) Bad Boys—Sick Girls: Geschlecht und dissoziales Verhalten. Berlin: MWV. Ravens-Sieberer, U., Wille, N., Erhart, M., Bettge, S., Wittchen, H.-U., Rothenberger, A., HerpertzDahlmann, B., Resch, F., Hölling, H., Bullinger, M., Barkmann, C., Schulte-Markwort, M., Döpfner, M. and the BELLA study group (2008) ‘Prevalence of mental health problems among children and adolescents in Germany: results of the BELLA study within the National Health Interview and Examination Survey’. European Child and Adolescent Psychiatry 17(1): 22–33. 82

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Reiser, H. (1999) ‘Förderschwerpunkt Verhalten’. Zeitschrift für Heilpädagogik 50(4): 144–48. Reiser, H. and Werning, R. (2000) ‘Changing roles of special education teachers in Germany’. In M. Ainscow and P. Mittler (eds), ISEC 2000: Including the Excluded. Proceedings of 5th International Special Education Congress. Manchester: University of Manchester. Reiser, H., Willmann, M., Urban, M. and Sanders, N. (2003) ‘Different models of social and emotional needs consultation and support in German schools’. European Journal of Special Needs Education 18(1): 37–51. Roberts, R.E., Attkisson, C.C. and Rosenblatt, A. (1998) ‘Prevalence of psychopathology among children and adolescents’. American Journal of Psychiatry 155(6): 715–25. Rothland, M. (ed.) (2007) Belastung und Beanspruchung im Lehrerberuf: Modelle, Befunde, Interventionen. Wiesbaden: VS. Schaarschmidt, U. (ed.) (2005) Halbtagsjobber? Psychische Gesundheit im Lehrerberuf. Weinheim: Beltz. Topping, K.J. (1983) Educational systems for disruptive adolescents. London: Croom Helm. Wagner, M., Kutash, K., Duchnowski, A.J., Epstein, M.H. and Carl Sumi, W. (2005) ‘The children and youth we serve: A national picture of the characteristics of students with emotional disturbances receiving special education’. Journal of Emotional and Behavioral Disorders 13(2): 79–96. Watling, R. (2004) ‘Helping them out. The role of teachers and healthcare professionals in the exclusion of pupils with special educational needs’. Emotional & Behavioural Difficulties 9(1): 8–27. Willmann, M. (2007) ‘“The forgotten schools”—Current status of special schools for pupils with social, emotional and behavioural difficulties in Germany: A complete national survey’. Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 12(4): 299–318. ——(2008) ‘Grenzen der schulischen Integration von Schülern mit Gefühls-und Verhaltensstörungen in den USA’. Zeitschrift für Heilpädagogik 59(5): 162–73. ——(2010) ‘Emotional-soziale Schwierigkeiten und Verhaltensstörungen’. In V. Moser (ed.), Enzyklopädie Erziehungswissenschaften Online (EEO). Weinheim: Juventa, 1–41.

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Section II

Theories explaining child development and modes of intervention

Introduction to Section II Ted Cole, Harry Daniels and John Visser

In Chapter 1, the editors noted that the biopsychosocial perspective is a useful if incomplete umbrella under which other accounts, of both child development and major theories guiding intervention, can sit. Paul Cooper, Katherine Bilton and Michalis Kakos (Chapter 10) see it as a holistic foundation for multi-systemic interventions in schools and other settings—an approach that is ‘capable of capturing the complexities of SEBD’. Sue Gerhardt (Chapter 11) explores a central feature of the biopsychosocial perspective: neurological development. She describes recent evidence from neuroscience on the growth of the baby’s and young child’s brain, the emergence of emotional regulation, the role likely to be played by crucial neurotransmitters such as serotonin and cortisol. This is an important, relatively new area of science, and caution is needed on how studies based on neuro-imaging are interpreted (Rose 2005). However, it is likely that recent neuroscience does add weight to older theory on the importance of attachment theory (Bowlby 1969). Gerhardt reports a comforting fact for practitioners working with older children with emotional and behavioural difficulties (EBD): synaptic connections continue to be made throughout life and that Bruer’s (1999) doubts about infant determinism seem to be well founded. Early damage can to an extent be repaired. From the novel discoveries of neuroscience, the Companion turns to much older theory, emanating from the pioneering ideas of Sigmund Freud and later psychoanalysts. Paul Greenhalgh (Chapter 12) stresses the continuing usefulness of defence mechanisms and the notion of ‘emotional holding’ in helping practitioners understand and respond appropriately to children with EBD—and indeed to professionals’ adult colleagues. It is many decades since Pavlov and Skinner, but aspects of Applied Behaviour Analysis continue to be influential in many settings. Indeed, behaviourism influences some of the content of Section III. It is therefore important that the basic tenets, such as positive reinforcement, are outlined. Louise Porter (Chapter 13) does this succinctly before offering a critique of the behaviourist approach on ethical and practical grounds—particularly for children with severe EBD. In the middle of her chapter she alludes in her Model of Human Needs (Figure 13.1) to humanist theory associated, for example, with Maslow (1943). Approaches associated with cognitive behaviour therapy (CBT) are described at the end of this section. In Chapter 14, Paul Stallard sketches the theory before advocating its application by mental health professionals to children suffering from anxiety and depression. Given the often 87

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skewed thinking and frequent ‘negative automatic thoughts’ (NATs) of many children with EBD, teachers and school support staff are also likely to find cognitive behavioural approaches useful. Had space allowed, a chapter in a later section of this Companion would have been devoted to the practical applications of CBT in schools.

References Bowlby, J. (1969) Attachment and Loss. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books. Bruer, J. (1999) The Myth of the First Three Years. New York: Free Press. Maslow, A.H. (1943) ‘A theory of human motivation’. Psychological Review 50: 370–96. Rose, S. (2005) The 21st-Century Brain: Explaining, Mending and Manipulating the Mind. London: Jonathan Cape.

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10 The importance of a biopsychosocial approach to interventions for students with social, emotional and behavioural difficulties Paul Cooper, Katherine Bilton and Michalis Kakos

Introduction The term ‘biopsychosocial’ is often considered to have originated in the later 1970s in work of Engel (1977, 1980), who argued for a ‘new paradigm’ in medicine that went beyond a purely biomedical approach to take account of the role of psychological and social factors in physical health. The approach has been developed to apply to a wide range of issues. For example, it has been used to develop understanding of interactions between psychological stress and physiological factors in the causes and management of physical illness, such as cancer, AIDS, and general pain management (Gatchel et al. 2007). The biopsychosocial approach has also been applied to psychological therapies (Stern 2002) and social work approaches (Corcoran and Walsh 2009; Wong 2006) in relation to mental health. It has also played a significant role in furthering understandings of the ageing process (Whitbourne 2005). In the broad area of social, emotional and behavioural difficulties (SEBD) among children and young people, the biopsychosocial approach can be seen at work as a underpinning to multi-systemic therapy (MST) (Henggeler et al. 1996; Henggeler et al. 1997), which has been found to be a highly effective multi-agency and multi-modal intervention for problems such as conduct disorder in older adolescents (Kazdin 2002).

Defining the biopsychosocial approach A ‘bio-psycho-social’ perspective (Engel 1977; Norwich 1990; Cooper 1997; Bronfenbrenner 2005; Hernandez and Blazer 2006) posits that nature (genetic inheritance) and nurture (environmental influences) are best understood as being in constant fluid and dynamic interaction (see Plomin 1990; Frith 1992). This approach derives directly from systems theory (e.g. Bronfenbrenner 1979), which, in turn, evolved from general systems theory in the physical sciences (von Bertalanffy 1968). The distinctive feature of the biopsychosocial approach is to focus on the ways in which 89

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the psychosocial systems and internal and external biological systems interact with and influence one another. Just as the systemic approach has the effect of synthesizing other, often individualized approaches to SEBD, whilst drawing attention to social environment influences, so the biopsychosocial approach takes this synthesis a stage further, by integrating fully the internal and external biological and intra-psychic dimensions with the interpersonal and social dimensions. Thus the approach can be seen as being essentially ecological in nature, making it truly holistic and, therefore, capable of capturing the complexities of SEBD and its concomitant interventions. Figure 10.1 offers a diagrammatic representation of the pattern of biopsychosocial interaction. A central feature of the model is recognition of the fact that biological systems, such as neurology, are strongly influenced by genetic inheritance. However, from the earliest stages of life, the development of biological systems are affected by environmental factors, such as nutrition, and experiential factors, including parenting styles, peer influences and the kinds of stimuli to which the developing individual is exposed. For example, most relevant to the sphere of SEBD is the fact that it has been shown that the neurological development of children can be adversely affected by prolonged exposure to abuse, neglect or lack of stimulation, leading to cognitive and social impairments. Conversely, adjustments to the environment may, in certain circumstances, help to reverse these effects. Furthermore, the ‘plasticity’ of the brain sometimes enables the brains of individuals who have experienced serious neurological insult, perhaps through injury or stroke, with concomitant loss of cognitive functioning (for example, loss of language functions) to compensate for the loss of functioning in one area of the brain by transferring the functions to other brain areas leading to the restoration of cognitive functioning (Geake 2009). In addition, a growing list of so-called ‘smart drugs’, many of which are psycho-stimulants (e.g. methylphenidate: ‘Ritalin’) and ampekines, are prescribed by physicians to augment, temporarily, neurological dysfunctions that are associated with specific cognitive deficits (Sahakian and Morein-Zamir 2007). Other, perhaps more powerful forms of compensation and augmentation are of a social and/or educational nature. These include the provision of compensatory skills for individuals, in the form of behavioural training, through the application of rewards and sanctions and the manipulation of behavioural antecedents; cognitive strategies (e.g. anger management training, mnemonic

Figure 10.1 Biology and environment bio-psycho-social interactions Source: (From Cooper and Jacobs 2011) 90

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strategies) and various therapeutic interventions (e.g. counselling). Within the educational arena psycho-educational interventions, including specific pedagogical strategies (Purdie et al. 2002), emotional literacy strategies (Mosley 1993), and specific intervention packages such as nurture groups (Cooper and Whitebread 2007), are claimed to make an important contribution to enabling the educational engagement of students with a wide range of social and psychological difficulties, some of which have a biological basis. Other educational interventions that have an augmenting/ compensatory effect are of an institutional nature, and include ‘school effectiveness’ (e.g. Rutter et al. 1979) and ‘school improvement’ (e.g. Fullan 1992) interventions. More socially focused interventions include systemic and multi-systemic interventions, as well as restorative justice and peer mediation strategies. It follows from a biopsychosocial approach that the search for effective interventions should range widely across disciplines as diverse as education, psychology, sociology, medicine and psychiatry. For this reason, multi-disciplinary and trans-disciplinary approaches are a focus of major interest in the SEBD area.

Applying a biopsychosocial approach to SEBD The adoption of a biopsychosocial approach to an understanding of SEBD highlights the need to forced to avoid the crude linearity that is sometimes a feature of the field. For example, non-lineal systemic thinking leads us to question the use of the term SEBD as a label to be applied to individuals who are perceived to be difficult to manage or engage with. They may be seen as disruptive or threatening, emotionally vulnerable or socially inept. The key systemic point here is that we must try to understand the perceived problem within its ecological context, an important part of which is the ascription process. This means that the apparent ‘problem’ may not be understood or experienced in the same way by the different actors in the situation. For example, ‘problematic’ behaviour is sometimes a legitimate response to intolerable circumstances (Cooper et al. 1994). On the other hand, a person may be socialised into ways of behaving that the wider culture construes as deviant, such as using a coercive social style in order meet personal needs (Patterson et al. 1992). In these circumstances the individual is, effectively, trained in deviant ways of behaving, however unwitting their trainers may be in reproducing the child-rearing techniques to which they were exposed as children. Furthermore, young people may apply a non-deviant, socialised cognitive and or behavioural approach to what might be termed a deviant situation (for example, to use physical force in resistance to some form of physical abuse), which may be misconstrued as a deviant response, because the trigger for their response is not visible to the observer. In other circumstances individuals who have been exposed to deviant environments might respond in non-deviant environments in deviant ways, because they misread the situation on the basis of prior experience. For example, a child who has a history of having been physically abused may recoil from, or respond aggressively to innocent physical contact initiated by a peer or adult. From a biopsychosocial perspective it is particularly important to understand that what might be at first construed as a problem emanating from within an individual, may turn out to be the symptom of a problem in some area of the individual’s environment. For example, a student may become morose, oppositional and disruptive in class in response to an emotional trauma in the family situation, or as a consequence of bullying in the school setting. In any event, the assessment of the situation should direct the professionals involved towards the most promising focus for intervention. So far the focus has been on ways in which social environments can influence emotions, behaviour and social functioning, as well as the ways in which these are construed. In this sense, the approach is consistent with the social constructivist position which emphasises, for example, the importance of adult perceptions in the construction of children’s deviant identities (e.g. Hargreaves 91

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et al. 1975), and in the positive reshaping of these identities (Cooper 1993). We would argue, however, that there are limitations to a solely social perspective such as this, valuable though it is. In this way we concur with the medical sociologists Schostak and Freese, when they point out that there is a need to move beyond the sometimes: perceived threat that biological accounts of the production of human difference pose a threat to sociology’s defining focus on social and environmental causes of human health and social outcomes. (Schostak and Freese 2010: 418) Far from providing a threat, we argue that the combining of psychosocial and biological insights provides a more sophisticated paradigm for understanding (in our case) SEBD than either a psychosocial perspective on its own, or a biomedical perspective alone. We argue that once these perspectives are combined they create a tool that is far more powerful than the sum of its parts because of the ways in which these perspectives are capable of interacting with one another. The central insight from the biopsychosocial approach for SEBD is that where biological and/or intra-psychic factors are at work in relation to a manifestation of SEBD they almost always have implications that must be addressed on the social-environmental level. The key point, however, is that an understanding of biological and/or intra-psychic factors can sometimes help us to target social-environmental interventions with greater accuracy than if we neglect the possibility that such factors might be at work. For example, repeated patterns of behaviour that are deemed problematic across a wide range of different settings, by different people and over an extended time frame, may suggest something more deep seated in the form of a persistent social and/or cognitive problem, which may, in turn, be rooted in the individual’s social experience, or even in a combination of their social experience and a biological predisposition. In any event, where problems are deep seated and pervasive there is likely to be a need for the individual to be helped to learn new ways of thinking and behaving. This will often involve making adjustments to the environment as well as supporting the individual directly and individually. By way of illustration it is useful to consider the value of being able to distinguish between cognitive distortions and cognitive deficits (Braswell 1995). Cognitive distortions are defined as ‘faulty problem-solving processes, skewed perceptual processes, information processing errors, and/or irrational beliefs or expectations’. Cognitive deficits, on the other hand, reflect ‘cognitive absences or under-functioning in key cognitive processes’. In terms of surface behaviour cognitive deficits and distortions may be indistinguishable. For example, they may manifest themselves in a failure to pay or sustain attention in classroom situations. Clearly, in seeking a systemic solution to the problem the first response should be to consider what it is that the young person is being expected to attend to, and to make judgements about the appropriateness of this stimulus and to explore ways of making the stimulus more accessible. However, in some cases this does not result in a solution; rather there seems to be a persistent pattern of disengagement/ distractibility that seems impervious to the adjustment that the teacher routinely makes and that usually works. In these circumstances it may become appropriate to investigate more closely the characteristics and dispositions of the individual. If we find through consultation with the young person a primarily attitudinal objection to the content that s/he is expected to attend to that can be traced to an apparently dysfunctional way of thinking about participation in learning (e.g. ‘I don’t want people to think that I am a swot’), then it might be wise to focus our attention on trying to change this perception through a range of interventions, which might include exploration of the possibility of bullying and/or 92

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helping the young person to become more positively motivated through some kind of cognitive behavioural intervention. In this sense we would be treating the inattentiveness as a cognitive distortion. If, however, we find, as a result of investigation, that the young person has a persistent difficulty in maintaining attention in lessons without indications of the presence of significant cognitive distortions then it might be appropriate to invite the student to undergo a standardized test of vigilance which would enable us to establish the possibility of a cognitive deficit in this area that may have a neurological basis. If a cognitive deficit is identified then this will have to be accommodated within the pedagogical approaches that are taken with this young person, and remedial and/or compensatory strategies will need to be developed that will diminish the negative impact of the deficit on the young person’s socialemotional and educational engagement. In the real world it will sometimes be the case that cognitive deficits and distortions are both present, and that both types of intervention will be necessary.

The biopsychosocial approach and the ‘looking glass effect’ Of course, cognitive distortions and deficits are by no means exhaustive categories in relation to SEBD; they are, however, valuable and important constructs for teachers and students. In stating this, we are aware that the use of the terms ‘distortion’ and ‘deficit’ may offend readers who associate such words with an outmoded and long-discredited ‘medical model’. A straightforward response to this challenge is as follows: human diversity is so rich and complex that one of the ways in which human society has chosen to deal with this is through the concept of ‘normality’. The problem with this construct is that it has, for many people, lost its true statistical meaning and taken on layers of cultural interpretation which leave us with the simplistic equation that ‘normal’ equates with ‘good’ and ‘abnormal’ equates with ‘bad’. It remains the case that the persecution of minorities (i.e. the statistically ‘abnormal’) is one of the most vile crimes of our age. However, it would be a deep mistake to shoot the statistical messenger. One of the major possibilities created by the biopsychosocial approach is the ‘looking glass effect’, by which human differences are highlighted with precision. What follows depends on the way we respond to the image of our reality that is reflected back to us through this process. For example, there is strong evidence to suggest that attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) is best understood as a biopsychosocial phenomenon in which certain biologically based differences render certain individuals at significant disadvantage in conventional schools and classrooms (see Chapter 4 in this volume). It follows that there is a glaring mismatch between the cognitive and behavioural characteristics associated with ADHD (American Psychiatric Association 2000) and taken-for-granted aspects of many schools and mainstream classrooms throughout the world (Cooper and Bilton 1999). One response to this challenge might be to use prescription medication and other interventions to enable those diagnosed with ADHD to adapt to these classrooms that are so clearly inappropriate to their learning needs. A different educational response would be to ask questions about the possible implications of an ADHD-friendly pedagogy for all students. In short, this would involve the creation of learning environments which were sensitive to the needs that children have for a variety of modes of educational engagement and which enabled students with ADHD to participate in ways that prevented their tendencies towards distractibility and/or impulsiveness and hyperactivity from being a hindrance to educational engagement (Cooper and Bilton 1999). In any event, the image of the student in the classroom that is presented by the ADHD, biopsychosocial mirror is consistent and informative. The decisions that are made about intervention, however, are subject to political and ideological interpretation. 93

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Conclusion The biopsychosocial approach emerges out of the view that human beings are best understood in the various contexts of their biological, psychological and social functioning (Bronfenbrenner 1979, 2005; Jahoda 2002), and that these contexts interact in complex and sometimes surprising ways. This means that the biopsychosocial approach enables us to capture, in our approach to understanding and dealing with SEBD, the widest range of influences and targets for intervention that are, at the present time, possible. This is not to say that every problem encountered when working with students with SEBD must be analysed exhaustively for its biological, psychological and social factors. On the contrary, we argue for the principle of ‘progressive focusing’ (see Cooper 2006), whereby it is most efficient to adopt a systemic approach which analyses the problem in relation to the immediate environment, in order to answer the question: what adjustment(s) to the environment need(s) to be made to diminish or prevent the recurrence of the problem? A systemic approach always considers the possibility that the environmental adjustment may be in the form of changing the way in which we understand the problem and then behaving in accordance with the new understanding (Cooper and Upton 1990). The individual only becomes the focus of analysis and intervention as a means to obtain greater insight into what adjustments need to be made to the environment. Where individual factors are implicated, of a social, psychological or biological nature, questions need to be asked about the implications of these factors for the ways in which the individual is best supported so that these factors do not contribute to SEBD. In this way the biopsychosocial approach mirrors the multi-dimensional nature of SEBD, and as such can act as an umbrella under which other approaches (such as psychodynamic, behavioural, cognitive behavioural and humanistic—see Cooper and Jacobs 2011) can be comfortably located. Finally, it is important to stress the value of the biopsychosocial approach in understanding and promoting social-emotional resilience. The burgeoning literature on this topic (e.g. Bernard 1991; Cefai 2008) presents a clear consensus that the promotion of well-being, in the widest sense of the term, is a multifactorial issue involving social, economic, psychological and physiological factors. This demands multi-disciplinary and multi-professional efforts (Hernandez and Blazer 2006), which a biopsychosocial approach encapsulates, arguably, more comprehensively than any other existing approach.

References American Psychiatric Association (2000) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual IV. Washington, DC: APA. Bernard, B. (1991) Fostering Resilience in Kids. San Francisco, CA: Far West Laboratory for Educational Research and Development. Braswell, J. (1995) ‘Cognitive-behavioural approaches in the classroom’. In S. Goldstein (ed.), Understanding and Managing Children’s Classroom Behaviour. New York: John Wiley. Bronfenbrenner, U. (1979) The Ecology of Human Development. Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press. ——(2005) ‘The bioecological theory of human development’. In U. Bronfenbrenner (ed.), Making Human Beings Human: Bioecological Perspectives on Human Development. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Cefai, C. (2008) Promoting Resilience in the Classroom. A Guide To Developing Pupils’ Emotional and Cognitive Skills. London: Jessica Kingsley Publishers. Cooper, P. (1993) Effective Schools for Disaffected Students. London: Routledge. ——(1997) ‘Biology, behaviour and education: Coming to terms with the challenge of attention deficit/ hyperactivity disorder’. Education and Child Psychology 14(1): 31–8. ——(2006) Promoting Positive Pupil Engagement: Educating Pupils With Social, Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. Malta: Agenda. Cooper, P. and Bilton, K. (1999) ADHD: Research, Practice and Opinion. London: Whurr. Cooper, P. and Jacobs, B. (2011) From Inclusion to Engagement. Chichester: Wiley. 94

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Cooper, P., Smith, C. and Upton, G. (1994) Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. London: Routledge. Cooper, P. and Upton, G. (1990) ‘An ecosystemic approach to emotional and behavioural difficulties in schools’. Educational Psychology 10(4): 301–21. Cooper, P. and Whitebread, D. (2007) ‘The effectiveness of nurture groups on student progress: Evidence from a national research study’. Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 12(3): 171–90. Corcoran, J. and Walsh, J. (2009) Clinical Assessment and Diagnosis in Social Work Practice. New York: Oxford University Press. Engel, G. (1977) ‘The need for a new medical model: A challenge for biomedicine’. Science 196: 129–36. ——(1980) ‘The clinical application of the biopsychosocial model’. Am J Psychiatry 137: 535–44. Frith, U. (1992) ‘Cognitive development and cognitive deficit’. The Psychologist 5: 13–19. Fullan, M. (1992) Successful School Improvement. Milton Keynes: Open University Press. Gatchel, R.J., Bo Peng, Y., Peters, M., Fuchs, P. and Turk, D. (2007) ‘The biopsychosocial approach to chronic pain: Scientific advances and future directions’. Psychological Bulletin 133, 4: 581–624. Geake, J. (2009) The Brain at School: Educational Neuroscience in the Classroom. Maidenhead: Open University and McGraw-Hill. Hargreaves, D., Hester, S. and Mellor, F. (1975) Deviance in Classrooms. London: Routledge. Henggeler, S., Cunningham, P.B., Pickrel, S.G., Schoenwald, S.K. and Brondino, M.J. (1996) ‘Multisystemic therapy: An effective violence prevention approach for serious juvenile offending’. Consulting and Clinical Psychology 65: 821–33. Henggeler, S., Melton, G., Brondino, M., Scherer, D. and Hankey, J. (1997) ‘Multi-systemic therapy with violent and chronic juvenile offenders: The role of treatment fidelity in successful offenders’. Journal of Adolescence 19(1): 47–61. Hernandez, L. and Blazer, D. (2006) Genes, Behavior and the Social Environment. Washington, DC: NIH. Jahoda, M. (2002) Ich Habe Die Welt Nicht Verändertby. Julius Beltz Gmbh. Kazdin, A. (2002) ‘Psychosocial treatments for conduct disorder’. In P. Nathan and J. Gorham (eds), A Guide to Treatments that Work (2nd edn). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Mosley, J. (1993) Turn Your School Round. Wisbech, Cambs: LDA. Norwich, B. (1990) Reappraising Special Needs Education. London: Cassell. Patterson, G., Reid, J. and Dishion, T. (1992) Anti-Social Boys: Vol. 4. Eugene, OR: Casralia. Plomin, R. (1990) Nature and Nurture: An Introduction to Human Behavioral Genetics. Pacific Grove, CA: Brooks/Cole. Purdie, N., Hattie, J. and Carroll, A. (2002) ‘A review of the research on interventions for attention deficit hyperactivity disorder: What works best?’ Review of Educational Research 72(1): 61–99. Rutter, M., Maughan, B., Mortimore, P. and Ouston, J. (1979) Fifteen Thousand Hours: Secondary Schools and their Effects on Children. London: Open Books. Sahakian, B. and Morein-Zamir, S. (2007) ‘Professor’s little helper’. Nature 450/20/27: 1157–59. Schostak, S. and Freese, J. (2010) ‘Gene-environment interaction and medical sociology’. In C. Bird, P. Conrad, A. Freemont and S. Timmermans (eds), Handbook of Medical Sociology (6th edn). Nashville, TN: Vanderbilt University Press. Stern, M. (2002) Child-Friendly Therapy: Biopsychosocial Innovations for Children and Families. New York: Norton. von Bertalanffy, L. (1968) General Systems Theory. New York: Brazillier. Whitbourne, S. (2005) Adult Development and Aging: Biopsychosocial Perspectives. Chichester: Wiley. Wong, D. (2006) Clinical Case Management for People with Mental Illness: A Biopsychosocial Vulnerability-Stress Model. London: Haworth.

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11 How affection shapes a young child’s brain Neurotransmitters, attachment and resilience Sue Gerhardt

There has been a quantum leap in knowledge about the root causes of emotional and behavioural difficulties in children over the last two decades—starting with the ‘decade of the brain’ in the 1990s. In this period, neuroscience has helped to clarify much muddled and contradictory thinking. In particular, it has given powerful support to the emergence of a new perspective, which offers a way of understanding emotional life by focusing on the regulation of emotions. This is the approach that will be described here. O’Connor et al. (2002) show that the foundations of emotional regulation are laid very early in life. In fact, the human brain is already being shaped during pre-natal life within the womb, when excessive levels of toxic substances such as alcohol, nicotine or stress hormones, as well as a lack of valuable key nutrients, can have an impact on the nervous system of the foetus. These influences can affect the way babies respond to the world around them after birth—for example, by leaving them in a more irritable state. They suggest that babies born to mothers who are highly anxious in the last trimester of pregnancy have double the risk of hyperactivity and attention deficits, as well as emotional difficulties, in early childhood. Once he or she is born, the baby actively starts to adapt to the intensely stimulating sights and sounds of life by making huge numbers of new synaptic connections between neurons. Then, in the second year of life, his brain rationalises these intense thickets of connections by ‘pruning’ the circuitry so that only the most frequently used pathways remain, whilst the others dissolve: a case of ‘use it or lose it’. By the age of two, the baby’s brain has already achieved 80 per cent of its adult weight and has established many of the neural circuits that are central to the management of emotions. Emotional learning is clearly one of the priorities for the human social animal. Some of the first brain systems to organise themselves are the stress response (or HPA axis) with its stress hormone cortisol, as well as various other biochemical pathways involving serotonin, oxytocin and dopamine, and several areas within the pre-frontal cortex (Gerhardt 2004). The timetable is important because these areas of the brain are most open to the influence of the environment during the periods when they are developing most rapidly. In fact, the important people in a child’s early life are the most significant features of that ‘environment’ and so play a highly influential role in shaping that child’s ‘social brain’ through the social stimulation (or lack 96

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of it) that they provide. In particular, parents or caregivers pass on their own ways of regulating emotions as well as conveying something of their society’s attitudes to emotion. As Schore and Schore (2008: 10), pioneers in this field, put it, ‘individual development arises out of the relationship between the brain/mind/body of both infant and caregiver, held within a culture and environment that supports or threatens it’. There is good reason for the malleability of these early emotion systems. Again, it is part of the brain’s ability to adapt. The emotion systems are tailored to the circumstances in which the child finds himself. If he or she lives in a highly challenging and stressful family environment, they may need to develop a brain that is inured to stress. What is stress for a baby or young child? One way of defining it is in terms of any sort of emotional or physical challenge that is more than the child can cope with at his or her stage of development. However, babies are dependent creatures who cannot physiologically manage much stress at all—they cannot regulate themselves. This means that physical or emotional separation from the parent can be particularly threatening for a vulnerable infant. Without the continuous presence of a supportive, familiar adult to guide and soothe, babies cannot maintain a balanced stress response or enjoy optimum development of other biochemical pathways. Adult caregivers’ availability and sensitivity to their babies are crucial if they are to feel safe and to develop secure attachments (Gerhardt 2004). Take one five-month-old baby, called here Nina (not her real name), with whom the writer worked. Nina’s mother had mental health problems and her father was being assessed by the writer to see if he was capable of managing the baby himself. He was a very emotionally stiff man who could not manage eye contact and had great difficulty in relaxing to play with his child. He would sit in front of his baby on the mat, unable to find a way to connect with her, looking embarrassed. He did not seem to be able to respond to her emotional cues, and resorted to picking her up and patting her woodenly from time to time. It soon became apparent that this relationship was very stressful for Nina. Without a responsive caregiver to regulate her emotions, she used the only strategies available to regulate herself—crying to elicit a response, sucking her fingers to comfort herself, or averting her gaze from the father who made her feel so uncomfortable and turning her head away from him for extended periods. The negative arousal that Nina was clearly trying to avoid would probably have been triggered by her amygdala—an area of the brain that is active from birth and is essential to survival (see Figure 11.1). It provides a ‘quick and dirty’ emotional appraisal of situations, telling us primarily whether a situation or a person is safe or not. When it judges a situation as unsafe, it triggers the release of the stress hormone cortisol as part of the ‘fight or flight’ mechanism, activating responses of fear, anxiety, rage and anger (Gerhardt 2004; see also Chapter 28, this volume). Many adults fall back on this level of reacting when they are overloaded with stress and feel temporarily unable to pay attention, think clearly or access the ‘top-down’ regulatory capacities that are located in the pre-frontal cortex (see Figure 11.1). However, at five months, Nina’s higher pre-frontal brain was still under basic construction, so she did not yet have the capacity to put her experiences into context, reflect on them, or hold back her impulses. Babies as young as Nina still rely on adults to provide those higher brain functions for them, until they have developed them for themselves. Babies also need adults to soothe their negative arousal back to a manageable level. This is achieved by experiences such as a satisfying breastfeed, the warmth of skin-to-skin contact, playful relationship experiences, being held, rocked, stroked, the musicality of a voice or of music itself. These sorts of experiences of mild positive arousal generate the biochemicals of contentment and relaxation—serotonin and oxytocin. They can disperse the stress hormone cortisol and restore the child’s equilibrium, creating the opposite of a stressful state—a feeling of safety or ‘safeness’, as Gilbert (2005) has helpfully described it. 97

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Figure 11.1 The human brain (From Gerhardt 2004)

When babies and young children enjoy these conditions of safeness, and regularly experience soothing and playful and pleasurable interactions, they are in the optimum state for emotional learning. Feeling safe and positively aroused, the brain releases glucose and brain-derived neurotrophic growth factor which support the growth of connections in the social brain areas. In effect, it is our positive human connections that create our neuronal connections (Gerhardt 2004).

Higher brain development The first area in the pre-frontal cortex to develop is the medial pre-frontal cortex, which plays a vital role in social and emotional life. Positioned near to the emotionally impulsive amygdala, one of its functions is to fine tune the operations of the amygdala. Whilst the amygdala’s social appraisals are instantaneous but very crudely black and white, the medial prefrontal cortex—in particular those regions called the anterior cingulate and the orbitofrontal cortex—expands the child’s self-awareness and enables a much more nuanced response to other people (see Figure 11.1). The anterior cingulate focuses attention on the individual’s own emotions and builds up a more conscious sense of the bodily and emotional self whilst the orbitofrontal cortex excels in appraising social situations by reading the cues offered by other people’s body language, learning to discern and interpret their emotions. These areas of the brain develop rapidly during the ‘toddler’ period, and by the age of about 18 months, the child has reached the point when she can recognise herself in the mirror, and can start to understand other people’s experience. As soon as the medial pre-frontal cortex is on the way to becoming established, ‘top-down’ control over impulsive amygdala behaviour becomes a possibility. The way this is established is through repeated experiences with firm and self-disciplined adults who both model self-control 98

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and who actively teach the child techniques such as self-distraction. Within a loving and secure relationship, the toddler is more likely to be motivated to imitate the adult’s mature behaviour, and to learn the difficult lesson of self-control. The adult’s expectations help the child to slowly master his impulses and as he does so, the repetition of those experiences lays down a pathway between the pre-frontal cortex and the amygdala, enabling the ‘higher’ brain to inhibit the more instant, impulsive reactions of the ‘lower’ (Gerhardt 2004).

Inadequate parenting and its consequences Such very early experiences are already predictive of later development. Kochanska and Knaack (2003) found that toddlers who could not manage what she calls ‘effortful control’ are the ones most likely to become hyperactive, anxious or conduct disordered later. The ability to manage self-control at less than two years old is predictive of the ability to manage it at three and four years old. Equally, a lack of self-control early in life has been linked to a lack of empathy aged eight years old. The link may well be the success or failure of orbitofrontal development, which plays a central role in all these capacities. Sadly, many parents do not have good regulation themselves and unintentionally pass on their own deficits and difficulties to their children. These problems are widespread. Over decades, attachment research has consistently shown very high levels of insecure attachment in diverse populations and cultures—around 45 per cent of children. One recent study of families with babies of six months found that as many as 39 per cent of babies were at risk of mental health problems (Bayer et al. 2007). Socioeconomic background is not the most significant factor—these risks (Hanson et al. 2010; Waylen and Stewart-Brown 2010) have much more to do with the parents’ own emotional regulation based in their own early attachment relationships—although stressors such as chronic poverty, parental mental health problems or family violence can and often do exacerbate regulatory difficulties (Hanson et al. 2010; Waylen and Stewart-Brown 2010; Evans et al. 2011). Children who live with adults who are unkind or unresponsive are often living with chronic, unresolved stress. Over time, following repeated experiences such as being left to ‘cry it out’ or being in a hostile environment feeling unsafe and unsupported, or experiencing close relationships themselves as a source of stress, the brain adapts. It may come to respond to life as a permanent emergency requiring constant vigilance and alertness. A ‘negativity bias’ can develop, where the child—and his brain and body—become primed to expect negative experiences. In such cases, the child’s amygdala may increase in size and become overactive. Fear zones in the nucleus accumbens may fill up relative to life-affirming ‘appetitive’ zones (Reynolds and Berridge 2008). The stress response may also become hypersensitive, meaning that it will over-react to small stresses and take a long time to return to equilibrium. Worse still, synaptic connections in other parts of the brain such as the medial pre-frontal cortex may be lost. Excessive levels of the stress hormone cortisol can be toxic to the rapidly developing early brain, particularly in those areas of the brain that have plentiful cortisol receptors—such as the anterior cingulate, hippocampus and pre-frontal cortex. These areas can be affected by overexposure to cortisol, which reduces the brain-derived neurotrophic factor levels which facilitate the maintenance, growth and development of synaptic connections in the brain (Arnsten 2009). This leaves the child ill-equipped to manage his impulses, unco-operative and under-socialised.

Internalising problems Stress in these early years can have a disproportionate effect on a child’s future well-being, because it undermines the basic systems on which emotional regulation depends. ‘Internalising’ disorders 99

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such as depression and self-harming are often rooted in things having gone wrong in the very early relationships of infancy. In particular, they are often the result of having been brought up by a mother who was herself depressed or unavailable or unable to respond to her baby for some reason. Since an extremely high proportion of mothers—at least 10 per cent—are depressed in the post-natal period, this is a significant risk for many children, particularly when the mother does not seek help. The failure to provide adequate emotional regulation during the period when the child’s stress response is being set up can leave a lasting legacy of difficulties in self-soothing and a tendency to get stuck in an anxious state, due to a hypersensitive stress response. Living with a depressed mother in later childhood, when the stress response is already set up, does not have the same impact (Essex et al. 2002). It can also lead to lower oxytocin reactivity and less ability to bond with others (Wismer Fries et al. 2005). Early unresponsive parenting has also been linked to other sorts of long-term problems of physiological regulation, such as inflammatory disorders, immune problems and even fibromyalgia (Wismer Fries et al. 2008). At a more psychological level, these are children who are not being helped to identify and name their emotions, so do not learn about their own emotions and do not develop self-awareness. This also hampers self-regulation. Their later attachments may also be somewhat undiscriminating (Gerhardt 2004).

Externalising problems The relationships that lead to externalising responses such as conduct disorder, anti-social behaviour and aggression have a somewhat different profile. The parents of such children often have a difficulty in managing negative feelings and negotiating or managing conflict constructively; they will tend to use coercion, physical punishment and bullying to manage their children. In fact, the best predictor of later anti-social behaviour is a parent’s coercive attitude to her baby (Tremblay 2004), as well as a parent’s lack of affection for her child aged two (Belsky et al. 1998). Physical abuse is particularly associated with an overactive amygdala. The child becomes sensitised to angry faces and anger cues at the expense of other emotions, making them less able to respond to social cues in a normal way (Pollak 2008). On top of that, their repeated negative experiences can have an effect on the developmentally later links between the orbitofrontal cortex and the amygdala. Physically abused children have been found to have smaller brain volumes in the right orbitofrontal cortex, the dorsolateral cortex, as well as other areas such as the right temporal and parietal lobes, reducing the child’s capacity to control amygdala-based emotions such as fear and anger (Hanson et al. 2010). It is interesting to note that externalising behaviour on its own has been linked with later maltreatment (Kaplow and Widom 2007). The stress of harsh disciplinary practices can also affect the stress response of young children. When children have to deal with prolonged and regular verbal or physical abuse, or witness violence and abuse, generating high levels of the stress hormone cortisol, their cortisol receptors may eventually close down (or ‘down-regulate’). In effect, their stress response has been switched off or put on ‘standby’ to avoid dealing with the toxic effects of too much cortisol. Their baseline cortisol falls to a low level, although it will under pressure ‘spike’ and shoot up. Levels of the neurotransmitter serotonin can also be affected. Serotonin is a biochemical that plays an essential role in relaxed, calm, self-accepting states. However, the serotonin pathways are also very sensitive to early adversity and stress. Serotonin levels are often low when cortisol is high. Maltreatment results in reduced serotonergic function. Some suggestive recent research investigated what kinds of stressful experiences most affected this soothing system. One hypothesis was that it was due to abusive, aggressive parenting; another hypothesis was that it was the result 100

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of neglect. What the researchers found surprised them. They found that the factor that most affected the levels of serotonin was social and emotional rejection; these were the babies who grew up with low serotonin as adults (Sanchez et al. 2007). However, it must be pointed out that this study was done with primates, not humans. Other research with pre-school children has also found that being rejected by their peers resulted in high cortisol levels (Gunnar et al. 2003). One might speculate that when children are emotionally rejected, they cannot enjoy the feeling of safety, belonging and self-acceptance that brings relaxation and tolerance. Unsurprisingly, low serotonin concentrations are also linked to anxiety, sleep disturbance and aggression (Gerhardt 2004).

Early brain development and later learning Children’s early experiences within their close relationships shape their capacity to regulate themselves and can have a profound impact on their later relationships, but recent research suggests that it is not just their well-being that is at stake. Emotional self-regulation is also the foundation for further self-organisation. It is the platform from which a child can begin to control and focus attention, plan actions and monitor social interactions. Learning and achieving is also crucially affected by the child’s regulatory capacities. Blair (2002) has undertaken studies of three to five year olds which show that self-regulation is also predictive of academic outcomes. Whilst emotional well-being depends on an ability to restore homeostasis by soothing oneself and by resolving conflicts with others, the most crucial regulatory capacity for learning is the ability to inhibit behaviour and delay gratification. Blair found that the children who can resist the urge to ‘blurt out’ the answer, shove the annoying child fidgeting next to them, and who can follow rules and take turns, are those who have better academic outcomes across the board. Their emotional regulatory abilities affect their ability to think. However, when talking about emotional regulation it is vital to keep in mind that this is not innate. Problems of regulation do not reside within the child, and are not rooted in his genetic make-up to any significant degree. The child’s capacity for self-regulation is created and passed on through relationship experiences. It is learnt (Gerhardt 2004). This is hopeful, as it suggests that further learning or re-learning is always possible. Certainly it is true that emotional learning does not stop at three years old. Synaptic connections are made throughout life. Although change in the brain will never happen in the same rapid and intense way that it happens in infancy, every consistent experience with a supportive, responsive adult can contribute to building new connections in the brain. At the same time, it is important to acknowledge that emotional learning is not just about ideas or behaviour. It is also inscribed in the brain’s neural circuits and built into bodily biological systems. This means that children who have been neglected or mistreated are not as resilient as other children. Their stress response systems are not balanced; they may over-react or underreact to situations. Their pre-frontal brains may not be well developed and they may lack the capacity to control their own behaviour effectively. Academic difficulties are associated with smaller orbitofrontal volumes (Hanson et al. 2010). Adult professionals who come to play a part in the lives of such children should be aware of these limitations.

Recovery and new learning On the other hand, if the brain’s emotional regulation develops poorly when relationships are poor, it can also recover to some extent through good relationships. At the moment we do not have any conclusive evidence to say just how much recovery is possible. The current picture that 101

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emerges from animal studies is that the hippocampus—which helps us to form and retain memories—has great plasticity and powers of recovery. The pre-frontal cortex can also be rebuilt, if stress has not continued for too long. However, the amygdala may not be so plastic. Anxiety may remain (Tottenham and Sheridan 2010). As understanding of brain development becomes more sophisticated, it can be used not only to grasp the roots of psychopathology, but also to recognise the conditions that will facilitate learning and emotional development. These are basically conditions that mimic a healthy early relationship. Just as a baby needs above all to feel safe and protected from harm, so do older children who have new learning to undertake. A new situation that provides a feeling of safety and belonging sets the scene for learning. We have probably all seen babies who are relaxed and contented exploring their surroundings and enjoying the process of exercising increasing control and mastery over their environment, whether that is the ability to make a dancing mobile move or the thrill of throwing food on the floor. The sense of self builds up out of such experiences of growing competence and the ability to have an impact, particularly on other people. Older children also consolidate their sense of self through getting a response and feedback from their environment and other people. The joy of playful relationship experiences is that they provide a safe space for practising physical and social skills, with responsive playmates—whether siblings, peer group, parent or teacher. At any age, the pre-frontal brain is stimulated by such pleasurable experiences, which release the opioids and the growth factors that help the pre-frontal brain to connect up. However, those children who have not enjoyed sufficiently warm and responsive relationships in their families or with other early caregivers may have great difficulty in learning and making use of new opportunities. Their brains may be primed to scan for danger, and they may have little ability to control their impulses, or they may be highly vulnerable to social rejection and hypersensitive to stress. If these children are to recover their emotional resilience and capacity to learn, they will need to make good some of the deficits of their early experience. Feeling part of a social group where there is acceptance not rejection, where each child matters and would be missed, may help to restore the serotonin levels and the capacity for self-soothing. Adults who model self-control and empathy for others are teaching emotional regulation. Above all, warmth and acknowledgement of the child’s emotional states may be the crucial factor that helps to stimulate the medial prefrontal cortex, which is essential for recovery.

References Arnsten, A. (2009) ‘Stress signalling pathways that impair prefrontal cortex structure and function’. Nature Reviews Neuroscience 10: 410–22. Bayer, J., Hiscock, H., Morton-Allen, E., Ukoumunne, O. and Wake, M. (2007) ‘Prevention of mental health problems: rationale for a universal approach’. Archives of Disease in Childhood 92: 34–38. Belsky, J., Hsieh, K. and Crnic, K. (1998) ‘Mothering, fathering and infant negativity as antecedents of boys’ externalising problems’. Development and Psychopathology 10(2): 301–19. Blair, C. (2002) ‘School readiness: integration, cognition and emotion in a neurobiological conceptualisation of children’s functioning at school entry’. American Psychologist 57(2): 111–27. Blair, C. and Razza, R. (2007) ‘Relating effortful control, executive function and false belief understanding to emerging math and literacy ability in kindergarten’. Child Development vol. 78(2): 647–63. Department of Health (2007) National Service Framework for Children. Young People and Maternity Services: Core Standards. Essex, M., Klein, M., Cho, E. and Kalin, N. (2002) ‘Maternal stress beginning in infancy may sensitise children to later stress exposure’. Biological Psychiatry 52: 776–84. Evans, G., Brooks-Gunn, J. and Klebanov, P. (2011) ‘Stressing out the poor’. Pathways Magazine Winter 11. Gerhardt, S. (2004) Why Love Matters: How Affections Shapes a Baby’s Brain. Brunner Routledge.

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Gilbert, P. (ed.) (2005) Compassion. Abingdon: Routledge. Gunnar, M., Sebanc, A. M., Donzella, B., and van Dulmen, M.M. (2003) ‘Peer rejection, temperament and cortisol activity in preschoolers’. Developmental Psychobiology 43 (4): 346–68. Hanson, J., Chung, M., Avants, B., Shirtcliff, E., Gee, J., Davidson, R. and Pollak, S. (2010) ‘Early stress is associated with alterations in the orbitofrontal cortex: A tensor-based morphometry investigation of brain structure and behavioural risk?’. J. Neuroscience 30(22): 7466–72. Kaplow, J. and Widom, C. (2007) ‘Age of onset of child maltreatment predicts long-term mental health outcomes’. Journal of Abnormal Psychology 116: 176–87. Kochanska, G., Barry, R., Aksam, N. and Boldt, L. (2008) ‘A developmental model of maternal and child contributions to disruptive conduct: the first 6 years’. J. Child Psychol Psychiatry 49(11): 1220–7. Kochanska, G. and Knaack, A. (2003) ‘Effortful control as a personality characteristic of young children: antecedents, correlates and consequences’. J Personality 71(6): 1087–112. O’Connor, T., Heron, J., Golding, J., Beveridge, M. and Glover, V. (2002) ‘Maternal antenatal anxiety and behavioural problems in early childhood’. British Journal of Psychiatry 180: 502–8. Pollak, S. (2008) ‘Mechanisms linking early experience and the emergence of emotions’. Current Directions in Psychological Science 17(6): 370–5. Reynolds, S. and Berridge, K. (2008) ‘Emotional environments retune the valence of appetitive vs. fearful functions in nucleus accumbens’. Nature Neuroscience Vol. 11(4): 423–25. Sanchez, M., Olagbe, J., Felger, J., Zhang, J., Graff, A., Grand, A., Maestripiri, D. and Miller, A. (2007) ‘Activated p38 MAPK is associated with decreased CSF 5-HIAA and increased maternal rejection during infancy in rhesus monkeys’. Molecular Psychiatry 12: 895–97. Schore, A. and Schore, J. (2008) ‘Modern attachment theory: The central role of affect regulation in development and treatment’. Clinical Social Work Journal 36: 9–20. Tottenham, N. and Sheridan, M. (2010) ‘A review of adversity, the amygdale and the hippocampus: A consideration of developmental timing’. Frontiers in Human Neuroscience 3 (68). Tremblay, R. (2004) ‘Physical aggression during early childhood: Trajectories and predictions’. Pediatrics 114(1): 3–9. Waylen, A. and Stewart-Brown, S. (2010) ‘Factors influencing parenting in early childhood: A prospective longitudinal study focusing on change’. Child: Care, Health and Development 36: 198–207. Wismer Fries, A., Shirtcliff, E., Pollak, S. (2008) ‘Neuroendocrine dysregulation following early social deprivation in children’. Developmental Psychobiology 50: 588–99. Wismer Fries, A., Ziegler, T., Kurian, J., Jacoris, S., Pollak, S. (2005) ‘Early experience in humans is associated with changes in neuropeptides critical for regulating social behaviour’. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, USA, 102: 17237–40.

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12 Psychodynamic perspectives on children’s emotional growth and learning Paul Greenhalgh

Introduction For over two decades, the writer has worked to facilitate the development of others from the perspective of psychodynamic approaches. This body of awareness has been relevant, whether undertaking direct work with troubled children and young people, supporting and developing staff, or being responsible for the partnerships that make up children’s services across an area. The most useful core ideas are summarised below. The focus is on four areas, and given that emotional development becomes an issue when it does not proceed as expected, the inhibitors of development are discussed first; then ‘emotional holding’ (Greenhalgh 1994); third, the role of image and metaphor in promoting development; and finally, implications for organisations. The first two of these sections are relevant to working with children and adults, section three is more focused on work with children, and section four is focused on working with staff.

What inhibits emotional development? We live in a culture that values continuous development of the individual, or continuous improvement of the organisation, but we can often experience emotional blocks to development. Whether it is children acting out their difficulties through their behaviour, or staff appearing entrenched in some unhelpful ‘mind-set’, emotional blocks ‘acted out’ through behaviours can form barriers to development. At the root of such behaviour, which might, from one perspective, be seen as ‘anti-task’, there is often some difficult feeling that is ‘getting in the way’. Such feeling might be personally painful and so, often unconsciously, the person (or the group) finds some other mechanism to avoid facing it. Recognising when such mechanisms are at play is an important step in being able to assist the situation. The most common of these defences are summarised below.

Splitting In this defence, in order to avoid facing some sort of pain, the difficulty is attributed to others, allowing the individual (or group) to consider him/herself unscathed. A divided and contrasting 104

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situation develops, where one part of the dynamic is seen as all good, and another part of the situation as all bad. For example, the boy who was at times a compulsive thief and liar was also sometimes almost angelic. It was as if he were trying to say to himself and others, ‘If I’m such a nice and helpful boy, I can’t possibly be doing the sort of things I’m sometimes accused of’. The splitting dynamic sometimes is in operation when a parent sees the situation with the child at home as unproblematic and all the difficulties being experienced in the school situation. This defence can sometimes become a powerful group mechanism. A group of schools with which the writer worked considered their approach to vulnerable children to be exemplary. The difficulties they felt themselves to be experiencing they considered were all the fault of another part of the system, of social care, which the schools thought should carry the blame. In a case such as this the feeling being avoided might relate to the difficulty of owning one’s own responsibilities and accountabilities and therefore having to consider working differently.

Denial When a feeling is painful to us we can sometimes try to pretend that the feeling, or the impulse behind the feeling, is not there—we deny it.

Projection When we have a difficult feeling, the psychologically logical, but unconscious response is to try to get rid of the feeling through a piece of behaviour, which pushes the feeling into someone else. This mechanism was first identified by Freud. By pushing out the difficult feeling, the problematic content is controlled and the individual feels a temporary sense of release. Many staff working with children with emotional and behavioural difficulties identify how often they are on the receiving end of projections, being made to feel, at times, hurt, angry, abused, frustrated, intolerant, anxious and even frightened. A particular form of projection is ‘transference’, that is when difficult feelings associated with one person are transferred onto another person; the anger from the argument at home may get acted out at school. A child who lacks the inner resources to tolerate difficult feelings, or without the capacity for reflection and the language to communicate is likely to express difficult feelings through ‘acting out’ and making others have the feeling associated with the difficulty. Where this happens the projecting person genuinely believes that the difficulty is located in the other person (and so feels justified in hating that other person). When children or staff are not able to express a particular feeling and are projecting it, noting what one is being made to feel is a useful contribution to diagnosing what is happening in the interaction, and therefore the contribution that one might make to shifting the dynamic.

Distortion As a way of avoiding painful feelings, we might also distort our view of experience to fit with a particular internal frame of reference, as if we want to see a situation in a particular light because it is safer to do so. Sometimes this is secured by the individual taking on the attributes of others and installing them in his or her own inner world (further discussion in Greenhalgh 1994). The regular deployment of such defences may result in children or adults who appear overcontrolling or over-controlled. There is something paradoxical about these defence mechanisms. They help us to feel protected and safe, but they also inhibit further development. The protection they afford means that it would be counter-productive for others to try to pull down 105

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the defences. The dynamic will change when the individual (or group) is able to overcome their own defences. An important question is what interventions can be made to help facilitate this process? The task is to create other ways of enabling the person to feel safe, of creating stepping stones that will enable the person to acknowledge the difficulty. To do this effectively it helps to understand the dynamics that generate anxiety.

Paranoid-schizoid/’depressive’ experience Child psychoanalyst Melanie Klein developed a framework of development in which she argued that very young infants are in what she called a ‘paranoid-schizoid’ state, and that our task is to move towards what she termed the ‘depressive’ position. The concept of the paranoid-schizoid position is helpful in working with people with omnipotent, wilful behaviours, and who have issues about developing trust. In this state, the person (as in the pre-separation state from the mother) wishes to remain in control of experience, splitting off bad experience as belonging to others. This is a displacement of painful feelings arising from the difficulty in acknowledging that one can have multiple feelings (including perhaps love and hate) for the same person. Fear of loss and control may lead an individual to attempt to dissociate him/herself from his/her inner world, adopting inappropriately rigid patterns of behaviour. Whilst Klein used this concept in considering the development of very young infants, it is not unusual for adults sometimes to have parts of their personality stuck in this mode (further discussion in Greenhalgh 1994). The challenge of working with someone who is stuck in this sort of position is to enable them to relate in what Klein calls a ‘depressive’ way. In this position, one is able to perceive oneself and others as a whole, separate person. One can tolerate loss and limitation, which are experienced with less anxiety, and so ego development can proceed and the world can be perceived in shades of grey rather than just black and white. There is a crucial step in navigating the passage between these two states. In the paranoidschizoid state we believe that we remain in control, but if we are really able to relate to the other person we have to give up control, and so in some way become dependent on the other person, to trust. This movement is a quest with which, to some extent, we all have to struggle. The move from the ‘idealised’ paranoid-schizoid state to the ‘ordinary’ depressive state engenders fear because of this need to accept dependency. For some children this may be very difficult as dependency may be associated with rejection, neglect or active abuse. Crossing the bridge between the two positions may feel like a catch-22 situation, and the child (or member of staff) may need to advance and test out, and retreat over and over again in order to gradually commit to living in a more related manner. Helping someone to make this transition requires the provision of what the author has termed ‘emotional holding’.

Emotional holding This concept (see Greenhalgh 1994: chapter four) mirrors the relationship between a mother and baby; the mother is able to feel what the baby feels and respond appropriately. In doing so, the ‘good enough’ mother has enough capacity to take the baby’s projections, accept them without undue diminishment through defensiveness, and not be overwhelmed. By her reactions, the mother conveys back to the child an appropriately modified version of what s/he has projected, hopefully showing understanding. The mother thus acts as the vessel or ‘container’ which can contain what the baby projects, and who has a capacity for reverie and reflection. Such responsiveness enables behaviours or symptoms to be taken seriously, to be reflected upon and related to with empathy and without judgement. Emotional holding, then, is the containment of disturbing 106

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feelings which are inhibiting the capacity for growth and learning, demonstrating that distressing feelings can be tolerated, thought about and understood. In providing a holding environment, the adult (or manager) strives to be reliable, attentive and empathetically responsive to the explorations undertaken. Through this process the child (or adult member of staff) is enabled to recognise, acknowledge and manage difficult feelings—an important sequence to be aware of, when some may not yet be at the first step. This process involves enabling the child to be more in touch with his/her own feelings, to be more reflective and to think (and talk or write) about issues rather than ‘act out’, and to be able to better respect the feelings of others. These ideas are substantiated by the work of Winnicott (1964, 1965, 1974), Bowlby (1980, 1988) and Bion (1969). Winnicott’s idea of holding is described by Bowlby as being very similar to his idea of providing a secure base, and to Bion’s notion of containing.

The well-boundaried container The provision of emotionally containing boundaries is part of the process of providing emotional holding. It is frightening for children and adolescents to feel that noone can hold them, or that they can scare or control their mentors. The task in providing boundaries is to provide an ‘affirmative response to chaotic behaviours where the “carer” essentially is attempting to boundary the “boundaryless” individual in such a way as to achieve a meaningful space for both of them’ (Adams 1986: 3). The provision of appropriate boundaries is critically important. Casement (1990: 183) writes, ‘a child who is not given appropriate limits goes in search of them’.

Anxiety and autonomy The adult’s task is to contain, or hold, anxiety on behalf of the child until s/he can do this for him/herself. This involves the paradox of allowing children to experience some anxiety, so that they may learn to manage the containing space independently. Adams (1986) likens this process to holding an object on behalf of somebody else, and being trusted not to drop, lose, break or damage it until the other person is ready to take it back. In doing so the adult supports, but does not dominate.

Responding to projections The experience of being on the receiving end of projections can arouse strong feelings and sometimes there may be a natural, unconscious urge to retaliate. To react unreflectively offers no further understanding to the person of his/her dilemma. The manner in which we respond offers the possibility of either increasing awareness in the other person, or for emotional ‘stuckness’ to be reinforced. Responding to projections thus requires considerable self-awareness and capacity for self-management. The manner in which one responds provides a basis for demonstrating that distressing feelings can be tolerated, thought about and be, at least partially, understood. Whilst appropriately qualified staff give these processes interpretation, it is more appropriate for staff other than psychologists to demonstrate these processes through their own behaviour, attitude and approach. For example, the adult might acknowledge his or her own feelings in the situation or might (where appropriate and non-judgementally) speculate about the child’s feelings, empathetically providing a mirror to the child, reflecting feelings back to the child in such a manner that the child gains insight into his/her behaviour. The intent in this process is to enable the child, when s/he is ready, to ‘own’ the feelings, and to increasingly make links between feelings and behaviour. The experience of the adult’s capacity for reflection gradually enables the child to 107

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internalise this capacity for him/herself. Where the child experiences reflection upon his/her state of mind, s/he is gradually able to internalise the container, and develop a mind that can hold more thought.

The role of image and metaphor Not all development can be willed, or directed by the conscious part of the personality, the ego (Greenhalgh 1994). ‘It is not within the direct power of the ego to bring about transformation and renewal; the most the ego can do is open itself to the process’ (Donnington 1963: 149). Some areas of growth emerge from deeper levels within the psyche than the ego. When we make images, for example in play, story-making, painting and sculpture, we often engage with elements of the unconscious. Through using metaphor and image, which may be expressions of unconscious aspects of psyche, we are able to make new connections to our inner worlds, and from within find sources of new possibilities. For children whose development is impeded by emotional difficulties, the imagination has often become stuck and fixed, as if the children have become psychologically frozen. It may be that the children have not yet developed the language or egostrength to communicate adequately about their difficulties. Image and metaphor provide a medium through which to relate to those frozen aspects of the personality, helping to unfreeze them by inviting engagement with the unconscious. The ‘potential space’ for this work is created through an approach that is invitational, permission-giving and facilitating, and can draw upon the work of Jung (1977) on active imagination.

Holding and containing feelings Disturbing feelings may be expressed non-verbally through image, and since feelings are expressed through the symbol of the image, there can be a sense of safety and distance from the disturbing nature of the feeling. Jung (1977: 201) comments about his own active imagination: to ‘the extent that I managed to translate emotions into images … I was inwardly calmed and reassured. Had I left images hidden in emotions, I might have been torn to pieces by them.’ The use of metaphor obviates the need for defences. The image is tailor-made by the person and will be tolerable and acceptable to the person as s/he comes to terms with hitherto unacceptable parts of his/her experience.

Resolving inner conflicts Working with metaphor has the potential to change relationships between parts of the inner world. Symbols can reconcile inner forces, synthesise in new ways, and open up new possibilities. Exploring imaginatively through symbols is a way of both discovering and communicating about what is latent and emerging in the psyche. When a child engages in work with imagination and metaphor, s/he is very sensitive to the sincerity of the adult (Axline 1989). The adult should remain available to respond to requests for support, and receive the completed image as a gift, a gift from the unconscious. Too much adult curiosity at this point may be unhelpful for the child, but the child may wish to discuss the image. If this is so, the adult (other than those employed as psychologists, who may consider it appropriate to interpret), should simply remain within the metaphor provided by the child, perhaps asking questions about how the story might develop and what circumstances might encourage this. This gives the child further opportunities to relate to the symbols, exploring their potential meanings and perhaps to lead the story on to new possibilities. The role of the 108

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adult is to wait and be alert to what emerges: this attitude ‘of letting be … is the highest form of care … Releasement is detached involvement … We wait, however, not passively, but as saints and animals wait—in prolonged alertness to the unknown, the strange, the wonder’ (Avens 1984: 100–2).

Dynamics in organisations Now consider the way in which organisational dynamics have an impact on the processes under discussion. It is particularly important to be conscious of these dynamics in organisations that work with vulnerable children, so that staff awareness remains focused on the needs of the children. At the heart of understanding what it means to be effective in organisations is the idea of the taking up of role. As the Grubb Institute set out, ‘Role is the idea or conception in the mind through which a person manages himself and his behaviour in relation to the system of which he is a member, so as to further its aim or its purpose’ (Grubb Institute 1991: 5). The Grubb Institute argues that to take up a role implies being able to discover a ‘regulating principle’ inside oneself which enables one to manage what one does in relation to the requirements of the situation one is in, as a member of the organisation or group. The Institute claims that ‘by exercising authority on behalf of the system via his role, (a person) creates the opportunity (the space) for others within the system to be free to take authority in their roles to join with him in working to the organisation’s aims and objectives’ (Grubb Institute 1991: 21). However, sometimes we get drawn out of role. As indicated above, groups (whether of children or adults) can exhibit defensive and anti-task behaviours as an unconscious response to avoid anxiety. The possibility of ‘contagion’ between members of the group makes it possible for groups to become entrenched in regressive behaviour, particularly in larger groups (of more than 16 members). Group defences can entrench into ‘social defence mechanisms’, which may involve the creation of social systems that support systematic role violations. As Hirschhorn (1988: 56) says, ‘The social defences externalise individual defences’. Menzies Lyth agrees, pointing out that ‘members try to establish a social system that also acts as a defence against anxiety, both personal anxiety and that evoked by institutional membership’ (Menzies Lyth 1988: 229). Organisational defences are more likely to occur where the organisation fails to take seriously its members’ personal identities and where staff become drawn out of role. Where staff make use of social defences to avoid emotional conflict, relationships at work become depersonalised and where unchecked, the capacity of the group or team to accomplish its primary task becomes diminished. Systematic distortions serve to relieve the group of part of its anxiety, but inhibit the resolution of the emotional and personal difficulties present in the situation. Menzies Lyth’s work indicates a range of necessary interventions in such circumstances. These include the following:  Clear task definition. This requires ensuring that the group is clear about what it is supposed to be doing and that responsibilities and accountabilities are clear, as well as effecting such institutional changes as are necessary for task effectiveness.  Sustaining the values, roles and boundaries to achieve the task. The boundaries of the group help to define it and give it an identity, thus helping its members’ constructive engagement with it. Boundaries help define relationships and work across boundaries has the possibility of changing relationships and therefore creating anxiety. However, the exchanges that take place at the boundary of an organisation also help it to maintain its dynamic equilibrium.  The capacity to keep in mind the whole group. This is helped through the development of symbols of, or rituals for, the whole group. Hence the importance of vision and values for 109

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groups. Such mechanisms are important so that the group can be held in mind as a unifying entity rather than one that easily engages in splitting.  Enabling group members to feel safe enough (Whitaker 1985). This concept implies that group members should feel safe enough to be task-focused, not consumed by anxiety, but not too safe in the sense of being complacent. This enables the group to establish supportive group norms by feeling safe enough yet also being prepared to take risks without resorting to threatening others.  The capacity to mitigate defences and anti-task behaviour, in oneself and others. The group leader or manager needs to be Janus-like, looking inside and outside (the group and himself) as a participant and an observer (Tourquet 1974), and to mitigate anti-task phenomena such as social defence mechanisms or sub-cultures.  Managing differences in the group. Where differences in a group are not well managed, these can easily become a hook for social defence mechanisms, particularly splitting. Being both an individual in the group and a fully participating member of the group, without identifying with one extreme or the other, demands significant internal resources. This necessitates weighing up competing demands and acknowledging these, without falling victim to them. The task of the group leader is to enable the group to experience the many-sidedness and ambiguities of group life. The above approaches involve reconciling ‘the needs of the task and the psycho-social needs of the members of the institution, both members and clients’ (Menzies Lyth 1988: 235). Hirschhorn (1988: 229) indicates that where ‘the organisation acknowledges the good and the bad in its process and does not deny the pain and injury of working with others, people feel relatively whole and contain their propensity to scapegoat co-workers or clients’. Given that organisations are often subject to change, addressing the psycho-social dynamics of this is important: ‘Unless people have the opportunity to participate in the changes they will not be able to influence the creation of new social systems and the result will be an increase in suspicion, hostility and aggression’ (de Board 1978: 143). In the context of writing about loss, Marris (1986) explains how innovation and change may threaten the sense of occupational identity. He argues that in such circumstances staff should be given the opportunity to assimilate and adapt innovations to their own interpretations of their working lives, otherwise they will do their best to fend off the innovation. The above discussion has focused on factors that might inhibit the development of an organisation. Transformational leadership, which enables staff to make a real, positive difference to outcomes for children is also important and there is now a strong literature in this field. It is now widely recognised that effective partnership working in an area is an essential component to meet the needs of all vulnerable children, with all the relevant agencies delivering a ‘joined-up’ service. In England, the Children Act 2004 enshrined these expectations in law. There are many challenges to partnership working, with the various agencies having different cultures, priorities and expectations. This is fertile ground for the sort of social defences described above to readily take hold. As a Director of Children’s Services over the past few years, the writer has used the following strategies to mitigate the risk of negative dynamics in the children’s partnership, and to enable the partnership to strongly succeed:  Encapsulating the vision for the work in terms that remind all stakeholders of the whole nature of the endeavour. The vision is about improving outcomes for children, and one of the key concepts in enabling people to work together to achieve that vision is that of ‘the whole child in the whole system’. This mantra was used to reinforce each person’s shared 110

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responsibility for attending to the needs of the whole child and for their contribution to the whole system.  Securing strong commitment from all partners for key areas of development, such as our model for integrated working and staged intervention, and taking joint responsibility for implementation.  Challenging managers to consider how their proposals would have an impact on other parts of the system, and finding solutions that reinforce the nature of the whole system. For example, when the local manager of early years services proposed the development of a volunteering programme in these services, she was asked to partner with a manager of specialist services (who was considering a similar question) and develop an approach that could be applied across the whole system.  Establishing multi-agency training and development opportunities that enabled partners not only to reflect and learn, but to gain an understanding of what staff in other agencies were learning. The most important of these initiatives was to provide joint group consultation opportunities for managers from different agencies. This might be described as a ‘chain of holding’ situations across not just an individual organisation, but the children’s partnership of agencies working together in the area. While working in a number of contrasting posts at different levels of seniority, the ideas in this chapter have provided the author with a useful framework through which to evaluate behaviours of both children and staff, and through which to come to a view about the interventions needed, whether as a direct worker with children or as a senior manager, to secure the best possible outcomes for children and young people.

References Adams, T. (1986) ‘Holding and the Shadow – Holding On’. Unpublished paper given at a conference organised by the Inner London Authority Educational Psychology Service, London. Avens, R. (1984) The New Gnosis. Dallas, TX: Spring. Axline, V. (1989) Play Therapy. Edinburgh: Churchill Livingstone. Bion, W.R. (1969) Experiences in Groups and Other Papers. London: Routledge. Bowlby, J. (1980) Attachment and Loss. London: Hogarth. ——(1988) A Secure Base: Clinical Applications of Attachment Theory. London: Routledge. de Board, R. (1978) The Psychoanalysis of Organisations: A Psychoanalytic Approach to Behaviour in Groups and Organisations. London and New York: Tavistock/Routledge. Casement, P. (1990) Further Learning from the Patient: the Analytic Space and Process. London: Tavistock/ Routledge. Donnington, R. (1963) Wagner’s ‘Ring’ and its Symbols. London: Faber and Faber. Greenhalgh, P. (1994) Emotional Growth and Learning. London and New York: Routledge. Grubb Institute (1991) Professional Management. London: Grubb Institute. Hirschhorn, L. (1988) The Workplace Within: Psychodynamics of Organizational Life. Cambridge, MA and London: MIT Press. Jung, C.G. (1977) Memories, Dreams, Reflections. Glasgow: Collins. Marris, P. (1986) Loss and Change. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Menzies Lyth, I.E.P. (1988) Containing Anxiety in Institutions. London: Free Association. Tourquet, P.M. (1974) ‘Leadership: The Individual and the Group’. In G. S. Gibbard, J. J. Hartman and R. D. Mann (eds), Analysis of Groups. London: Jossey-Bass. Whitaker, D.S. (1985) Using Groups to Help People. London and New York: Tavistock/Routledge. Winnicott, D.W. (1964) The Child, the Family and the Outside World. London and Harmondsworth: Penguin. ——(1965) The Family and Individual Development. London: Tavistock. ——(1974) Playing and Reality. London: Pelican.

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13 Applied behaviour analysis Its applications and limitations Louise Porter

Behavioural theory and practice Given that thoughts or emotions can only be inferred from observation of actual behaviours, many proponents of applied behaviour analysis (ABA) take little interest in hypothetical entities such as the mind or will (Gresham et al. 2001). Therefore, ABA dismisses diagnoses such as emotional disturbances, characterising them as ‘explanatory fictions’, in that children are said to behave poorly because they are emotionally disturbed, and are diagnosed as being disturbed because they behave poorly (Alberto and Troutman 2009: 17). With its focus instead only on events that can be observed, behaviourist interventions occur in six phases.

Phase 1: Identify the target behaviour Behaviourist interventions begin with defining in observable and measurable terms the behaviour whose frequency needs to be altered. Ethics demand that these target behaviours be high-priority actions, which are acts that violate someone’s rights, rather than being mere inconveniences (O’Leary 1972).

Phase 2: Identify the goal Having identified which behaviour needs altering, interventionists then define in positive terms what modified form it will take following successful intervention. The advice in formulating these terminal behaviours or goals is to think small, keeping in mind that children cannot be expected to behave perfectly (Maag 2001).

Phase 3: Observation Observation will identify the circumstances under which the behaviour occurs. Depending on the type of target behaviour, when observing and recording, adults can focus on its frequency, rate (number of times it occurs within a specified time period), the duration or the intensity of each disruption, and whether the behaviour occurs in one or many settings (Gresham et al. 2001). 112

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Frequency or event recording requires a record of every instance of the behaviour, while with interval recording an observation period is divided into intervals and observers note whether the behaviour did or did not occur during, throughout, or at the end of each interval. Observation is also employed once an intervention is underway to evaluate objectively whether it is working.

Phase 4: Adjust antecedents A key principle of ABA is that interventions must be the least intrusive and restrictive methods available. Intrusiveness (or invasiveness) is the extent to which interventions interrupt the educational process, while restrictiveness refers to how much external control is imposed on pupils (Kerr and Nelson 2009). The least intrusive method is to adjust the conditions under which disruptive behaviours occur. Identification of which of these antecedents are salient for a given behaviour may be suggested by affirmative answers to any of the following questions (Bailey and Pyles 1989; van Houten et al. 1988; Wheeler and Richey 2009):        

Are there any activities during which the behaviour seldom (or frequently) occurs? Do particular routines or times of day occasion disruptions? Does the behaviour occur only with certain people? Could the behaviour be related to a skills deficit? Has a change in behaviour coincided with a significant event in the life of the pupil? Could the behaviour be a result of a medical condition or physical discomfort (e.g. hunger)? Does the behaviour have social pay-offs? Does the behaviour allow pupils to escape learning? If so, some aspect of the curricular content or teaching process is aversive to them.

Once it is clear which conditions are giving rise to disruptive behaviour, these can be adjusted to encourage desired behaviours.

Phase 5: Increase the frequency of desired behaviours When young people act disruptively, the aim is to replace this with positive behaviours. If these are not yet in their repertoire, adults can teach them new skills by modelling (that is, demonstrating) a behaviour and rewarding them for performing it; by giving prompts to help pupils complete a task, then gradually withdrawing these (in a process called fading) until they can complete the task alone; or by shaping, which involves reinforcing suboptimal performances and then requiring successive small improvements (or ‘successive approximations’) until they can perform the skill at a desirable level. Once pupils are capable of performing desired behaviours, these can then be strengthened by reinforcement—that is, by the delivery of a consequence that the child values. Reinforcement spans the following options.  Natural reinforcement. Adults can prevent disruptiveness by ensuring that natural reinforcers occur at a high enough rate to have a positive influence on children’s behaviour.  Task reinforcement. A long and daunting task can be broken down into smaller sections, with completion of each discrete section being reinforced (Skinner et al. 2005).  Social reinforcement. The most portable social reinforcer is praise, paired with social attention and approval (Kerr and Nelson 2009). However, praise is more often misused than applied 113

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correctly, often being delivered as a consolation prize to the least able pupils even when their work is below expectations (which can humiliate rather than encourage them), is delivered too rarely to alter the rates of undesired behaviours, is used insincerely to set a positive tone or to offset earlier criticism (‘I knew you could do better’), is a meaningless transition ritual to signal the need to move on to the next activity, or is a manipulation to induce onlookers to emulate a praised child (in which case it is not authentic appreciation of the recipient) (Brophy 1981; Good and Brophy 2007; Möller 2005). Other social reinforcers include appointing a child as leader of an activity, allowing the child to be first in a line or activity, and calling or writing to pupils’ parent/s about their positive behaviour (Zirpoli 2011). Activity reinforcement. To encourage pupils to complete activities that they do not like, you can reward them with the chance to do an activity that they prefer. Preferred activities may include free time, use of the computer, feeding the class pet, or listening to music (Zirpoli 2011). Problems with this method are that students with poor impulse control might not be able to wait until these activities are scheduled (Alberto and Troutman 2009; Neef et al. 1993; Neef et al. 2001), while students should have unconditional access to many activities, such as lunch time or music lessons. Tangible reinforcement. Tangible reinforcers are non-edible items that young people value for their own sake, such as stars, stamps, stickers, toys or magazines (Zirpoli 2011). Token reinforcement. Under a token reinforcement system, pupils can immediately earn points or a token when they display target behaviours. Later, these tokens are traded in for pre-negotiated backup reinforcers, which must vary to avoid satiation. Negative reinforcement. Instead of administering something positive that pupils like, you can increase the frequency of a desired behaviour by removing something that they do not like. This is termed negative reinforcement. An example is allocating no homework—removing the imperative to do homework (which pupils do not like)—to reward their diligence in class.

Phase 6: Decrease the frequency of undesired acts Once students’ desired behaviours have been strengthened, any remaining undesirable actions can be reduced or weakened by punishment if the behaviours are severe enough to warrant this ethically questionable practice and cannot be suppressed by other means. Strategies can be ranked in order from the least to the most restrictive methods (which refers to how much external control is imposed on children):  Simple correction. Simple correction requires children to right a wrong, which can be unobtrusive if they are willing to do so, but can escalate into a battle if they are not.  Differential reinforcement. This procedure calls on adults to reinforce alternative behaviours (such as raising one’s hand) instead of punishing the target behaviour (calling out). This requires that adults can overlook instances of the target behaviour, which is difficult to do for contagious behaviours. A reduced frequency of disruptive behaviours or increased frequency of desired behaviour can also be reinforced.  Extinction. Extinction involves identifying and then withholding the particular reinforcer (e.g. teacher attention) that is thought to be maintaining an undesired behaviour, resulting in its reduction. This method works only gradually, while there are many instances where it will not be effective at all: it will not eliminate self-reinforcing behaviours such as rocking or thumbsucking, or behaviours that permit students to escape work demands (Zarcone et al. 1994); it cannot compete with social payoffs such as having a conversation, or amusing one’s peers; and 114

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it cannot be used for self-injurious or violent behaviours (Kerr and Nelson 2009; Zirpoli 2011), or any behaviours that may be contagious.

Withdrawal of positive stimuli (Type 2 punishment) As the name implies, withdrawal of positive stimuli entails withdrawing something that children like when they perform an undesired behaviour, in order to decrease the chances of its recurrence. There are two main types of this form of punishment:  Response cost procedures. A privilege such as free time, or points or tokens are forfeited.  Time out from positive reinforcement. This involves removing children’s access to reinforcement following an unacceptable behaviour, perhaps by tactical ignoring of the child (which would work only if he or she notices); nonseclusionary time out, in which pupils remain where they are but are deprived of the right to earn rewards; exclusionary time out, when pupils are isolated within the classroom; and seclusionary time out, whereby children are confined to an isolated area. This last method can end up amounting to solitary confinement, while seclusion results in the loss of instructional time and can be reinforcing for those who wish to escape task demands (Myers and Holland 2000; Sterling-Turner and Watson 1999).

Presentation of aversive stimuli (Type 1 punishment) Type 1 punishment involves administering an aversive consequence. The only ethical method is verbal reprimands, in the form of brief, immediate feedback to pupils that their behaviour is unacceptable. As long as these are delivered in private and do not humiliate or embarrass pupils, reprimands can be very effective with mild behavioural difficulties but are less successful with more severe problems (Kerr and Nelson 2009), partly because being reprimanded can raise disaffected students’ status among their subgroup. The risk with reprimands is that they can become abusive. Some 15 per cent of pupils suffer repeated verbal abuse from their teachers throughout their schooling (Brendgen et al. 2006; Delfabbro et al. 2006). Those most likely to be abused are low-achieving boys who are socially and academically alienated, typically with attention difficulties and low motivation (Brendgen et al. 2006; Delfabbro et al. 2006). These are the children who are the focus of this volume and for whom support (rather than censure) would improve their chances of remaining engaged in learning (Brendgen et al. 2006). The second type of aversive punishment is physical or corporal punishment. In many jurisdictions this is illegal; even when permitted by law, there can be no justification morally for striking children and no justification practically in that less aversive approaches are more effective (Zirpoli 2011).

Critique As an authoritative theorist, the writer refutes the politics of ABA, its focus only on outward behaviour, its limited goals, ineffectiveness, negative side-effects, questionable ethics and impracticality. 115

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Politics Controlling theories such as ABA fail to question the assumption that adults have superior rights to be heard, while silencing children’s objections in the supposition that these would only be self-serving.

Focus on outward behaviours ABA assumes that individuals’ behaviour is governed by consequences—whereas all alternative approaches uphold that individuals behave as they do to meet their needs. The core need that behaviourist theory overlooks is for autonomy (Chirkov et al. 2003; Ryan and Deci 2000). This need was proposed first by Kant, whose ‘categorical imperative’ not to treat others as means to our own ends was advocated on the grounds that, by their nature, human beings need to be self-determining. In light of this, a model of human needs is proposed in which self-esteem is fed by both our need for connectedness to others and the need for autonomy (Figure 13.1). While most children prioritise belonging and therefore strive to please adults in order to secure our acceptance, the need for autonomy is so compelling in spirited (or non-conformist)

Figure 13.1 A model of human needs Source: (Porter 2008: 35) 116

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children that they are willing to risk our displeasure to prove to us that we cannot control them. These children have three mottos:  You can’t make me.  You can’t stop me.  You’re not the boss of me. The more adults try to impose external controls on these spirited children and thus violate their need for autonomy, the worse their behaviour becomes—see Figure 13.2. In its extreme form this escalating ‘dance’ of child defiance and adult coercion will be blamed on the child and labelled as oppositional-defiance disorder, but this overlooks the adult’s role in the escalation: children cannot defy a force that does not exist. Whereas behaviourism believes that individuals require incentives to behave competently, authoritative approaches believe that all individuals want to be competent (Greene 2008). The corollary of this view is that children’s incompetent behaviour is not due to a lack of incentive, but to a lack of skill—specifically, the ability to control their impulses and emotions. Just as children learn to spell without receiving consequences for their mistakes, so too they do not need punishment to teach them how to control their thoughts and feelings: they need guidance and support to do so (Greene 2008). Controlling discipline does not supply this.

Figure 13.2 The ‘dance’ of escalating adult coercion and child defiance Source: (Porter 2007: 157; see also Porter 2006) 117

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Goals Behaviourist theory aims at establishing, maintaining or reinstating order so that children can be successful at learning. However, it assumes that compliance is the only means to achieve this outcome. Compliance, however, is a dangerous goal: by failing to teach children that they are allowed to defy adults, it risks their being lured into abusive relationships (Briggs and McVeity 2000). Instead, interventions need to guide children to act considerately (Porter 2008). This cannot be achieved by administering consequences, because these focus children’s minds on what they earn by performing a behaviour, when instead considerateness entails thinking about how their actions affect others. They will empathise with others only when they have received empathy themselves.

Effectiveness To be truly effective, discipline should ultimately become redundant, as children become selfgoverning. For methods to be considered effective in this broader sense, they must achieve more than merely ending a disruption. Instead, future disruptions must be prevented, young people must learn something positive from correction, they should not feel intimidated or made a scapegoat by disciplinary methods, and onlookers should continue to feel safe. As for adults, we need to feel comfortable with our methods. However, we place teachers in an incoherent position when we advise them to work with children to further their learning, but then to do things to children to discipline their behaviour. This is inconsistent with constructivist pedagogy and fails to uphold our values of respect and fairness. Finally, our methods must not weaken children’s willingness to be guided by us. More than 50 years of robust research has compared these broad outcomes of parents’ and teachers’ disciplinary styles in early childhood centres and schools (Baumrind 1967; Feldman and Klein 2003; Porter 1999; Rutter 1983). Of the numerous studies, every single one has shown authoritative methods to produce superior results to behaviourism, across all domains of children’s development—see Table 13.1. These studies are especially credible because many are prospective and longitudinal. Table 13.1 Outcomes of disciplinary styles Behaviourist discipline

Guidance

Compliance is unstable and achieved only under supervision and the threat of punishment Rigid moral reasoning Lack of empathy for others Emotionally reactive, angry, explosive Low self-esteem External locus of causality Elevated rates of anxiety, depression Antisocial, withdrawn, socially unskilled Declining motivation, persistence, initiative Declining academic performance Escalating aggression, defiance and control, antisocial behaviour over time Hostility towards adults Premature orientation to peers

Observance of values is stable, as children learn ethical principles and internalise adults’ values Sophisticated moral reasoning Increased empathy and altruism Emotionally self-regulated High self-esteem Internal locus of causality Healthy overall emotional adjustment Socially skilled Intrinsically motivated to achieve, mastery oriented Increasing academic competence Increasing co-operation, self- autonomy and appropriate self-assertion Warm relationship with parents Enduring openness to adult guidance

Source: (Porter 2011: 6)

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Even when rewards and punishments bring about behavioural changes, these are seldom maintained or generalised to other settings. Importantly, ABA is ineffective with the core 5 to 7 per cent of pupils with whom teachers most need it to work. These are the young people with emotional or behavioural problems who pose the majority of disciplinary problems in schools, the ones who have to date received the most punishment and, therefore, for whom we have to conclude that if consequences were going to work, they would have done so by now. The conclusion even from behaviourists is that punishment is effective for the 95 per cent of children who do not need it and who would therefore respond to lesser methods; for the remainder, punishment seldom works (Maag 2001). Its disadvantages far outweigh its advantages and it fails to promote any lasting educational or behavioural improvements (Wheeler and Richey 2009).

Side-effects Next, even if behaviourist methods secured compliance, rewards deplete intrinsic motivation and teach an external locus of causality (Deci et al. 2001; Ryan and Deci 2000)—that is, low selfefficacy—to which troubled children are already prone. These side-effects can be avoided by replacing praise and other judgemental feedback with acknowledgement (Porter 2008). As for punishment, laboratory research finds that it is effective only when it is fairly intense and delivered both immediately (within seconds) and every time an undesired behaviour occurs (Johnston 1972; Lerman and Vorndran 2002). These conditions are unachievable in classrooms, not least because teachers cannot detect every misdeed and hence cannot punish reliably, while it is seldom possible to set aside all other activities to deliver immediate punishment. Moreover, administering an intense punishment is unlikely to be judged as ethical or justifiable in schools and will only enrage its recipients.

Ethics Children with emotional and behavioural disturbances are typically subjected at home to harsh discipline (Campbell and Ewing 1990; Crockenberg and Litman 1990). While 16.5 per cent of the general population endure physical or emotional abuse or neglect (Afifi et al. 2006), by school age perhaps as many as 70 per cent of children experiencing behavioural problems have suffered abuse or neglect (Thompson and Wyatt 1999). This injustice is compounded when oppressed young people experiencing coercive discipline at home are met with more coercion at school (Reinke and Herman 2002).

Impracticality The research on which behaviourist methods are based is commonly conducted with atypical individuals (often with severe disabilities); with atypical behaviours that are seldom issues for general education teachers; in atypical (often laboratory or clinic) settings; and delivered by atypical practitioners (commonly researchers and doctoral-level psychologists) who employ intensive interventions (Ervin et al. 2001; Nelson et al. 1999). There is little evidence that the findings thus generated would be relevant or achievable in the natural classroom environment (Nelson et al. 1999; Ervin et al. 2001). Teachers simply cannot manage the complexity of teaching at the same time as observing and recording all target behaviours. Consequently, they cannot reinforce or punish immediately, yet the success of behaviourism depends on their ability to do so. Moreover, it is impracticable for 119

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teachers to select salient reinforcers for each child, decide on the magnitude of punishments, oversee trade-ins of tokens for tangible reinforcers, and provide a menu of reinforcers that are valued by children while still being inexpensive. Thus, the method cannot focus on individuals— but the alternative of targeting the whole group for punishment for the misbehaviour of a few, will cause peers to isolate those who are already disaffected. Isolation reinforces an antisocial behavioural trajectory (Dodge et al. 2003).

Conclusion The techniques of ABA are deceptively simple but enormously difficult to apply accurately outside of laboratory conditions. Its imbalance of power between adults and children, its questionable ethics (coercing children already unjustly disadvantaged), its limited goals and lack of effectiveness in any broad sense, and the side-effects of its controlling approaches all render it an untenable approach to the complex needs of children with emotional and behavioural difficulties.

References Afifi, T.O., Brownridge, D.A., Cox, B.J. and Sareen, J. (2006) ‘Physical punishment, childhood abuse and psychiatric disorders’. Child Abuse and Neglect 30(10): 1093–103. Alberto, P.A. and Troutman, A.C. (2009) Applied Behavior Analysis for Teachers (8th edn). Upper Saddle River, NJ: Merrill. Bailey, J. and Pyles, D. (1989) ‘Behavioral diagnostics’. In E. Cipani (ed.), The Treatment of Severe Behavior Disorders: Behavior Analysis Approaches. Washington, DC: The American Association on Mental Retardation, 85–107. Baumrind, D. (1967) ‘Child care practices anteceding three patterns of preschool behavior’. Genetic Psychology Monographs 75: 43–88. Brendgen, M., Wanner, B. and Vitaro, F. (2006) ‘Verbal abuse by the teacher and child adjustment from kindergarten through grade 6’. Pediatrics 117(5): 1585–98. Briggs, F. and McVeity, M. (2000) Teaching Children to Protect Themselves. Sydney: Allen and Unwin. Brophy, J. (1981) ‘Teacher praise: a functional analysis’. Review of Educational Research 51(1): 5–32. Campbell, S.B. and Ewing, L.J. (1990) ‘Follow-up of hard-to-manage preschoolers: Adjustment at age 9 and predictors of continuing symptoms’. Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry 31(6): 871–89. Chirkov, V., Ryan, R.M., Kim, Y. and Kaplan, U. (2003) ‘Differentiating autonomy from individualism and independence: A self-determination theory perspective on internalization of cultural orientations and well-being’. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 84(1): 97–110. Crockenberg, S. and Litman, C. (1990) ‘Autonomy as competence in 2-year-olds: Maternal correlates of child defiance, compliance, and self-assertion’. Developmental Psychology 26(6): 961–71. Deci, E.L., Koestner, R. and Ryan, R.M. (2001) ‘Extrinsic rewards and intrinsic motivation in education: Reconsidered once again’. Review of Educational Research 71(1): 1–27. Delfabbro, P., Winefield, T., Trainor, S., Dollard, M., Anderson, S., Metzer, J. and Hammarstrom, A. (2006) ‘Peer and teacher bullying/victimization of South Australian secondary students: Prevalence and psychosocial profiles’. British Journal of Educational Psychology 76(1): 71–90. Dodge, K.A., Lansford, J.E., Burks, V.S., Bates, J.E., Pettit, G.S., Fontaine, R. and Price, J.M. (2003) ‘Peer rejection and social information-processing factors in the development of aggressive behavior problems in children’. Child Development 74(2): 374–93. Ervin, R.A., Radford, P.M., Bertsch, K., Piper, A.L., Ehrhardt, K.E. and Poling, A. (2001) ‘A descriptive analysis and critique of the empirical literature on school-based functional assessment’. School Psychology Review 30(2): 193–210. Feldman, R. and Klein, P.S. (2003) ‘Toddlers’ self-regulated compliance to mothers, caregivers, and fathers: Implications for theories of socialization’. Developmental Psychology 39(4): 680–92. Good, T.L. and Brophy, J.E. (2007) Looking in Classrooms (10th edn). New York: Longman. Greene, R. (2008) Lost at School. New York: Scribner. Gresham, F.M., Watson, T.S. and Skinner, C.H. (2001) ‘Functional behavioral assessment: Principles, procedures, and future directions’. School Psychology Review 30(2): 156–72. 120

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Johnston, J.M. (1972) ‘Punishment of human behavior’. American Psychologist 27(11): 1033–54. Kant, I. (1996 [1785]) ‘Groundwork of the metaphysics of morals’. In M.J. Gregor (ed.), Practical Philosophy. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 49–93. Kaplan, J.S. and Carter, J. (1995) Beyond Behavior Modification: A Cognitive-behavioral Approach to Behavior Management in the School (3rd edn). Austin, TX: Pro-Ed. Kerr, M.M. and Nelson, C.M. (2009) Strategies for Addressing Behavior Problems in the Classroom (6th edn). Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall. Lerman, D.C. and Vorndran, C.M. (2002) ‘On the status of knowledge for using punishment: Implications for treating behavior disorders’. Journal of Applied Behavior Analysis 35(4): 431–64. Maag, J.W. (2001) ‘Rewarded by punishment: Reflections on the disuse of positive reinforcement in schools’. Exceptional Children 67(2): 173–86. Möller, J. (2005) ‘Paradoxical effects of praise and criticism: Social, dimensional and temporal comparisons’. British Journal of Educational Psychology 75(2): 275–95. Myers, C.L. and Holland, K.L. (2000) ‘Classroom behavioral interventions: Do teachers consider the function of the behavior?’ Psychology in the Schools 37(3): 271–80. Neef, N.A., Bicard, D.F. and Endo, S. (2001) ‘Assessment of impulsivity and the development of selfcontrol in students with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder’. Journal of Applied Behavior Analysis 34(4): 397–408. Neef, N.A., Mace, F.C. and Shade, D. (1993) ‘Impulsivity in students with serious emotional disturbance: the interactive effects of reinforcer rate, delay, and quality’. Journal of Applied Behavior Analysis 26(1): 37–52. Nelson, J.R., Roberts, M.L., Mathur, S.R. and Rutherford, R.B., Jr (1999) ‘Has public policy exceeded our knowledge base?: A review of the functional behavioral assessment literature’. Behavioral Disorders 24(2): 169–79. O’Leary, K.D. (1972) ‘Behavior modification in the classroom: A rejoinder to Winett and Winkler’. Journal of Applied Behavior Analysis 5(4): 505–11. Porter, L. (1999) ‘Behaviour management practices in child care centres’. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of South Australia, Adelaide. ——(2006) Behaviour in Schools: Theory and Practice for Teachers (2nd edn). Buckingham, UK: Open University Press. ——(2007) Student Behaviour: Theory and Practice for Teachers (3rd edn). Sydney: Allen & Unwin. ——(2008) Young Children’s Behaviour: Practical Approaches for Caregivers and Teachers (3rd edn). Sydney: Elsevier. ——(2011) A Guidance Approach to Discipline: Theoretical Foundations. Brisbane: Small Poppies International. Reinke, W.M. and Herman, K.C. (2002) ‘Creating school environments that deter antisocial behaviors in youth’. Psychology in the Schools 39(5): 549–59. Rutter, M. (1983) ‘School effects on pupil progress: Research findings and policy implications’. Child Development 54(1): 1–29. Ryan, R.M. and Deci, E.L. (2000) ‘Self-determination theory and the facilitation of intrinsic motivation, social development, and well-being’. American Psychologist 55(1): 68–78. Skinner, C.H., Pappas, D.N. and Davis, K.A. (2005) ‘Enhancing academic engagement: providing opportunities for responding and influencing students to choose to respond’. Psychology in the Schools 42(4): 389–403. Sterling-Turner, H. and Watson, T.S. (1999) ‘Consultant’s guide for the use of time-out in the preschool and elementary classroom’. Psychology in the Schools 36(2): 135–48. Thompson, R.A. and Wyatt, J.M. (1999) ‘Current research on child maltreatment: implications for educators’. Educational Psychology Review 11(3): 173–201. van Houten, R., Axelrod, S., Bailey, J.S., Favell, J.E., Foxx, R.M., Iwata, B.A. and Lovaas, O.I. (1988) ‘The right to effective treatment’. Journal of Applied Behavior Analysis 21(4): 381–84. Wheeler, J.J. and Richey, D.D. (2009) Behavior Management: Principles and Practices of Positive Behavior Support. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Pearson Merrill Prentice Hall. Zarcone, J.R., Iwata, B.A., Mazaleski, J.L. and Smith, R.G. (1994) ‘Momentum and extinction effects on self-injurious escape behavior and noncompliance’. Journal of Applied Behavior Analysis 27(4): 649–58. Zirpoli, T.J. (2011) Behavior Management: Applications for Teachers (6th edn) Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall.

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14 Cognitive behavioural approaches to mental health difficulties in children Paul Stallard

The last 20 years have seen a growing body of knowledge demonstrating the development and effectiveness of cognitive behaviour therapy (CBT) with children. This substantial evidence base has resulted in CBT being recommended by expert groups, e.g. the UK National Institute for Health and Clinical Excellence (NICE), as a first-line treatment for children with depression, obsessive compulsive disorders, post traumatic stress disorder, and attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) (NICE 2005a, 2005b, 2006). Similarly, systematic reviews have consistently demonstrated that CBT is effective for the treatment of childhood emotional disorders of anxiety (Cartwright-Hatton et al. 2004; Compton et al. 2004; James et al. 2007) and depression (Weisz et al. 2006; Watanabe et al. 2007; Klein et al. 2007). CBT has therefore established itself as ‘the form of therapy most strongly backed by scientific evidence’ (Graham 2005).

The cognitive model Cognitive behaviour therapy builds upon behaviour therapy by attending to the child’s cognitions. In particular, CBT is concerned with the way the child thinks about their world and the meaning and interpretations they make about the events that occur (see Figure 14.1). The cognitive model assumes that the child’s cognitions generate an emotional reaction which in turn affects their behaviour. For example, a child may perceive school as unpredictable or frightening and may wake each morning worrying what will happen that day. This may generate strong anxious feelings which the child may interpret as signs that they are unwell and result in the child avoiding school and not attending. CBT is concerned with different levels of cognitions, including core beliefs or schemas, assumptions and automatic thoughts. Core beliefs or schemas are assumed to develop over time and provide the deep framework within which events are interpreted. They tend to be fixed, global ways of thinking and for some can become negatively biased and dysfunctional. Examples might be beliefs such as ‘I am unlovable’ or ‘I am a failure’. These are formed on the basis of important events and repeated experiences during childhood, e.g. poor attachment, abuse. Core beliefs and schemas lead to the formation of assumptions, the process by which these are operationalised into behaviour. Thus someone who is unlovable may assume that ‘there is no 122

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Figure 14.1 Cognitive model

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point getting close to anyone since they will only leave me’, and so behave in a very untrusting or uncaring way. Similarly, someone who believes that they are a failure may assume that ‘there is no point trying because I will get it wrong’. This cognitive framework results in the child selectively attending to any evidence, no matter how small, that might confirm their belief and to minimise or dismiss anything that might contradict it. This is often highlighted through the child’s automatic thoughts or self-talk. These tend to be the most accessible level of cognitions and provide a continuous commentary on their performance as a person (‘I can’t do this’; ‘I never get anything right’) and on the future (‘I might as well give up because I’ll never be able to do it’). Persistent and dominant cognitions such as these generate unpleasant emotional states, e.g. anxiety, anger, unhappiness, and are de-motivating, leading children to avoid, give up or behave in inappropriate ways. This in turn reinforces the child’s beliefs as they become locked in a self-perpetuating negative cycle. In addition to the different levels of cognitions their specific content tends to be associated with particular problems. For example, children who are depressed tend to think in very negative ways about themselves, their experiences and the future. They expect to fail or be blamed for things that happen. Similarly, anxious children tend to worry about uncertainty, possible danger and being unable to cope. They therefore perceive their world as dangerous and threatening with people being out to hurt or harm them.

Cognitive behaviour therapy CBT provides a way of helping children to understand the link between what they think, how they feel and what they do. They are helped to explore and become aware of their cognitions and how these are associated with their feelings and the effect on their behaviour. This process allows unhelpful cognitions to be identified, tested and revaluated in more helpful ways which make the child experience more pleasant feelings and become more motivated and able to face challenges and problems. In addition to the cognitive component, CBT helps children to develop better emotional awareness so that they can become better at identifying their different emotions and experiment with and develop a range of emotional management skills. Finally, CBT includes many behaviour techniques to facilitate behaviour change such as positive reinforcement, contingency management, monitoring and graded exposure. The process of CBT is based upon a model of structured collaborative empiricism. The therapist works in partnership with the child using a process of questioning and investigation to help them check the accuracy and helpfulness of their cognitions. CBT does not aim to simply encourage the child to think in positive ways. It is concerned with seeking alternative evidence and different views that enable the child to develop more helpful and balanced cognitions. In treatment this is typically achieved within 12–16 sessions and will usually involve sessions focusing upon psycho-education, emotional identification and management, cognitive identification, restructuring and cognitive enhancement, behaviour change, practice, problem solving and relapse planning.

Process of CBT with children Originally CBT was developed for use with adults and so the application with children requires careful attention. Stallard (2005) has identified seven areas that need to be considered in order to ensure that CBT is undertaken in a truly collaborative manner. First, CBT involves a partnership between the clinician and child in which an open and collaborative way of working is promoted and in which the important and active contributions of the child are encouraged. Second, CBT 124

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has to be pitched at the right developmental level so that the intervention is adapted to be consistent with the child’s linguistic, social and cognitive development. The development of an empathic relationship is a third fundamental requirement, through which the therapist conveys interest and importance to the child whilst providing an opportunity to understand as fully as possible how they perceive their world and the events that occur. Fourth, the clinician needs to be creative in order to engage and maintain the child’s interest and to flexibly craft the concepts and strategies of CBT to the child’s particular interests. The idea of guided discovery is promoted through the idea of empirical investigation where the child is encouraged to use behavioural experiments to objectively test their cognitions. Through this process of self-discovery the child is empowered to develop their own ideas and strategies. This involves helping children to identify and acknowledge previous successful experiences, their strengths or skills and to consider whether they can be used to help with the current situation. Finally, CBT with children needs to be enjoyable so that the process is fun, entertaining and engaging.

Adapting CBT for children CBT with adults was primarily developed as a talking therapy that required reasonable memory, linguistic, verbal reasoning and comprehension skills. With children these shills are developing and in many cases may be limited. Talking is not necessarily the favoured method of communication for many children, highlighting the need to ensure that CBT with children uses more non-verbal techniques. There are a number of textbooks that provide practical examples and materials about how this can be undertaken (Friedberg and McClure 2002; Stallard 2002, 2005) In terms of some of the key ideas, cartoons and thought bubbles provide a familiar way for children to discuss thoughts and to help them understand that there is more than one way to think about events. Brightly coloured worksheets provide attractive ways to help children identify bodily changes associated with different emotions. Games, puzzles and quizzes provide an engaging way in which some of the key concepts of CBT can be indirectly discussed and highlighted. Younger children enjoy puppets, which can provide a very engaging way for children to talk about their worrying thoughts and feelings. Storytelling is another familiar way of communicating with younger children and can be used to identify potentially important thoughts or feelings or therapeutically to consider new information to help reappraise and re-evaluate cognitions. Imagery and visualisation provide useful ways of developing coping (e.g. calming imagery, visualising success). Drawings and pictures can be used to discuss situations and to elicit thoughts and feelings. Computer logs and email can be used as methods of self-monitoring; visual diagrams can be used to highlight the link between thoughts, feelings and behaviour; rating scales to quantify strength or frequency of thoughts and feelings and pie charts to reassess attributions. Metaphors provide useful ways of helping children to understand some of the concepts of CBT (e.g. ‘computer spam’ to understand automatic thoughts), and externalising problems by drawing them helps to separate the child from their problems and provides a way of making the problem less abstract.

CBT in schools CBT was originally developed as a specialist mental health intervention for children with significant mental health disorders. However, recent developments have investigated whether CBT can be more widely available and in particular whether it can be effectively provided in schools. This interest has been encouraged by a number of factors, including recognition that the majority of children with significant mental health problems are not identified and referred for specialist 125

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help (Ford et al. 2008). Similarly, the growing focus on prevention and early intervention has resulted in researchers investigating whether CBT can be provided in a more timely way to those at risk of developing emotional disorders and those with emergent problems. This development has been facilitated by the availability of manualised evidence-based structured CBT programmes which can readily be used in group settings. Schools also offer a convenient and natural focus for their delivery and provide access to large numbers of children. This also provides a good fit with the increasing recognition at a policy level of the importance of the social and emotional aspects of learning, as highlighted by recent UK and US initiatives (DfES 2005; US Public Health Service 2000).

Preventive CBT Mrazek and Haggerty (1994) have provided a helpful framework for conceptualising different types of prevention. Primary prevention is concerned with promoting well-being and reducing the occurrence of new problems. Typically interventions are widely provided to all members of the target population, i.e. universal delivery. Secondary prevention or early intervention is targeted upon those displaying mild or moderate emotional problems with a view to preventing them from developing into more serious disorders. Finally, tertiary prevention or treatment aims to minimise the negative consequences of established disorders through the provision of effective interventions. Primary and secondary emotional health prevention programmes have been delivered within schools. Systematic reviews have found evidence to suggest that school-based universal and targeted prevention programmes can have a positive effect upon the emotional well-being of children (Adi et al. 2007; Shucksmith et al. 2007; Durlak et al. 2011). Durlak et al. (2011), in a meta-analysis of 213 school-based universal social and emotional learning programmes, found significant improvements in participating students’ skills, attitudes, behaviour and academic performance compared to controls. In terms of anxiety disorders, Shucksmith et al. (2007) found evidence that preventive interventions based upon cognitive behaviour therapy (CBT) were particularly effective. However, the reviews also noted that the research suffered from a number of significant limitations. In terms of number, there are still comparatively few well-controlled studies and few have been undertaken in the UK. Many studies have small samples and are underpowered to detect potentially important improvements. There is a lack of consistency in the outcomes that are assessed, which render comparisons between studies difficult. Programmes vary in content and length and so the effective components are not clear. Similarly, mediating and moderating factors that effect outcomes and sustainability have not been systematically evaluated.

Depression prevention programmes Whilst current research suffers from a number of methodological problems, the results nonetheless provide an insight into the effectiveness of school-based CBT programmes in the prevention of depression. The current position can briefly be summarised as this. First, most studies demonstrate significant post-intervention improvements in psychological functioning as evidenced by reductions in symptoms of depression (Merry et al. 2004). Whilst this is encouraging, the longerterm benefits have seldom been assessed and when they have, gains have often not been maintained (Horowitz and Garber 2006; Calear and Christensen 2010). The greatest short-term improvements tend to be reported in targeted, rather than universally delivered programmes, particularly if delivered by health rather than educational staff (Calear and Christensen 2010). The disappointing 126

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results from universal programmes have led some to conclude that the widespread roll out of universally delivered depression programmes in schools would be premature (Spence and Shortt 2007). Others have noted the considerable variability in the effectiveness of programmes based upon the same theoretical model, suggesting that factors other than the programme content or mode of delivery (universal vs. targeted) per se may be important mediators of outcome that warrant further investigation (Calear and Christensen 2010). Recent large, well-designed studies have again questioned the effectiveness of school-based depression prevention programmes. A recent Australian trial randomised 5,634 adolescents to a CBT-based intervention, ‘beyondblue’, or no intervention (Sawyer et al. 2010). ‘Beyondblue’, was a multi-level intervention delivered by trained teachers over three years. The programme helped adolescents develop skills to improve problem solving, social skills, resilient thinking and coping strategies. At the school level, the intervention facilitated the development of a supportive environment with community forums facilitating a better understanding of emotional problems and how to seek help. The intervention was theoretically developed and the methodological design was robust; however, there were no significant differences in depressive symptoms between the intervention and control groups. These results are similar to those found in the recent UK evaluation of the Penn Resiliency Programme (Challen et al. 2011). Trained teachers delivered the 18-hour programme to 1,952 Year 7 children. Comparisons with a control group of children revealed that encouraging post-intervention reductions in symptoms of depression were not maintained at two-year follow-up. Once again, practical challenges such as timetabling, class size, competing pressures and support from senior school management were identified as important. These studies highlight that whilst secondary schools offer a convenient way of accessing large numbers of children, they provide a complex and challenging environment in which to deliver depression prevention programmes in a sustained and effective way.

Anxiety prevention programmes The results of school-based anxiety prevention programmes are more consistent and encouraging. Neil and Christensen (2009), in a systematic review, identified 27 anxiety prevention trials, of which 21 were based upon CBT. Over three-quarters reported significant post-intervention reductions in symptoms of anxiety, with universal and targeted programmes being equally effective. There was considerable variability in effectiveness within individual programmes, but unlike depression prevention interventions, teacher-led anxiety prevention interventions were equally as effective as those led by mental health professionals. The positive effects of anxiety prevention programmes were also found in the systematic review reported by Fisak et al. (2011), which included 35 studies. Overall effect sizes were positive, albeit small (d = 0.18), but unlike depression prevention programmes were maintained at follow-up. Consistent with the conclusions of Neil and Christensen (2009), universal and targeted anxiety prevention programmes were equally effective, although Fisak et al. noted that they were more effective when delivered by mental health providers. The authors also noted that one particular programme, FRIENDS, emerged as particularly well established and was significantly more effective than other programmes. FRIENDS is a CBT-based programme and has versions for children (aged 7–11), youth (12–16), and more recently for young children aged 4–6 years (Fun FRIENDS). The 10-session programme involves a mix of large and small group work, role-play, games, activities and quizzes, and teaches children skills in three main areas. Cognitively, children are helped to understand the way they think and that some thinking styles increase feelings of anxiety whilst others may be more helpful and balanced. Emotionally, children are taught the physiological changes associated with anxiety and their unique response to stressful situations. Finally, children are helped 127

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to change their behaviour and through the use of problem-solving skills and graded exposure are helped to systematically face and overcome their worries. In addition to the child sessions, parents are invited to two to four psycho-educational sessions. These help parents to understand anxiety and to develop strategies to cope with their own anxiety. They are also taught problem solving and the principles of contingency management and reinforcement in which the child’s courageous and coping behaviour is rewarded rather than their anxious talk and problem avoidance.

Conclusion There is a strong evidence base to indicate that cognitive behaviour therapy is an effective intervention for many emotional problems of children. This has led researchers to explore whether CBT can be more widely provided and be delivered within school settings as a preventive intervention. However, whilst schools provide a convenient and accessible way of reaching large numbers of children and young people, the results from prevention trials have not always been positive. There is wide variability within programmes based upon the same theoretical model, suggesting that there are a number of factors that mediate their success. In order to maximise the possibility of success, programmes should be evidence-based, sensitive to the developmental stage of the child, be of sufficient length, and be delivered by appropriately trained and supervised programme leaders (Giesen et al. 2007). Programmes should use a sequential training approach, be engaging, use active and varied teaching methods, allow sufficient time for skill development and have clear learning goals (Durlak et al. 2011). In order to be sustainable over time, programmes need to be delivered with fidelity, fit within the often crowded school timetable, be relevant and consistent with school norms, and be endorsed and supported by senior staff. However, in addition to the crucial goal of demonstrating effectiveness within everyday schools, the wider costs and benefits of CBT school-based programmes need to be determined.

References Adi, Y., Killoran, A, Janmohamed, K. and Stewart-Brown, S. (2007) ‘Systematic review of the effectiveness of interventions to promote mental wellbeing in children in primary education’. Report 1: universal approaches (non-violence related outcomes). London: National Institute for Health and Clinical Excellence. Calear, A.L. and Christensen, H. (2010) ‘Systematic review of school-based prevention and early intervention programs for depression’. Journal of Adolescence 33(3): 429–38. Cartwright-Hatton, S., Roberts, C., Chitsabesan, P., Fothergill, C. and Harrington, R. (2004) ‘Systematic review of the efficacy of cognitive behaviour therapies for childhood and adolescent anxiety disorders’. British Journal of Clinical Psychology 43: 421–36. Challen, A., Noden, P., West, A. and Machin, S. (2011) UK Resilience Programme Evaluation. Final Report. London: Department for Education. Compton, S.N., March, J.S., Brent, D., Albano, A.M., Weersing, R. and Curry, J. (2004) ‘Cognitive-behavioural psychotherapy for anxiety and depressive disorders in children and adolescents: An evidence-based medicine review’. Journal of the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry 43(8): 930–59. DfES (2005) Primary National Strategy. Excellence and Enjoyment: Social and Emotional Aspects of Learning. London: Department for Education and Skills. Durlak, J.A., Weissberg, R.P., Dymnicki, A.B., Taylor, R.D. and Schellinger, K.B. (2011) ‘The impact of enhancing student’s social and emotional learning: a meta-analysis of school based universal interventions’. Child Development January/February, 82(1): 405–32. Fisak, B.J., Richard, D. and Mann, A. (2011) ‘The prevention of child and adolescent anxiety: A meta-analytic review’. Prevention Science 12(3), September: 255–68. Ford, T., Hamilton, H., Meltzer, H. and Goodman, R. (2008) ‘Predictors of service use for mental health problems among British schoolchildren’. Child and Adolescent Mental Health 13: 32–40.

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Friedberg, R.D. and McClure, J.M. (2002) Clinical Practice of Cognitive Therapy with Children and Adolescents: The Nuts and Bolts. New York: The Guilford Press. Giesen, F., Searle, A. and Sawyer, M. (2007) ‘Identifying and implementing prevention programmes for childhood mental health problems’. Journal of Paediatrics and Child Health 43: 785–89. Graham, P. (2005) ‘Jack Tizard lecture: cognitive behaviour therapy for children: Passing fashion or here to stay?’ Child and Adolescent Mental Health 10(2): 57–62. Horowitz, J.L. and Garber, J. (2006) ‘The prevention of depressive symptoms in children and adolescents: A meta-analytic review’. Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 74: 401–15. James, A., Soler, A. and Weatherall, R. (2007) Cognitive Behaviour Therapy for Anxiety Disorders in Children and Adolescents (review). The Cochrane Library, Issue 3. Chichester: John Wiley & Sons. Klein, J.B., Jacobs, R.H., Reinecke, M.A. (2007) ‘Cognitive-behavioral therapy for adolescent depression: A meta-analytic investigation of changes in effect size estimates’. Journal of the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry 46(11): 1403–13. Merry, S., McDowell, H.M., Hetrick, S., Bir, J. and Muller, N. (2004) Psychological and/or Educational Interventions for the Prevention of Depression in Children and Adolescents. The Cochrane Database of Systematic Reviews. Mrazek, P.J. and Haggerty, R.J. (1994) Reducing Risks for Mental Disorders: Frontiers for Preventive Intervention Research. Washington, DC: National Academy Press. Neil, A.L. and Christensen, H. (2009) ‘Efficacy and effectiveness of school based prevention and early intervention programmes for anxiety’. Clinical Psychology Review 29: 208–15. NICE (National Institute for Health and Clinical Excellence) (2005a) ‘Post-traumatic stress disorder: The management of PTSD in adults and children in primary and secondary care’. National Clinical Practice Guideline Number 26. Leicester, British Psychological Society. ——(2005b) ‘Depression in children and young people: Identification and management in primary, community and secondary care’. National Clinical Practice Guideline 28. Leicester, British Psychological Society. ——(2006) ‘Obsessive compulsive disorder: Core interventions in the treatment of obsessive compulsive disorder and body dysmorphic disorder’. National Clinical Practice Guideline 31. Leicester, British Psychological Society and the Royal College of Psychiatrists. Sawyer, M.G., Pfeiffer, S., Spence, S.H., Bond, L., Graetz, B., Kay, D., Patton, G. and Sheffield, J. (2010) ‘School-based prevention of depression: A randomised controlled study of the beyondblue schools research initiative’. Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry 51, 2: 199–209. Shucksmith, J., Summerbell, C., Jones, S. and Whittaker, V. (2007) Mental Wellbeing of Children in Primary Education (Targeted/Indicated Activities). London: National Institute for Health and Clinical Excellence. Spence, S.H. and Shortt, A.L. (2007) ‘Research review: Can we justify the widespread dissemination of universal, school based interventions for the prevention of depression amongst children and adolescents?’ Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry 48(6): 526–42. Stallard, P. (2002) Think Good Feel Good. A Cognitive Behaviour Therapy Workbook for Children and Young People. Chichester: Wiley. ——(2005) A Clinicians Guide to Think Good Feel Good. A Cognitive Behaviour Therapy Workbook for Children and Young People. Chichester: Wiley. US Public Health Service (2000) Report of the Surgeon General’s Conference on Children’s Mental Health. Washington, DC: Department of Health and Human Studies. Watanabe, N., Hunot, V., Omori, I.M., Churchill, R., Furukawa, T.A. (2007) ‘Psychotherapy for depression among children and adolescents: A systematic review’. Acta Psychiatrica Scandinavica 116: 84–95. Weisz, J.R., McCarty, C.A., Valeri, S.M. (2006) ‘Effects of psychotherapy for depression in children and adolescents: A meta-analysis’. Psychological Bulletin 132(1): 132–49.

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Section III

Assessment and intervention in educational settings

Introduction to Section III Ted Cole, Harry Daniels and John Visser

From aspects of theory, this Companion moves to an extensive section on assessment and effective intervention at whole-school, class, targeted small-group or individual child levels. In Chapter 1, it was stressed that assessment and intervention should regularly interact and influence each other and this observation is reflected in the content of various chapters. Jane Leadbetter (Chapter 15) looks from the perspective of educational psychologists. However, the aims of assessment and the phases of the suggested problem analysis framework that she suggests have relevance for all practitioners working with children with emotional and behavioural difficulties (EBD). Early intervention—preferably meaning identifying and responding to difficulties well before children start primary school—can make a crucial difference to pupils’ chances. In Chapter 16, Janet Kay describes multi-agency early years assessment and intervention in England in the first decade of this century. Kay alluded to co-morbidity of difficulties in children with EBD, a theme continued by Jodi Tommerdahl in Chapter 17. There is growing awareness that many children’s behaviour problems grow out of their communication difficulties. The chapter provides an outline of relevant theory on speech and language difficulties and practical advice for the classroom. Jane McSherry (Chapter 18) refers to the difficulties associated with assessment, but offers the rationale for robust, contextualised and practical ‘baselining’ and subsequent monitoring of the strengths and difficulties of children with EBD. In the second part of her chapter, she outlines assessment instruments found useful by teachers in British schools. In Section II, Louise Porter explored the basic tenets of the behaviourist approach before criticising its desirability and practicability for children with severe EBD (Chapter 13). In Chapter 19, Robert Gable, Lyndal Bullock and Mickie Wong-Lo offer a contrasting view. ‘Functional behavioral analysis’ (FBA), which has its origins in behaviourist theory, is now mandatory in the USA as the precursor to drawing up individualised behaviour improvement plans (BIPs) for certain children. The authors acknowledge difficulties to which Porter made reference and concede that FBA is still a work in progress. However, they conclude that ‘there is compelling evidence that FBA has significantly enhanced the “life chances” of many children and adolescents with EBD’ (p. 175). In Chapter 20, Kathleen Lane and colleagues in the USA give a persuasive account of themes that will be familiar to educators in the UK and many other countries. They advocate a 133

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comprehensive integrated three-tier (CI3T) model to addressing both learning and behaviour problems. Most children with EBD stay in mainstream schools and classes and all teachers have a responsibility to help them. As advocated in England for some years (e.g. Department for Education 1994), each school should have school-wide positive behaviour support policies and plans (Tier 1), which identify children’s cognitive, social and emotional difficulties early in their careers, facilitating intervention before these difficulties become too entrenched. This universal approach will help to identify the children in need of targeted small-group support (Tier 2). For those in need of more assistance, Tier 3 must allow for high-intensity, individualised programmes that tackle both learning difficulties and EBD. In Chapter 20, by Lane et al., there are echoes of Daniels and Williams’ (2000) advocacy of the ‘framework for intervention’ (FFI) approach in Birmingham, England, which later spread to Scotland and other countries (where it became known as ‘staged intervention’). FFI stresses that teachers and school administrators should first conduct a detailed check of the factors in the whole-school and class environment that impact on a child. Only after adjusting negative factors in this environment should educators focus on the difficulties that can then be fairly assumed to lie within the young person. As a third stage, and for a small minority of pupils, teachers could need to resort to the input of ‘experts’, sometimes from beyond the school gates. As has already been suggested, the nature of the wider school context is crucial to how children with EBD fare in schools. This theme again appears in Carmel Cefai’s contribution (Chapter 21). He indicates how primary schools can provide a supportive framework that helps to offset other difficulties in the lives of children, but this only occurs when the values of the teachers are inclusive and they work actively at creating and maintaining caring, supportive and collaborative relationships with the pupils (see also Cole et al. 2001 on this topic). The reality remains in many countries that schools often fail in this endeavour, indeed often contribute to young people feeling unwanted, unsupported and unable to participate in academic and social aspects of school life. The theory of how children thus come to be socially excluded merits full treatment but space only allows a brief foray into this area in the paragraph below. Notions of participation and of access to resources necessary for participation are central to many definitions of social exclusion. Sen (1992) points to lack of ‘capabilities’ as the key component of the exclusion process. Socially excluded individuals are seen to have been denied access to the resources (material, cultural, emotional) that enable them to acquire capabilities. Recent developments in youth transition work have witnessed challenges to more popular conceptualisations of such resources understood as human, cultural and social capital (see Schuller et al. 2004). Coté (2005) proposes the notion of ‘identity capital’ in which identity negotiation and maintenance are paramount. These resources are seen to enable people to reflexively resist and/or act back upon certain social forces impinging upon them (see Schuller et al. 2004: 182). Coté (2005, 2002) argues that the development and use of such resources needs to be understood in terms of how social environments influence them. Here agency is taken to refer to: a sense of responsibility for one’s life course, the belief that one is in control of one’s decisions and is responsible for their outcomes, and the confidence that one will be able to overcome obstacles that impede one’s progress along one’s chosen life course. (Schwartz et al. 2005: 207) Thus we accept the view that the value of capital depends heavily on the sociocultural setting and that there is an important difference between the possession and activation of such capital or resource. Hence the importance of agency in the activation and deployment of capital and the resources on which individuals may draw in the formation of identities and enactment of 134

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resistance. These arguments point to the need to study movement in and out of trajectories of exclusion from school. They also point to the need to study the formation of identities, which facilitate resistance to negative influences. In Chapter 22, Tew and Park outline an important attempt by a past English government to build positive identities, promote inclusion and interrupt trajectories of exclusion. This was the Social and Emotional Aspects of Learning (SEAL) strategy (DCSF 2007), which acknowledged what the authors see as the need for schools to focus as much attention on overall ethos as on provision of targeted support for individuals. They cite research indicating the success in some schools of this approach but also the difficulties of measuring SEAL’s impact. They could perhaps have noted the fear of some commentators that educational initiatives such as SEAL create: a curriculum that lowers educational and social aspirations in its quest to be more personally relevant, inclusive and engaging and to reflect students’ real needs … far from being empowering, this invites people to lower their expectations of themselves and others, and to see others as similarly flawed and vulnerable. (Ecclestone and Hayes 2008: xiii) Our feeling is that curricula promoting social and emotional skills, engagement and relevance do not necessarily lower ‘standards’—indeed, in many schools, they can help to raise them—but the debate is likely to continue. Tew and Park’s ‘CLASI’ framework for assessing ethos (with CLASI standing for ‘capable; listened to; accepted; safe; included’) certainly identifies critical factors in the perceptions of children with EBD, which can influence whether they cope with life in mainstream schools (Daniels et al. 1999; Cole et al. 2001). Displays of violence are commonly associated with pupils with EBD, at times leading to their exclusion from schools. In a French perspective, Eric Debarbieux and Catherine Blaya (Chapter 23) give ‘violence’ a broad definition, making the distinction between rare extreme forms of violence and ‘micro-violence’ (verbal victimization and bullying), before outlining the approaches schools should adopt to reduce all forms of violence. As in the preceding chapters, they advocate whole-school and targeted approaches which involve adjustments to school culture, organisation, behaviour policies and teaching approaches. Drawing attention to the links that exist between behaviour and learning difficulties, Tatiana Akhutina and Gary Shereshevsky (Chapter 24) bring important aspects of Russian psychology to Western readers. They suggest ways of remediating impaired development of higher mental functions, based on Vygotsky’s work on ‘scaffolding’. Factors in emotional regulation and language development are also outlined, before the authors describe a programme designed to develop executive functioning in children with learning difficulties. In the contrasting but, in terms of content, related next contribution, the Welshman Rob Long (Chapter 25) notes the likely deficiencies in the executive skills of pupils with EBD. Doubting the completeness of classroom management techniques underpinned by behaviourist theory, he advises educators to address deficiencies in these children’s ability to control their feelings, in their response inhibition, and in their powers of memory, persistence and attention. Chapter 26, by the Australian Bill Rogers, focuses on how teachers and support staff communicate with children in class. The manner of this can clearly result in either the escalation of behaviour difficulties or the defusing of potentially explosive situations. In Chapter 27 the importance of a collaborative, democratic approach is again suggested (see Cooper et al. 1994 for an earlier endorsement of this). In their view from the Republic of Ireland, Paula Flynn, Michael Shevlin and Anne Lodge note the feelings of ‘palpable unhappiness, despair and struggle’ of many children with EBD, which can be lessened through staff consciously 135

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seeking to listen to pupils’ views, to respond to their feelings and to encourage the young people to be ‘active agents’ in shaping their schooling. Their Pupil Voice Research project took place in mainstream schooling but their message is equally relevant for staff working in alternative provision or special schools. In this section’s last chapter, Adrian Faupel’s (Chapter 28) elegant précis of some of his longer works explains the physiological basis of anger—again indicating the importance to teachers of understanding how the brain develops and functions—before giving practical advice on responding to displays of anger and loss of emotional control in school situations. The chapters in this and earlier sections have highlighted the complex and deep-rooted difficulties faced by schools when providing for children with EBD. Yet despite the extensive barriers to their learning, there is evidence that these young people can and often do respond to expert teaching across the normal range of subjects. Children with EBD have a right to a full and varied teaching experience and need to work towards nationally accredited qualifications, which remain the gateway to a successful adulthood (Ofsted 1999). Cole et al. (1998) and Ofsted (1999, 2005) gave evidence of classrooms where groups of pupils with EBD have been well behaved and motivated. Educators, while allowing for and responding to emotional and social and learning difficulties, cannot claim convincingly that all children with EBD ‘are not ready’ for learning. In recent decades in England, many special schools and mainstream environments have been criticised by government inspectors for holding unnecessarily low expectations and displaying poor practice in relation to these pupils—but other schools serving the same clientele (holding high expectations and achieving excellent standards) have earned high praise, demonstrating what can be achieved (e.g. Ofsted 1999, 2003, 2005). After a detailed new review of the evidence in the early years of the twenty-first century, the English government’s inspectorate, Ofsted, distilled many of the ingredients of responsive classroom practice for pupils with EBD in the following: Pupils’ attitudes, behaviour, and achievement are best where staff know pupils well and plan lessons which are well matched to their abilities and interests and take account of their different learning styles. In these lessons the transition between activities is managed well. High expectations are constantly reinforced and staff give meaningful praise. Marking is positive and takes learning forward. Pupils assess their work and discuss their progress with staff. (Ofsted 2005: 15, paragraph 67) This report (see also Ofsted 2003) elsewhere highlights the importance of a positive classroom ethos, good relationships, respect for adults for pupils, humour, pace, responsiveness to pupil learning styles and strong teamwork between adults. Pupils often react badly when staff show a lack of respect for or interest in them. Late starts to lessons, disorganised classrooms, low expectations and unsuitable tasks allow inappropriate behaviour to flourish. At some levels, effective teaching for pupils with the most difficult behaviour is little different to that for all groups of learners. However, with particular resonance for pupils with EBD, there is need for flexible curricula that are sensitive to vulnerabilities and build on pupils’ interests and strengths. In the last English government’s ‘20/20 Vision’, DfES (2006) sketched a future where schools addressed pupils’ social and emotional needs and made learning ‘personalised’. In advice, which agrees with most British research into working with children with EBD, teaching should be matched to the individual student’s learning needs by:  Projects that can cut across subject boundaries;  Flexible timetabling; 136

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 Developing ‘learning how to learn’ skills, e.g. oral communication, teamwork, evaluating data, creativity, reliability skills;  Formative assessment/less ‘testing’—‘stage not age’;  Learning and teaching to occur beyond as well as in classrooms; and  Flexibility of curriculum building on the student’s present level of learning and understanding, interests and what s/he sees as relevant (DfES 2006) The messages of ‘2020 Vision’ and the government’s endorsement and promotion of SEAL (see Chapter 22) were encouraging. Such developments allowed more for time-honoured and evidence-based good practice with pupils with EBD in all educational settings. Alas, as Philip Garner in the final chapter of this Companion notes, a change of government might now be putting this hopeful approach at risk.

References Cole, T. and Knowles, B. (2011) How to Help Children and Young People with Complex Behaviour Difficulties: A Guide for Practitioners in Educational Settings. London: Jessica Kingsley Publishers. Cole, T., Visser, J. and Daniels, H. (2001) ‘Inclusive practice for pupils with EBD in mainstream schools’. In J. Visser, H. Daniels, and T. Cole (eds), Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties in Mainstream Schools. Oxford: JAI/Elsevier. Cole, T., Visser, J. and Upton, G. (1998) Effective Schooling for Pupils with Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. London: David Fulton Publishers. Cooper, P., Smith, C. and Upton, G. (1994) Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. London: Routledge. Coté, J. (2002) ‘The role of identity capital in the transition to adulthood: The individualization thesis examined’. Journal of Youth Studies 5: 117–34. ——(2005) ‘Identity capital, social capital and the wider benefits of learning: Generating resources facilitative of social cohesion’. London Review of Education 3(3): 221–37. Daniels, H., Visser, J., Cole, T. and de Reybekill, N. (1999) Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties in Mainstream Schools, Research Report 90. London: DfEE. Daniels, A. and Williams, H. (2000) ‘Reducing the need for exclusions and statements for behaviour’. Educational Psychology in Practice 15(4): 221–27. DCSF (Department for Children, Schools and Families) (2007) Social and Emotional Aspects of Learning for Secondary Schools. London: DCSF. Department for Education (1994) Pupil Behaviour and Discipline, Circular 8/94. London: DfE. DfES (Department for Education and Skills) (2006) 2020 Vision: Report of the Teaching and Learning in 2020 Review Group. London: DfES. Ecclestone, K. and Hayes, D. (2008) The Dangerous Rise of Therapeutic Education. London: Routledge. Ofsted (1999) Principles into Practice: Effective Education for Pupils with EBD. London: Ofsted. ——(2003) Pupils with EBD in Mainstream Schools, HMI 511. London: Ofsted. ——(2005) Managing Challenging Behaviour. London: Ofsted. Schuller, T., Hammond, C. and Preston, J. (2004) ‘Reappraising benefits’. In T. Schuller, J. Preston, C. Hammond, A. Brassett-Grundy and J. Bynner (eds), The Benefits of Learning: The Impact of Education on Health, Family Life and Social Capital. London: RoutledgeFalmer. Schwartz, S., Cote, J. and Arnett, J. (2005) ‘Identity and agency in emerging adulthood: Two developmental routes in the individualization process’. Youth and Society 37: 201–29. Sen, A. (1992) Poverty Re-examined. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

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15 Assessing and supporting children and young people with EBD The role of educational psychologists Jane Leadbetter

Introduction Educational psychologists are employed in many countries around the world but have various titles and have different roles depending on local contexts, legislation, cultures and histories. This chapter describes and discusses a broad-based approach to the work of educational psychologists (EPs) with children and young people who have difficulties that are variously labelled, but generally falling under the category of having emotional and behavioural difficulties (EBD). The arguments around the terminology, taxonomies and approach to labels are discussed elsewhere in this book. Similarly, the complex interactional nature of EBD is described and debated elsewhere in this book and so this will not be covered in any detail, except that for EPs, the salient historical, contextual and cultural factors are of great importance when conducting an assessment and planning support for children with EBD. There are a number of key dilemmas that exist for EPs as they try to position themselves as effective practitioners. Four of these are described below.

Key dilemmas for educational psychologists Problematic and difficult behaviour in children and young people, as defined by those experiencing the difficulties and often with responsibility for managing it, has always existed; in homes, in schools and in the wider community. There has, in recent times, also been no shortage of ideas about how these behaviours should be dealt with, put right or cured. What we may, however, lack is the rationale by which to judge what is really of worth among all this and what will endure beyond the latest raft of legislation, the next fashion in terminology and the continuing evolution and hard sell of commercial enterprise in this field. (Miller 2003: 2) Hence, one of the key roles of the EP is to be able to sift through the plethora of new materials and suggestions, subject them to rigorous examination and evaluation, and then decide if they are fit for purpose given the range of situations in which they might be applied. 138

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One of the characteristics of the approach of EPs to their work is that they strive to apply psychology at a number of levels and not just assume that the problems reside within an individual and should therefore be addressed by individualised methods. Hence in numerous historical accounts of attempts to balance work, there are struggles as EPs engage in work at the level of the organisation, the school, the class, the individual and the family; often with direct work with individual children and young people taking precedence. Dessent in 1992 suggested: Most educational psychologists recognise that no matter how skilful and sensitive their work at the individual casework level, their efforts will be insignificant in comparison with developments which impinge upon organizations and systems and which operate at the policy level. (Dessent 1992: 40) Government reports reviewing the role and function of EPs have been published regularly. A typical report was published in Scotland in 2002 and is known as the Currie report: The role of the EP was clearly defined by the Scottish Executive as covering five core functions (consultation, assessment, intervention, training and research), required over three levels of child and family, school or establishment, and the educational authority or council. (Boyle and Lauchlan 2009: 79) Where EPs are mainly employed by local authorities, as is still the case in the UK, there are opportunities for EPs to be effective at all three levels using a range of approaches as outlined in the Currie report. However, as the work and employment bases for EP become more varied, it is likely that EPs will become more specialised in the types of work they undertake as they develop more specialist skills and knowledge. A long-standing debate within educational psychology has been about the use and value of psychometric testing. Strong views are held on both sides with some advocates convinced that test administration and interpretation is a core, unique skill open only to psychologists. Others, however, are unconvinced of the underlying validity of the approach and the test materials themselves, and find that using a wide variety of approaches to assessment yields more fruitful information and leads to direct applications. Hence there is disagreement within the profession and this affects profoundly the types of assessment and sometimes the interventions that are used. A final dilemma that exists for EPs working in the domain of children with EBD is the use of language more commonly associated with mental health and mental illness. There has been a rise in awareness of emotional aspects of children’s development and this has manifested itself in a number of ways, including the use of the terms ‘emotional intelligence’ ‘emotional literacy’ and ‘emotional well-being’. Alongside this, in England the introduction of compulsory curricular programmes such as the SEAL programme which addresses ‘social and emotional aspects of learning’ has changed the balance of subjects taught in primary schools, (DfES 2007). Squires suggests that this approach presents some difficulties: It has a language that is slightly alien and causes some unease to educational practitioners, who are more likely to construct emotional and behavioural difficulties in terms of social environment, social perceptions and social interactions. (Squires 2010: 280) 139

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In many ways the increase in attention to emotional development has been welcomed by EPs, but it has again focused attention on the individual who may, in some way, be viewed as deficient in emotional intelligence and who may therefore have mental health needs.

Principles and methods that guide practice There are a number of underlying principles that govern psychological practice with children and young people with EBD and these, in turn, direct the methods used. These are described below.

The purpose of the assessment Although this may seem obvious, very often children and young people are referred to educational psychologists because there are concerns and anxiety on the part of the adults in their lives. The reason for the assessment may be very unclear to the child or young person themselves. The referrer is usually a member of the school staff who has responsibility for the child or is their parents or carers. These adults have often been given advice and support and have engaged with other assessments previously, but it is often those children and young people whose needs are less straightforward and more complex who are referred on to EPs. In some countries it is a requirement that an EP contributes to the wider assessment process for all children and young people who may have special educational needs, including those with EBD. This can lead to a situation where an assessment is requested purely to access specific resources or placements, rather than to gain a fuller understanding of the child’s needs. However, more often assessments are asked for in order to understand more clearly where the child’s difficulties lie and what might be done to ameliorate them.

Aims of an assessment Educational psychologists do not view an assessment as an end in itself; rather it should aim to facilitate an improved understanding of the child’s strengths and difficulties which can be applied in order to bring about positive change in the child’s life. Hence, wherever possible, assessment and intervention should be closely linked. As far as possible the EP will try to involve the child or young person as an active partner in the assessment process, dependent upon the child’s maturity and ability to participate. Therefore they will explain what is going to happen as part of the assessment and will ensure that the child consents as far as can be ascertained. An important activity, when beginning an assessment, is to clarify the concerns of those who know and work with the child or young person. They will have different contributions to make and can give descriptions of the child’s behaviour, reactions and responses and other important information. This information will clearly be partial and subjective, although by triangulating information from a number of key informants pictures of the pupil in different settings and situations can be validated and in some instances shared with the pupil to gain their perceptions. The assessment may aim to explore the child’s current strengths and areas of need, in the context of their history and the environments in which they lived and have lived, and learn and have learned.

Values underpinning psychological assessment Although every psychological assessment is different, there are some core features that should be present, given the nature of the work and the role of EPs and their common background. Farrell et al. (1996) suggest that: 140

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it is important for EPs to adopt a strategy for assessment which is seen to be objective and systematic, and which is grounded in psychological theory. (Farrell et al. 1996: 81) Each assessment should aim to apply psychological theory and research in order to investigate and understand the child or young person in their current context. This is likely to involve drawing upon a number of psychological paradigms, in particular social constructivist, social integrationist and positivist perspectives. Throughout this book a biopsychosocial approach (Cooper 2005) has been adopted and this broad-based approach accommodates many of the principles held by EPs. However, from a psychological perspective there is perhaps more emphasis on the constructions that the child and others around the child have of the problems, the sense they make of them and the implications this has for their behaviours and the resulting consequences in their lives. Educational psychologists are trained to be creative and reflective scientist-practitioners. They are conversant with research methods and approaches and therefore are able to ensure that any methods of assessment they use are valid and reliable. Thus if they are assessing a child using specific tests and materials, they ensure that the test is fit for purpose and has been standardised (if appropriate) on a relevant target group. The test should be applied rigorously according to the instructions and interpreted cautiously. Controlling for bias is an important element in any interpretation, whether it is in an individual assessment situation or within the wider data collection process. Often a referral starts with a named child or young person, but it is clear that the problem is complex, multi-layered and systemic. Hence once basic information is gathered, a formulation, sometimes involving hypothesis testing, is made. To assist with this complex process, necessarily occurring over a period of time, various frameworks have been devised to guide the EP and others involved in the assessment through the process. The key is systematic application of psychological thinking to the process so data are collected and evaluated and the formulation and reformulations are made on an informed evidence base. Practising psychologists are usually regulated by professional bodies within their own country. Such bodies usually require specific entry qualifications and postgraduate training routes and then require registration, chartering or the equivalent in order to maintain standards and provide protection to the public. Hence EPs work under the guidance and regulation of professional and ethical codes of conduct and practice. This means that they are required to keep their own skills, knowledge base and training up to date, ensure that they only practice within their own competencies, and have regard to issues of confidentiality of clients and consent of clients. In cases of assessment of vulnerable children and young people and work with their families, it is particularly important that EPs are aware of the powerful position they are in and thus try to ensure that the child feels included in the process and decision-making, with their view and their voice heard and taken into account.

Support and intervention offered by EPs There is a clear link between psychological assessment and the support or intervention that might follow on from such an assessment, as mentioned earlier. Sometimes EPs are involved in devising the nature of the support, contributing to a jointly planned intervention, or in some cases undertaking direct involvement with the child or young person. It is important to recognise that when EPs work directly with children, then it is not always with the full agreement of the child or young person. This is a fundamental difference between psychologists who work with adult clients, who by and large have requested help. Therefore the nature of the relationship between 141

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the EP and the child or young person is different and can, at times, be difficult. This is particularly pertinent when work with a therapeutic intention is undertaken, as in such cases it is generally acknowledged that the nature of the relationship between the therapist (EP) and client (child or young person) is of paramount importance. Hence if a child or young person is required to attend sessions under sufferance, then it is unlikely that positive changes will occur. However, a skilled applied psychologist will try to find a way to relate to a reluctant pupil in order to engage them in finding ways to think or behave differently in the future in order to carve a more successful journey through their school or home life.

Educational psychologists working at different levels Working with individual children or young people Although there is no ‘right’ way to approach the assessment and support plan for a pupil with difficulties, a key feature of a good psychological assessment is that it follows a clear systematic procedure that is followed rigorously, is evidence-based and transparent. There are many methods available but one that encapsulates all the key important aspects has been devised by Monsen and Frederickson (2008). The current version of the framework, entitled a ‘problem analysis framework’, consists of six phases. One of the main assumptions underpinning the current version of the Problem-Analysis Framework is that the complex and ill-structured problems of practice with which applied psychologists (and trainees) are routinely involved can be seen to represent a complex set of interactions between the psychologist (trainee) and others, involving the explicit management of a range of information-processing and problem-understanding strategies and tasks. (Monsen and Frederickson 2008: 70–1) This statement clearly acknowledges the interactional and reciprocal nature of any piece of work undertaken by a psychologist. The EP is trying to make sense of and process a huge range of pieces of information, viewpoints, concerns, beliefs and problems and they need to deal with all of this in a fair, logical, psychologically informed manner. Hence a structured approach can help. The six-phase model is described in Box 15.1. Throughout the process there is involvement of the child or young person, and discussion and agreement with all parties involved in the assessment and intervention. This framework describes a logical process whereby assessment is linked to intervention and where the psychologist is central to directing and facilitating a collaborative partnership. During the assessment (phase 2) the EP may use a range of data collection and assessment methods, including: published checklists and inventories, normative tests, observation and interview techniques, criterion and curriculum-referenced approaches, or dynamic assessment methods. An intervention plan of support may consist of consultation with the key adults (learning mentors, counsellors, teachers, parents or carers) about ways of working with the child or young person. If behaviour management emerges as a key issue, there are a range of available approaches. Hart (2010) conducted a small-scale study and found that EPs still tend to base much of their advice to teachers about classroom behaviour management on behavioural psychology and associated methods; hence emphasis is given to clarification of rules, reinforcement of appropriate behaviour, response to undesired behaviour and management of rewards. If the intervention plan involves the EP engaging in direct work with the child or young person, this might involve a range of approaches depending on the decisions of the EP, their 142

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Box 15.1 Six stages of the problem analysis framework  Phase one: Background information, role and expectations—clarifying the request, what referrer hopes to achieve by involving the psychologist, nature of involvement of others.  Phase two: Initial guiding hypotheses, consisting of—part 1 initial guiding hypotheses, and part 2 active investigation (data collection and assessment).  Phase three: Identified problem dimensions—the psychologist sorts and combines the information obtained to identify at a conceptual level what aspects in the problem situation are currently problematic.  Phase four: Integrated conceptualisation, consisting of—part 1 integrating statement, and part 2 devising an interactive factors framework (IFF) diagram, which links all the key factors together.  Phase five: Intervention plan and implementation—agree action plan, feedback, agree problem analysis and devise intervention plan.  Phase six: Monitoring and evaluation of outcomes. (Adapted from Monsen and Frederickson 2008: 87–93)

skills and experience, the presenting problems and the particular characteristics of the child. Their approach might be more or less ‘therapeutic’ and may draw upon a range of paradigmatic approaches, which might include solution-focused psychology, personal construct psychology, cognitive-behavioural psychology, counselling approaches, motivational interviewing, or many others. It is likely that a combination of inputs may be recommended, with work being undertaken to adapt the teaching and learning environment for the child alongside direct individual work being undertaken. The length of time available and the competing priorities that exist when EPs work directly with school are factors that may influence both the choice of intervention and the success of the intervention.

Educational psychologists working with whole classes or groups A key concern that arises when EPs are called in to discuss a child or group of children because of their EBD, is that the advice given or the intervention planned may be exactly the same as that offered the last time a similar concern was raised. It can also be the case that when an EP observes a child in a class or group situation, many of the problems that are occurring are not solely related to a named child. It may be that several children are exhibiting similar behaviours or that the behaviour is being exacerbated or, in some cases, caused by the teaching and learning environment or the behaviour or skills of the teacher. In such instances the EP may suggest working directly with the teacher and other key staff to view the problems from different viewpoints. This might involve the EP observing the class on a number of occasions, providing consultation to the staff, setting up and facilitating support groups for staff or planning a programme to change aspects of the management of the teaching and learning. All these approaches can have positive effects on the behaviour of the named child, the group or class, and can help increase the teacher’s confidence or self-esteem. Improving the emotional or behavioural aspects of individual classes and groups is an area that has received attention recently, through the curriculum-based approaches mentioned earlier. Alongside the whole-school and whole-class emotional literacy-based approaches there 143

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have been more specific approaches introduced to many schools that are based on specific psychological principles introduced by EPs and others. One programme, successfully started in Australia and now running in many places around the world, is the ‘FRIENDS’ programme (Barrett et al. 2006; see Chapter 14, this volume), which uses cognitive behavioural approaches to work with whole classes around a range of social and emotional problems, particular those that are anxiety related. Training and supporting school staff to deliver such programmes is an area that EPs have been active in promoting. Similarly, the nurture group movement (Boxall 2002; see Chapter 29) has steadily grown in many schools and has been expanded from the original idea that specific groups could be set up in primary schools targeting children thought to be vulnerable, to wider applications in secondary schools and for whole classes (Boorn et al. 2010). Nurture groups evolved specifically from a psychological base in attachment theory and the movement has become more popular and relevant in recent times. Hence psychologists are regularly involved in the setting up and monitoring of nurture groups, in training staff and evaluating the work undertaken.

Educational psychologists working with schools and other organisations Working with large organizations can be very rewarding but is often challenging. Educational psychologists have been keen to explore how they can apply psychological theory in such settings and in doing so have drawn upon work undertaken by occupational and organisational psychologists. Often head teachers look to outside agencies, such as psychologists, to consult about changes, specifically related to aspects of the pastoral curriculum and support systems in schools. In turn, EPs have developed tools to help them work with schools in more systemic and systematic ways. Soft-systems methodology (Checkland and Scholes 1990) provides a useful way of collecting and analysing large data sets within organisations, and Frederickson (1990) developed this approach within schools. A different audit tool used for gauging the promotion and demotion of mental health in schools—the 10-element map (MacDonald and O’Hara 1996)— has been used by psychologists to help schools decide upon priority areas for action. Hall (2010) describes its use in eliciting the views of school children about the social and emotional aspects of learning in their school. In such roles, the EP is often acting as researcher and facilitator, in partnership with senior staff in the school. Where EPs are employed by local authorities, their skills are being more widely used to contribute to large-scale projects. As issues around child and adolescent mental health (CAMH) assume more and more importance, the role of EPs in working alongside other mental health workers is developing. This can involve setting up targeted services for children who are viewed as particularly vulnerable and then directing services to these groups. It can involve working with children who have witnessed domestic violence, children who are in care, or children who are newly arrived within countries, sometimes arriving from war-torn regions of the world (Hulusi and Oland 2010). In such instances, the application of a range of psychological theory and research underpins the work, including narrative therapy, bereavement counselling and working with gangs and disaffected children.

Conclusions This account of the work of educational psychologists has been influenced by the current context in the UK, a context that is shifting radically as services for vulnerable children are changing and services within health and education are under pressure and under scrutiny from outside bodies. Psychology has never been as popular, both as a discipline to be studied at advanced level at 144

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school and as a university degree. Moreover, the media in all forms are more interested than ever in the opinions of psychologists on all aspects of daily life. Popular psychology books proliferate, alongside self-help guides and advice from a range of experts and quasi-experts. Therefore, it is important to celebrate the increasing interest in psychology, especially in relation to those areas of life that are problematic, such as emotional and social well-being. It is also pleasing to note that most aspects of developing educational policy, around early years education, teaching and learning, and parenting, all have due regard to developments in psychology and have integrated research findings into their proposals. Therefore, at a specialist level there is an increasing role to play for educational psychologists with children and young people who have EBD of some form, but there is a wider role for psychology to play in influencing developments in policy and practice in education and childcare at all levels.

References Barrett, P.M., Farrell, L.J., Ollendick, T.H. and Dadds, M. (2006) ‘Long-term outcomes of an Australian universal prevention trial of anxiety and depression symptoms in children and youth: An evaluation of the FRIENDS programme’. Journal of Clinical Child & Adolescent Psychology 35: 403–11. Boorn, C., Hopkins Dunn, P. and Page, C. (2010) ‘Growing a nurturing classroom’. Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 15(4): 311–21. Boxall, M. (2002) Nurture Groups in Schools: Principle and Practice. London, Thousand Oaks, New Delhi: Sage Publications. Boyle, C. and Lauchlan, F. (2009) ‘Applied psychology and the case for individual casework: some reflections on the role of the educational psychologist’. Educational Psychology in Practice 25(1): 71–84. Checkland, P. and Scholes, J. (1990) Soft Systems Methodology in Action. Chichester: Wiley. Cooper, P. (2005) ‘Biology and behaviour: The educational relevance of a biopsychosocial perspective’. In P. Clough, P. Garner, J. Pardeck and F. Yuen (eds), Handbook of Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. London: Sage. Dessent, T. (1992) ‘Educational psychologists and the case for individual casework’. In S. Wolfendale, T. Bryans, M. Fox, A. Labram and A. Sigston (eds), The Profession and Practice of Educational Psychology: Future Directions. London: Cassell. DfES (2007) ‘Social and emotional aspects of learning. Improving behaviour … improving learning’. www.standards.dfes.gov.uk/primary/publications/banda/seal. Farrell, P., Harraghy, J. and Petrie, B. (1996) ‘The statutory assessment of children with emotional and behavioural difficulties’. Educational Psychology in Practice 12(2): 80–85. Frederickson, N. (1990) Soft Systems Methodology. Practical Applications in Work with Schools. London: University College London. Hall, S. (2010) ‘Supporting mental health and wellbeing at a whole-school level: listening to and acting upon children’s views’. Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 15(4): 323–39. Hart, R. (2010) ‘Classroom behavior management: educational psychologists’ views on effective practice’. Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 15(4): 353–71. Hulusi, H. and Oland, L. (2010) ‘Using narrative to make sense of transitions: supporting newly arrived children and young people’. Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 15(4): 341–51. MacDonald, G. and O’Hara, K. (1996) Position Paper on Mental Health Promotion. Society of Health Education and Promotion Specialists. Miller, A. (2003) Teachers, Parents and Classroom Behaviour: A Psychosocial Approach. Maidenhead, Berkshire: Oxford University Press. Monsen, J.J. and Frederickson, N. (2008) ‘The Monsen et al. problem-solving model ten years on’. In B. Kelly, L. Woolfson and J. Boyle (eds), Frameworks for Practice in Educational Psychology. London: Jessica Kingsley Publishers. Squires, G. (2010) ‘Countering the argument that educational psychologists need specific training to use cognitive behavioural therapy’. Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 15(4): 279–94.

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16 Identifying and addressing EBD in the early years Janet Kay

In England, policy developments under the government’s ‘Every Child Matters’ (DfES 2004) strategy encouraged interventions to reduce disadvantage in childhood and to improve life chances (Kiernan and Mensah 2009). Universal and specialist services were focused on supporting and promoting emotional and behavioural development to improve attainment (Maxwell et al. 2008). In other UK countries there has been a similar policy shift towards early preventative approaches and away from ‘crisis intervention’, for example, the Scottish Early Years Framework (Scottish Government 2008). Policy developments in this area coincided with heightened awareness of the need to intervene more effectively with emotional and behavioural difficulties (EBD) in infants and preschool children in the UK (Allen 2011) and abroad (see for example, NSCDC 2008, for the USA). Drawing on UK research that showed that emotional problems in young children were rising (Roberts 2000), the English government’s Sure Start (2006) programme set targets to increase the proportion of babies and young children achieving normal levels of personal, social and emotional development for their age. Defining EBD is difficult and contested (see Section I of this volume). In this chapter EBD will be considered as an educational term, as a category of special educational needs (SEN), and as a social and environmental issue relating to children’s individual difficulties and the social context in which these develop. It is a broad term that groups together a range of emotional and behavioural difficulties. Environmental factors such as parents’ views, school views, the child’s context and expectations of the child may influence diagnoses of EBD. While there is clearly an overlap between EBD and mental health problems even in young children, not all EBD in the early years will lead to or concur with an identified mental health problem. Research into EBD in infant and pre-school children’s development is relatively undeveloped. However, some young children aged two to five years are now recognised to have a range of EBD including severe behavioural problems, anxiety, attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) and EBD related to autism and other disabilities. Two recent studies suggest that EBD can be high in pre-school children, with estimates of between 7 per cent and 25 per cent (Barlow et al. 2005; Egger and Angold 2006). However, the extent of EBD identified will depend on the type of study and methodology used, what aspects are being measured and the approach to diagnosis (Boydell Brauner and Bowers Stephens 2006). Using the Strengths and 146

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Difficulties Questionnaire (SDQ) (Goodman 1997), the ‘Growing Up in Scotland’ study found that 5–12 per cent of children had behavioural difficulties on entry to primary school (Bradshaw and Tipping 2010). Early intervention is considered to be a successful and cost-effective approach to supporting children with special educational needs (Allen 2011; Tickell 2011). Evidence that behavioural problems and other mental health issues in the early years are both persistent and may have a long-term negative impact on cognitive development, and therefore educational attainment and life chances, underpins the focus on early identification and intervention (Currie and Stabile 2007; Egger and Angold 2006; Emerson and Hatton 2007). There has been some movement in policy responses to young children’s needs away from specialist provision in health and social care services and into early years educational settings and schools to increase levels of early intervention as part of the current agenda (DfES 2004; Allen 2011). In England, two overlapping strands emerge: treating defined mental health problems in clinical settings, and supporting the development of children’s emotional well-being in non-clinical settings, primarily early years settings and schools. This chapter focuses mainly on the latter strand.

EBD in the early years The multiple and complex causes of EBD are rooted in the genetic, environmental and psychological influences (see Chapter 10, this volume) on individual children’s development from birth. The key social and environmental influences on infants’ emotional development are the quality of early attachments; the type and quality of parenting; and the extent to which parents are subject to external and internal pressures such as poverty, mental health issues, social exclusion and substance abuse. Child abuse and domestic violence are also linked to increased chances of EBD. These factors will be strong determinants of the child’s early developmental pattern (Bradshaw and Tipping 2010; Chapter 11, this volume). EBDs are more likely when there are combinations of risk factors. It is the dynamic interactions between persistent adverse family situations and poor relationships, and the child’s genetic predispositions that are responsible for EBD in the early years (NSCDC 2008; Allen 2011). Systems models demonstrate that it is the links and interactions between these factors, often multiple and complex, which shape the individual child’s unique developmental pattern (e.g. Bronfenbrenner 1979). The relationships between children and their parents or caregivers have long been seen as the main factor affecting children’s emotional development and well-being (Bowlby 1951). Recent research into brain development has led to recognition of the long-term and intractable problems caused by poor or limited early attachments. Brain development in infants is affected by the quality of the care the child receives, which shapes the brain ‘architecture’ and stimulates or otherwise the brain connections necessary for emotional and social competence (Gerhardt 2004; Lowenhoff 2004). In children where there has not been sufficient emotional stimulation and attachment-building the brain may develop very differently, leaving the child with problems such as lack of emotional regulation and difficulty in controlling impulses. This is particularly noted in children who have suffered severe neglect in infancy (Gerhardt 2004; NSCDC 2008; Chapter 11, this volume). The quality of parenting environments and the mother’s and father’s own psychological status are major determinants of their capacity to nurture children effectively. Parenting with nonaggressive discipline, good social contacts and levels of parent-child interaction are associated with fewer conduct disorders and hyperactivity (Bradshaw and Tipping 2010). However, where parents are living in poor environments and are subject to multiple adverse circumstances the 147

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quality of parenting may suffer. Poverty is recognised as a major environmental factor, with half of three year olds with developmental delays and behavioural problems living in the 20 per cent poorest areas of the UK and 60 per cent of these children living in income poverty (Emerson and Hatton 2007). A comparative study found considerable differences in EBD across socioeconomic groupings. For example, 35 per cent of boys from the poorest one-fifth of households had EBD at three compared to 15 per cent in the other four-fifths of households (Washbrook 2010). Poverty is also an indicator for increased risk to other factors impacting negatively on parenting, such as living environment and parental health (Ghate and Hazel 2004). Poverty is also linked to problematic behaviour in young children at nine months and three years old (Kiernan and Mensah 2009). In this study, 18 per cent of children in persistently poor families had significant behavioural problems at three years old. They also found that maternal mental health issues, particularly depression, had a strong link to children’s behavioural problems at three years old. The relationship between factors influencing EBD is complex and dynamic, resulting in increased vulnerability to EBD for certain groups of young children. Children with other special educational needs have a high level of EBD. This is particularly notable with children with learning disabilities. Emerson and Einfeld (2010) found in their study of UK and Australian children aged two to three years that those with cognitive developmental delays were more likely to have EBD than other children. In the UK sample, children with developmental delay and EBD were found to be at higher risk of ‘adverse socioeconomic circumstances’. Bernard (2009) cites a number of studies that linked learning disability and EBD in young children. Bradshaw and Tipping (2010) found in children aged two to five in Scotland, that those with poorer general health were more likely to have behavioural problems. Autistic spectrum disorders (ASD) and learning disabilities are also associated with young children having behavioural difficulties. The extent of the EBD will depend on the child’s level of cognitive ability and social skills, the extent to which the child can cope in the learning environment, and the quality and quantity of support that the child receives. Children with ADHD are also more likely to have EBD because the key factors of hyperactivity and lack of concentration often lead to learning difficulties and social problems (see Chapter 4). There is also a significant link between EBD and language and communication problems, with three-quarters of children with EBD also having language problems and half of children identified as having language problems also having EBD (Benner et al. 2002; see Chapter 17, this volume). There are notable gender differences with between two and four times as many boys as girls being identified as having behavioural problems in some studies (Lindsay et al. 2006; Emerson and Hatton 2007). However, Kiernan and Mensah (2009) found a much smaller gender difference at three years old, with 8 per cent of boys and 6 per cent of girls having behavioural problems. There are also differences by ethnic group, with black Caribbean and mixed white/ black Caribbean children being one and a half times more likely to have EBD than other children (Lindsay et al. 2006). Children from traveller families, gypsy and Roma families are also more likely be over-represented among children with EBD. This is possibly at least partly due to children from these groups being more likely to live in poorer environments, but the role of discrimination based on dominant cultural expectations also needs to be considered (Lindsay et al. 2006). One of the concerns about identifying and responding to children with EBD in the early years is the possible negative impact of labelling on self-image and others’ perceptions of the child (Egger and Angold 2006). Children’s behavioural development both takes place in context and is responsive to context. When a child enters the social world of nursery or pre-school, the resulting interactions and responses to the child’s behaviour can become part of the complex 148

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causal factors of EBD. Labelling a child may shape adult-child interactions and create the conditions in which behaviour deteriorates (see Section I, this volume). For many young children behavioural problems may lead to problems with learning and social development. There is a two-way relationship between cognitive developmental problems and behavioural problems, as some forms of behaviour can impede a child’s learning. The child’s consequent frustration, and peer and adult responses to their behaviour, may lead to more intensified behavioural problems and delays in cognitive development. This may be particularly significant for children with cultural backgrounds different to the setting, where behavioural demands are incongruent between home and setting and behaviours may be judged through the lens of the dominant culture (Johnson-Powell and Yamamoto 1997). As more young children have been identified with emotional problems, the pressure on early years settings and schools to manage these effectively in group situations has increased (Roberts 2000). Moreover, the persistence of EBD over time poses a challenge for educationalists, as 50 per cent of children with these difficulties in pre-school years will have similar or escalating problems in school (Campbell et al. 2000).

Identification of EBD in early years contexts One of the main difficulties in identifying EBD in very young children is that emotional and behavioural development varies notably between children in the early years. Young children can periodically display challenging behaviours; feel and display strong emotions; and go through stages where emotional regulation is difficult. Some level of emotional and behavioural problems can be both common and transient in much of the pre-school population, with 40 per cent of children at this age showing at least one antisocial behaviour daily according to Willoughby et al. (2001). The NSCDC suggests: there is a broad range of individual differences among young children that can make it difficult to distinguish typical variations in behavior from persistent problems, or normal differences in maturation from significant developmental delays. (NSCDC 2008: 2) This poses the questions: what criteria apply to determining if a child has EBD, and are these criteria sensitive to rapid changes and varied developmental patterns in this age group? Egger and Angold (2006) worry that there is no clear knowledge and understanding of how to diagnose mental health conditions in young children. However, Marshall and Ramchandani (2008) suggest that it is when the child’s issues affect their functioning in different contexts or cause developmental delays that there should be serious concerns. The English government’s Code of Practice for the identification of pupils with special educational needs and current guidance suggest that EBD can be recognised as withdrawn and disruptive behaviour; persistent lack of concentration; learning difficulties that lead to further emotional stress; and social and relationship problems (DfES 2001; DCSF 2008). The extent to which these indicators are severe, prolonged and multiple is important, as on their own or as short-term symptoms these indicators are common in most children at times (DCSF 2008; NSCDC 2008). In infants these can include persistent problems with sleeping and eating, irritability and negative responses to care. In pre-school children these can include persistent anxiety, including fear of new situations and social contacts, restlessness, irritability and lack of concentration. Children may show extreme internalising behaviours such as withdrawal from social contact and excessive shyness, or externalising behaviours such as verbal and physical aggression, refusal to comply and destructiveness. 149

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In educational contexts the child may persistently disrupt learning activities, distract other children, refuse to engage in play and learning and express frustration with their own learning. They may have poor relationships with other children and adults and may seek attention from peers and practitioners through demanding and disruptive behaviour. In England, the approach to identifying EBD is tiered and covers a range of stages outlined in the Code of Practice (DfES 2001), repeated in the current government guidance on what it calls ‘behavioural, emotional and social difficulties’ (BESD) (DCSF 2008). In early years settings the use of observations to monitor all children’s progress is a key element of early identification. However, staff expertise in identifying issues of concern is variable, depending on training and experience. Some early years practitioners may not have the necessary knowledge and expertise to avoid either identifying temporary variations in development as EBD or to miss the indicators of more serious underlying problems. The role of the teacher responsible in English and Welsh schools for overseeing children with disabilities/difficulties and the staff who work with them, the special educational needs co-ordinator (SENCo), should include supporting staff development in identifying and responding to indicators of EBD. However, SENCos in primary schools may struggle to find time both to arrange training and to develop and perform their other roles. Moreover, SENCos may make decisions about children’s needs based on the views of parents and colleagues and their knowledge of resource constraints, rather than on objective assessment criteria. Some of the views involved may differ significantly, especially where the child’s behaviour is a source of stress within the setting (Dyson and Millward 2000). A key factor helping to identify EBD is the failure of initial additional and different learning experiences, when offered, to bring about progress (DfES 2001; DCSF 2008). Further assessment is then usually made in co-operation with parents or may be triggered by parental concerns. However, this presupposes a good relationship between the setting and parents, which may not exist, especially if the child is subject to abuse or neglect or is a ‘child in need’, or there are other barriers to parental engagement with staff, such as cultural differences which are not understood in the setting (Fitzgerald 2004; NSCDC 2008). In early years settings in England, the ‘Early Action’ stage is based on assessments that show that the child is not responding to behaviour management strategies in the setting and that their learning progress is not responding to differentiated or additional provision. The child may be assessed by an educational psychologist to determine if there are any specific or general learning disabilities. The ‘Early Years Action Plus’ stage may follow if the child continues to make little progress with emotional, behavioural and learning development despite additional support within the setting. This involves the intervention of other agencies to assess, plan for and support the child and possibly the family. In the case of a young child this would probably include a health visitor and possibly family support, social care work support and specialist health services such as speech therapy and physiotherapy if required. Professionals from other agencies would be expected to be involved in reviewing the child’s Individual Education Plan, which sets out targets for development and how these are being met (DfES 2001).

Interventions Interventions to reduce incidence of EBD in young children fall into two main categories: those that seek to support individual children and families, and those that seek to remedy the underlying social factors which contribute to adverse family life (Allen 2011; DCSF 2008; NSCDC 2008). The following discussion focuses mainly on the first strand and on early years educational settings. The main goals of intervention for young children with EBD in these contexts are to improve family relationships and the quality of parenting; to improve family circumstances to reduce 150

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adversity; and to provide the child with coping strategies and appropriate support and help to reduce vulnerability. There are a range of interventions that may achieve these goals, many of which share ‘best practice’ features, according to Greenberg et al. (2000). Interventions can be applied to the ‘whole school’ or setting, meaning that universal strategies are adopted to improve emotional well-being for all children, such as changes in ethos, pedagogical approaches, policies and behaviour management. Alternatively, they can be targeted on particular groups of children, or on individuals. These approaches are complementary, focusing on both children and family with multi-component interventions that aim to improve the child’s situation at home and in the educational context by reducing vulnerabilities and building on positive aspects (Maxwell et al. 2008). Shucksmith et al. (2007) found that successful multi-component interventions included cognitive behaviour therapy, social skills development and support for teachers and parents to deal with behavioural issues. Similarly, working with both children and parents is more likely to be effective than just with children. Integrated interventions involving health, education and community aspects of support and help, based in educational contexts, are considered the most effective. In the UK context, Sure Start Local Programmes (SSLPs) and subsequently, Children’s Centres are the most recent example of integrated, multi-disciplinary approaches to supporting young children’s well-being. However, an evaluation of SSLPs found that while universal services such as family support and parenting support were successful, there was a lack of focus on specialist services for children identified with EBD (Barlow et al. 2007). This underlines the point made above that both targeted and universal services are needed. Longer-term interventions are found to be more effective than short-term, with persistent interventions from an early stage being the most effective in improving behavioural problems (Weare and Gray 2003). Whole-school approaches that lasted for over a year and focused on improving emotional well-being for all children by making changes to the school environment are identified as effective. Whole-school approaches are influenced by concepts of emotional intelligence, which place emotional development at the centre of setting policy, practice, ethos and pedagogies (Weare and Gray 2003). Interventions that are embedded in the curriculum and which also have a clearly stated theoretical basis and are implemented ‘as designed’ by trained staff are also more successful (Maxwell et al. 2008). In England the government introduced a structured ‘universal’ programme to support the social and emotional development of young people, including very young children in primary schools, as part of the national curriculum. The primary Social and Emotional Aspects of Learning (SEAL) programmes (DfES 2005) is a long-term intervention involving the promotion of wholeschool changes to better meet children’s emotional needs, and also targeted work with small groups and one-to-one work with children to help their emotional and social development and ability to manage a wider range of situations. Evaluations of SEAL have generally been positive but staff training to ensure that the materials are employed as they were designed to be used is an issue, and staff attitudes could sometimes be negative. Staff training, leadership support and sufficient commitment to the programme were key factors in success (Humphrey et al. 2008). Parent involvement was found to be crucial in Maxwell et al.’s (2008) review of studies, both in terms of direct interventions with families to improve parenting and parental involvement in interventions aimed at their children. Early years settings and schools should involve parents as a matter of course and liaise closely with parents where there are special educational needs (DfES 2001). However, parents of children with EBD may have difficulties engaging with their child’s educational context, as they are more likely to struggle with economic hardship, social exclusion and possibly negative views of authority figures. Parents may be under high levels of stress, including managing their own child’s behaviour and possibly disabilities. The ethos of the 151

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setting and the recognition that there needs to be a variety of strategies to engage parents are important. Strategies such as home visiting, transition meetings, information sharing and regular feedback on the child’s progress are essential to building relationships with parents, but these approaches need to also encompass a welcoming, respectful and non-judgemental attitude from staff to parents. The value of early parenting support has led to the growth of parent education in children’s centres such as the Incredible Years approach (Webster-Stratton 2011). This involves working with parents and children to improve parenting skills and children’s social skills, including group work and activities for the home. Evaluations have generally found that this approach is effective and well-liked. However, the programme was most effective when the different elements were used simultaneously to improve parenting and children’s social skills, and in some cases parents struggled with the level of literacy required to participate.

Conclusions The central message on EBD in the early years is the need to develop and apply evidence-informed approaches to identification and to use a combination of interventions that support parents and children, in a context that is based on positive approaches to emotional and behavioural development. The current focus on early intervention has ongoing implications for the training and development of early years practitioners. However, the impact of early adverse circumstances and trauma is not easily overcome and continuing difficulties are likely for many children. At the time of writing, in England, policy trends may be moving away from the ‘Every Child Matters’ values and principles under the coalition government. Despite this, policies implemented in the early years that focus on prevention and early interventions are the most likely to succeed (Allen 2011).

References Allen, G. (2011) Early Intervention: The Next Steps. An Independent Report to Her Majesty’s Government. London: Cabinet Office. Barlow, J., Kirkpatrick, S., Wood, D., Ball, M. and Stewart-Brown, S. (2007) Family and Parenting Support in Sure Start Local Programmes National Evaluation report 2007. London: DfES Publications. Barlow, J., Parsons, J. and Stewart-Brown, S. (2005) ‘Preventing emotional and behavioural problems: the effectiveness of parenting programmes with children less than 3 years of age’. Child: Care, Health and Development 31(1): 33–42. Benner, G.J., Nelson, J.R. and Epstein, M.H. (2002) ‘The language skills of children with emotional and behavioral disorders: a review of the literature’. Journal of Emotional and Behavioral Disorders 10: 43–59. Bernard, S.H. (2009) ‘Mental health and behavioural problems in children and adolescents with learning disabilities’. Psychiatry 8(10): 387–90. Bowlby, J. (1951) Maternal Care and Mental Health. World Health Organization Monograph. Boydell Brauner, C. and Bowers Stephens, C. (2006) ‘Estimating the prevalence of early childhood serious emotional/behavioral disorders: Challenges and recommendations’. Public Health Review 121(3): 303–10. Bradshaw, P. and Tipping, S. (2010) Growing Up In Scotland: Children’s Social, Emotional and Behavioural Characteristics at Entry to Primary School, www.scotland.gov.uk/Publications/2010/04/26102809/0 (accessed November 2011). Bronfenbrenner, U. (1979) The Ecology of Human Development: Experiments by Nature and Design. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Campbell, S.B., Shaw, D.S. and Gilliom, M. (2000) ‘Early externalising behaviour problems: Toddlers and pre-schoolers at risk for later maladjustment’. Development and Psychopathology 12: 467–88. Currie, J. and Stabile, M. (2007) Mental Health in Childhood and Human Capital. National Bureau of Economic Research Working Paper Series, www.nber.org (accessed May 2011). DCSF (2008) The Education of Children and Young People with Behavioural, Emotional and Social Difficulties as a Special Educational Need. London: DCSF Publications. 152

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——(2009) DCSF: Children with Special Educational Needs 2009: An analysis. London: DCSF Publications. DfES (2001) Special Educational Needs Code of Practice. London: DfES Publications. ——(2004) Every Child Matters: Change for Children. London: DfES Publications. ——(2005) New Beginnings The National Strategies Early Years Excellence and Enjoyment: Social and Emotional Aspects of Learning (Revised Early Years Foundation Stage Version). London: DfES. Dyson, A. and Millward, A. (2000) Schools and Special Needs: Issues of Innovation and Inclusion. London: Paul Chapman. Egger, H.L. and Angold, A. (2006) ‘Common emotional and behavioral disorders in preschool children: presentation, nosology, and epidemiology’. Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry 47(3/4): 313–37. Emerson, E. and Einfeld, S. (2010) ‘Emotional and behavioural difficulties in young children with and without developmental delay: a bi-national perspective’. Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry 51(5), May: 583–93. Emerson, E. and Hatton, C. (2007) ‘The mental health of children and adolescents with intellectual disabilities in Britain’. British Journal of Psychiatry 191: 493–9. Fitzgerald, D. (2004) Parent Partnership in the Early Years. London: Continuum. Gerhardt, S. (2004) Why Love Matters: How Affection Shapes a Baby’s Brain. London: Routledge. Ghate, D. and Hazel, N. (2004) Parenting in Poor Environments: Stress, Support and Coping. London: Policy Research Bureau. Goodman, R. (1997) ‘The strengths and difficulties questionnaire: A research note’. Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry 38(5): 581–86. Greenberg, M., Domitrovich, C. and Bumbarger, B. (2000) Preventing Mental Disorders in School Age Children: A Review of the Effectiveness of Prevention Programs. Harrisburg, PA: Pennsylvania CASSP Training and Technical Assistance Institute. Humphrey, N., Kalambouka, A., Bolton, J., Lendrum, A., Wigelsworth, M., Lennie, C. and Farrell, P. (2008) Primary Social and Emotional Aspects of Learning (SEAL) Evaluation of Small Group Work (University of Manchester). London: DfES Publications. Johnson-Powell, G. and Yamamoto, J. (eds) (1997) Transcultural Child Development: Psychological Assessment and Treatment. New York: Wiley. Kiernan, K.E. and Mensah, F.K. (2009) ‘Poverty, Maternal Depression, Family Status and Children’s Cognitive and Behavioural Development in Early Childhood—a longitudinal study’. Journal of Social Policy 38(4): 569–88. Lindsay, G., Pather, S. and Strand, S. (2006) Special Educational Needs and Ethnicity: Issues of Over-Representation and Under-Representation. DfES Research Report 757, www.dcsf.gov.uk/research/data/uploadfiles/ RR757.pdf (accessed May 2011). Lowenhoff, C. (2004) ‘Emotional and behavioural problems in children: the benefits of training professionals in primary care to identify relationships at risk’. Work-Based Learning in Primary Care 2: 8–25. Marshall, T. and Ramchandani, P. (2008) ‘Emotional disorders in children and adolescents’. Medicine 36(9): 478–81. Maxwell, C., Aggleton, P., Warwick, I., Yankah, E., Hill, V. and Mehmedbegovic, D. (2008) ‘Supporting children’s emotional wellbeing and mental health in England: A review’. Health Education 108(4): 272–86. NSCDC (National Scientific Council on the Developing Child) (2008) Mental Health Problems in Early Childhood Can Impair Learning and Behavior for Life: Working Paper No. 6, www.developingchild.harvard.edu (accessed May 2011). Roberts, H. (2000) What Works in Reducing Inequalities in Child Health. Edinburgh: Barnardos. Scottish Government (2008) Early Years Framework. Edinburgh: Scottish Government. Shucksmith, J., Summerbell, C., Jones, S. and Whittaker, V. (2007) Mental Wellbeing of Children in Primary Education (Targeted/Indicated Activities). Teesside: University of Teesside. Sure Start (2006) Rationale for Sure Start Targets, www.bbk.ac.uk/ness/support/local-evaluation-findings/ documents/1228.pdf. Tickell, C. (2011) The Early Years: Foundations for Life, Health and Learning: An Independent Report on the Early Years Foundation Stage to Her Majesty’s Government. Washbrook, E. (2010) A Cross-cohort Comparison of Childhood Behaviour Problems. London: The Sutton Trust. Weare, K. and Gray, G. (2003) What Works in Developing Children’s Emotional and Social Competence and Well-being? Research Report RR456. Nottingham: DfES Publications. Webster-Stratton, C. (2011) The Incredible Years Parents, Teachers, and Children Training Series: Program Content, Methods, Research and Dissemination, 1980–2011. Willoughby, M., Kupersmidt, J. and Bryant, D. (2001) ‘Overt and covert dimensions of antisocial behavior in early childhood’. Journal of Abnormal Child Psychology 29: 177–87. 153

17 Links between emotional and behavioral difficulties and speech and language difficulties What every teacher should know Jodi Tommerdahl

For the introduction to this chapter about connections between emotional and behavioral difficulties (EBD) and speech and language difficulties (SLD), it is first necessary to define SLD. SLD is a general term that can refer to any type of communication problem that affects either our internal processing of language or our physical ability to comprehend and/or express language. These problems can stem from a variety of causes including neurological impairment, physical deformity (as in the case of cleftpalate), associated learning difficulties, or unknown reasons. A subcategory of SLD called specific language impairment (SLI) is especially of interest due to its unique ability to go undetected. SLI is defined as the failure to acquire one’s first language in the same manner and at a similar rate to typically developing peers. It is sometimes referred to as developmental dysphasia and its diagnosis is usually carried out through the administration of normed language tests. Importantly, it is defined as being unrelated to any known difficulties such as those listed above. Furthermore, to be diagnosed with SLI, a person must have an IQ in the range of normal, usually meaning 85 or above. However, the criterion of the normal IQ has been challenged (Botting 2005; Guendouzi 2003; Krassowski and Plante 1997; Tommerdahl and Drew 2008). The fact that SLI can exist in an otherwise normal child with a normal intelligence quotient (IQ) can make it particularly difficult to recognize. This is in part true because symptoms can be relatively subtle, especially if masked by behaviors such as shyness, withdrawal or aggression. Speech and language difficulties, a phenomenon that can hinder communication and learning, affect a large number of school-age children. It is estimated that approximately 7 per cent of all children at some point suffer from some form of these difficulties, with boys being affected at a much higher rate than girls (Leonard 2000). It has long been recognized that a degree of comorbidity between SLD and social, emotional and behavioral difficulties exists (Beitchman et al. 1996; Beitchman et al. 2001; Lindsay and Dockrell 2000). The demonstrated co-existence of EBD alongside SLI, added to the relative difficulty of SLI identification, naturally leads the ‘EBD practitioner’ to ask the question of how prevalent SLD might be in their own settings. Some research in the area exists. One study of 20 boys aged 10–13 154

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in residential treatment for antisocial behavior showed that 80 per cent had language disorders that had not been previously diagnosed (Warr-Leeper et al. 1994). Another study of 17 children aged 6–12 in a unit for children with moderate emotional and behavioral problems showed that 16 of them presented with speech and/or language problems serious enough to require speech and language intervention (Burgess and Bransby 1990). Bryan et al. (2007) looks at the language skills of 58 juvenile offenders aged 15–17 and finds that none of them reached their age equivalence on the standardized test. Benner et al.’s (2002) systematic review of 26 studies examining this question determined that overall, 71 per cent of children identified with emotional and behavioral disorders were found to experience clinically significant language deficits.

What do we know about the causes of SLI? Speech and language difficulties are not normally diagnosed before children are recognized as being late talkers or displaying some other sort of language-based difficulty, often in the early years of school. However, research in the neurosciences, particularly studies using EEG to record brainwaves, shows that precursors of later symptoms are detectable from the very first months of life (Friederich et al. 2004; Weber et al. 2004). These studies point to auditory processing problems existing from the very first months of life. Furthermore, the fact that SLI can run in families and the knowledge that boys are much more often affected than girls provide evidence for the underlying biological nature of the impairment.

Does SLI cause EBD? It has been long established that connections, either direct or indirect, between SLD and EBD exist. Although the direction of causality is most commonly assumed to move from core language problems to the plane of social and emotional development due to difficulty in communicating, other possibilities exist. It has been proposed that early psychiatric difficulties leading to poor behavior can limit the amount of interaction carried out between parent and child, which could in turn limit the child’s experience of language (Rutter and Lord 1987). Alternatively, it is possible that some underlying core activities necessary for language processing also serve systems necessary for behavior and other higher-level systems (Cardy et al. 2010).

Important terms For teachers and support staff to look for signs of speech and language difficulties in their pupils, it is necessary to have a frame of reference for looking at language structure and, in turn, at the types of difficulties that can exist. First, basic dichotomies regularly used in the field are presented.

Production versus reception Language is both produced and received. As babies, until we utter our first words we are unable to produce language, but are able to understand several words. Each level of language that will be presented later can be looked at either from a production or reception perspective.

Speech versus language Language refers to a system of rules about language sounds, word meanings and grammar that people apply in order to communicate. For example, all native English speakers know how to 155

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create plural forms of words. Speech, on the other hand, is what we use to express language. It involves accessing motor patterns and controlling the parts of the body such as the lips and tongue that allow us to speak. Language is an internal system whereas speech can be perceived by other people. Although a child can have both speech and language difficulties simultaneously, a reasonably clear distinction can be made between the two terms.

Five parts of language To have an idea of what language impairment is and how to look for it, it is useful to have an understanding of the different areas of language processing. This is important because each system, and sometimes more than, can be affected by language impairment. Therefore, a brief description of five systems follows:

Phonology Phonology is concerned with sounds used in a given language. Each language has its own system of subconscious rules that indicate which sound combinations carry meaning. These rules include information about sounds in relation to positions within words. For example, we know that the sound combination /nb/ is not appropriate for starting a word in English but that /pl/ is. Other phonological rules cover the area of prosody, such as intonation, which can make the difference between whether a sentence such as ‘You’re going tonight’ is understood as a statement or a question. Phonological perception is an important topic in the examination of causes of speech and language difficulties. Troubles related to phonological processing have been put forward as causes of both dyslexia (Fletcher et al. 1994; Gillon 2004) and SLI (Briscoe et al. 2001; Nathan et al. 2004).

Semantics Semantics is the area of language most closely related to meaning, often at the level of the word and of the denotative sentence. At the level of the word, semantics is related not only to the meanings of individual words, but also to relationships between words. Imagine the case where you hear the spoken sentence, ‘I need to buy ketchup’. Not only will your semantic knowledge access your mental lexicon to provide you with the meaning of each word, but your further semantic networks which connect a variety of associated words will also be engaged. For example, as you process the word ‘ketchup’, other related words such as ‘mustard’, ‘relish’ and ‘sauce’ will also become more accessible to you because they are in a mental network related to ketchup (Meyer and Schvaneveldt 1971). Knowledge of the relationship between words is vital to our understanding of individual word meaning. We can ask ourselves the question of to what degree ‘hot’ can be understood if we have little or no knowledge of ‘cool’, ‘warm’ or ‘cold’.

Morphology Morphology deals with morphemes, the smallest units of meaning in language. Single words are often identical with single morphemes. For example, the word ‘window’ is a single morpheme, but the word ‘windows’ is two. The second is the morpheme ‘s’ indicating the plural form. Not all morphemes can exist independently. Those that can are called ‘free’ morphemes, while those that cannot are known as ‘bound’ morphemes. Some of the most common bound morphemes in 156

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English are the present participle (talking), the past tense (talked), the past participle (has talked), third person singular (she talks), the plural (windows) and the genitive (sister’s). Morphology has been under particular scrutiny in recent years as it is suspected that difficulties in this area may be indicative of SLI (Rice et al. 1995; Ullman and Gopnik 1999).

Syntax Syntax (also sometimes referred to as grammar) organizes words at the sentence level. Syntax is a system of mental rules that tells us that there is a difference in meaning between ‘The dog bit the man’ and ‘The man bit the dog’, despite the fact that both sentences use the same words. Syntax divides words and phrases into categories such as ‘nouns’, ‘verbs’, ‘noun phrases’, and ‘subjects’, depending upon their role and position in the sentence. In the example above, the placement of ‘the dog’ at the beginning of the sentence and ‘the man’ after the verb help to transmit the notion that the former is the subject and the latter is the object. What is not meant by syntax or grammar here is a prescriptive notion of grammar that tells people how they should structure a sentence, such as not using the word ‘ain’t’ or not splitting an infinitive. Instead, the linguistic field of syntax focuses on using word order to create meaningful sentences.

Pragmatics Much like semantics, pragmatics is an area of language study related to meaning, but unlike semantics, pragmatics constructs meaning by taking into account the various contexts in which sentences are uttered. Normally, upon hearing an utterance, the listener pays attention not only to the actual words that are uttered, but also to their knowledge of who the speaker is, the speaker’s intent and audience, the relationship between the speaker and listener, and the many social, situational and physical contexts that surround both. Our pragmatic skills allow us to understand more about a sentence than its denotation. It allows us to glean further information that is implied by the language used.

Interconnections The linguistic view breaks language down into subsystems which are each an area of study in their own right. However, this view also recognizes the interdependence of all of these systems that allow us to create and comprehend language. Speech and language difficulties may or may not be limited to a single level of a child’s linguistic performance. This could be due to different levels being primarily affected or it could be caused by a knock-on effect whereby one primary difficulty leads to more secondary difficulties; for example, a difficulty that originates at the level of morphology, possibly in the use of verb endings, could lead to pragmatic difficulties as temporal contexts might not be used to decode language. For this reason, it is necessary to examine the child’s linguistic behavior at each and every level in addition to having a global perspective of the child’s communication skills.

Practical advice for the classroom Detection It was mentioned earlier that linguistic performance can be widely broken down into two main areas, language production and language comprehension. The most useful classroom tool in 157

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evaluating production is observation. As language is an extremely complex and quickly moving event, it is ideal to record a pupil’s language in various settings and with a range of conversational partners. A sample of 10 to 30 minutes in total, depending upon the amount of language produced by the pupil, would be a reasonable amount to allow the teacher or teaching team to develop preliminary ideas on what linguistic strengths and weaknesses the pupil might have, particularly when used in conjunction with other language assessments such as checklists. Although audio or video recording is highly desirable, a written transcript of classroom language may also be used. It is preferable to transcribe the recordings, paying particular attention to details such as pronunciation, word endings and sentence structure. While listening to the recording, it is advisable for a single teacher to listen to and read the transcription of the sample several times, paying particular attention to a single level of language each time, making notes of possible difficulties. Alternatively, with a larger teaching team different members could each focus on a separate level. Notes made by the teaching team could then be shared with a speech and language therapist if deemed necessary, or kept on file for comparison with a later repetition of the same exercise. Language comprehension, being a relatively hidden domain, cannot easily be assessed through pure observation. Instead, teachers need to take a more creative approach in devising activities that test comprehension at various levels. A child may be observed as having normal phonology, but still be found to have a degree of phonological difficulty in comprehension. A teacher could design an activity that tested the child’s ability to distinguish between single sounds by showing pictures of objects the names of which vary only slightly between them, possibly a bead, a beet, a beam and a beak. The teacher or another pupil would read out one of the words while the child being monitored would point at the appropriate picture. This activity could be further developed to include a variety of sounds at different places in words. The areas of morphology and syntax could be examined in several ways, for example a timeline could be presented and discussed, showing that different parts of the timeline represent the past, present and future. Sentences with different verb tenses could be presented to the child who is in turn asked to indicate where on the timeline the action happened. Activities could also be devised for any type of grammatical judgment where series of sentences are presented, some with morphological or syntactic errors where the pupil is asked to say whether each given sentence is correct or incorrect, and to explain why it is incorrect if this judgment is made. Semantics can be probed by designing activities that question the relationships between words. The teacher could use a word board, where an initial concept such as ‘tea’ is written in the middle and represented also by a picture of a cup of tea. The student could then be asked to find other words that link to tea and to add them to the board. The teacher could then probe the student’s knowledge of links to similar words such as ‘coffee’, to describing words and phrases such as ‘hot’ and ‘sweet’ or ‘with milk’. Similarly, pragmatic abilities could be examined in several different forms given the wide range of topics that this field covers. In working with politeness, various dialogues could be presented and the child could be asked which one was a man speaking to his daughter and which one was a man speaking to his boss. Inference could be judged by asking questions during the reading of stories or while stopping movies at crucial points to ask why certain things happened or whether certain things are likely to happen. Premade checklists designed for teachers’ use can also be very useful. One example is the AFASIC (1991) checklist, which looks at several areas of language including vocabulary, grammar and overall communication for children from 4–10 years of age. Other assessments, such as the Children’s Communication Checklist (Bishop 1998) deal with more specific areas of language, in this case pragmatics. 158

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Support Once the teacher has carried out an informal evaluation of a child’s language and suspects the existence of a language impairment, the child should be referred to a speech and language therapist/ pathologist for further investigation. If the child is diagnosed with a speech and language difficulty, several paths of support should then be put into action throughout the school. For a fuller description of the types of support that can be arranged, see Kersner and Wright 1996; Dockrell and Messer 1999; Martin and Miller 2003; Speake 2003; and Tommerdahl 2009.

Conclusion Research has consistently shown a high degree of speech and language difficulties to exist amongst the SEBD (social, emotional and behavioral difficulties) population. It is likely that the majority of these difficulties are going unrecognized for several reasons, including the hidden nature of these difficulties, the lack of training available to teachers in the field of language impairment, and the fact that emotional and behavioral problems experienced by pupils are likely to take priority in a school’s planning. It is feasible that some of these emotional and behavioral difficulties experienced by children could be ameliorated through recognizing possible speech and language difficulties and treating them. It is hoped that as pupils’ language improves, so will their access to learning, as well as to classroom and other social interactions. Considering the extremely important role of the classroom teacher in the overall well-being of a child, it is recommended that teaching professionals be provided with relevant information about observational techniques that can help to identify speech and language difficulties. This is especially important in any setting designed for children with emotional and behavioral difficulties. In keeping with this goal, this chapter has presented an introduction to language structure to improve teachers’ theoretical knowledge as well as several activities to help teachers to evaluate their students’ linguistic ability. It is hoped that these tools will lead to the detection of more language difficulties, which will in turn lead to specific support for children in this special group.

References AFASIC (1991) AFASIC checklists. Wisbech, Cambridge: LDA. Beitchman, J., Wilson, B., Brownlie, E., Walters, H., Inglis, A. and Lancee, W. (1996) ‘Long-term consistency in speech/language profiles: II: behavioral, emotional, and social outcomes’. Journal of the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry 35(6): 815–25. Beitchman, J.H., Wilson, B.B., Johnson, C.J., Atkinson, L., Young, A., Adlaf, E., Escobar, M. and Douglas, L. (2001) ‘Fourteen-year follow-up of speech/language-impaired and control children: Psychiatric outcome’. Journal of the American Academy of Child & Adolescent Psychiatry 40(1): 75–82. Benner, G.J., Nelson, J.R. and Epstein, M.H. (2002) ‘The language skills of students with EBD: A literature review’. Journal of Emotional and Behavioral Disorders 10: 43–56. Bishop, D.V.M. (1998) ‘Development of the Children’s Communication Checklist (CCC): A method for assessing qualitative aspects of communicative impairment in children’. Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry 39(6): 879–91. Botting, N. (2005) ‘Non-verbal cognitive development and language impairment’. Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry 46(3): 317–26. Briscoe, J., Bishop, D.V.M. and Norbury, C.F. (2001) ‘Phonological processing, language, and literacy: A comparison of children with mild-to-moderate sensorineural hearing loss and those with specific language impairment’. Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry 42(3): 329–40. Bryan, K., Freer, J. and Furlong, C. (2007) ‘Language and communication difficulties in juvenile offenders’. Journal of Speech, Language, and Hearing Research 42(5): 505–20.

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Burgess, J. and Bransby, G. (1990) ‘An evaluation of the speech and language skills of children with emotional and behavioural problems’. Bulletin of the College of Speech Therapists 453: 2–3. Cardy, J., Tannock, R., Johnson, A. and Johnson, C. (2010) ‘The contribution of processing impairments to SLI: Insights from attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder’. Journal of Communication Disorders 43(2): 77–91. Dockrell, J. and Messer, D. (1999) Children’s Language and Communication Difficulties: Understanding, Identification and Intervention. London: Cassell. Fletcher, J.M., Shaywitz, S.E., Shankweiler, D.P., Katz, L., Liberman, I.Y., Stuebing, K.K., Francis, D.J., Fowler, A.E. and Shaywitz, B.A. (1994) ‘Cognitive profiles of reading disability: Comparisons of discrepancy and low achievement definitions’. Journal of Educational Psychology 8: 6–23. Friedrich, M., Weber, C. and Friederici, A. (2004) ‘Electrophysiological evidence for delayed mismatch response in infants at-risk for specific language impairment’. Psychophysiology 41(5): 772–82. Gillon, G.T. (2004) Phonological Awareness: From Research to Practice. New York: Guilford Press. Guendouzi, J. (2003) ‘“SLI”, a generic category of language impairment that emerges from specific differences: A case study of two individual linguistic profiles’. Clinical Linguistics & Phonetics 17(2): 135–52. Kersner, M. and Wright, J. (1996) How to Manage Communication Problems in Young Children, 2nd edn. London: David Fulton Publishers. Krassowski, E. and Plante, E. (1997) ‘IQ variability in children with SLI: Implications for use of cognitive referencing in determining SLI’. Journal of Communication Disorders 30(1): 1–9. Leonard, L.B. (2000) Children with Specific Language Impairment. Cambridge: MIT Press. Lindsay, G. and Dockrell, J. (2000) ‘The behaviour and self-esteem of children with specific speech and language difficulties’. British Journal of Educational Psychology 70: 583–601. Martin, D. and Miller, C. (2003) Speech and Language Difficulties in the Classroom. London: David Fulton Publishers. Meyer, D.E. and Schvaneveldt, R.W. (1971) ‘Facilitation in recognizing pairs of words: Evidence of a dependence between retrieval operations’. Journal of Experimental Psychology 90: 227–34. Nathan, L., Stackhouse, J., Goulandris, N. and Snowling, M.J. (2004) ‘The development of early literacy skills among children with speech difficulties: A test of the “Critical Age Hypothesis”’. Journal of Speech, Language, and Hearing Research 47: 377–91. Rice, M., Wexler, K. and Cleave, P. (1995) ‘Specific language impairment as a period of extended optional infinitive’. Journal of Speech and Hearing Research 38: 850–63. Rutter, M. and Lord, C. (1987) ‘Language disorders associated with psychiatric disturbance’. In W. Yule and M. Rutter (eds), Language Development and Disorders. Oxford: McKeith Press, 206–33. Speake, J. (2003) How to Identify and Support Children with Speech and Language Difficulties. Cambridge: LDA. Tommerdahl, J. (2009) ‘What teachers of students with SEBD need to know about speech and language difficulties’. Emotional & Behavioural Difficulties 14(1): 19–31. Tommerdahl, J. and Drew, M. (2008) ‘Difficulty in SLI diagnosis: A case study of identical twins’. Clinical Linguistics & Phonetics 25(5): 275–82. Ullman, M. and Gopnik, M. (1999) ‘Inflectional morphology in a family with inherited specific language impairment’. Applied Psycholinguistics 20: 51–117. Warr-Leeper, G., Wright, N.A. and Mack, A. (1994) ‘Language disabilities of antisocial boys in residential treatment’. Behavioral Disorders 19(3): 159–69. Weber, C., Hahne, A., Friedrich, M. and Friederici, A. (2004) ‘Discrimination of word stress in early infant perception: electrophysiological evidence’. Cognitive Brain Research 18(2): 149–61.

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18 The challenge of assessing and monitoring the progress of children with SEBD A British perspective Jane McSherry

This chapter focuses on the importance of assessing and monitoring pupils’ social, emotional and behavioural skills and, in the limited space available, looks at three instruments commonly used in the writer’s own country. The components of these tools are described and while these were designed with British children in mind, are likely to have relevance to readers abroad and to overlap with instruments available in their own countries. First, however, it is necessary to mention a few caveats relevant to assessment and monitoring. It is important to assess social, emotional and behavioural difficulties (SEBD) accurately and to recognise factors that may affect such assessment, including:  Clarity about what SEBD is or means to the assessor and colleagues (see chapters in early sections of this Companion).  The purpose of the assessment:  Is it to determine the best interventions in the child’s present educational setting, e.g. social skills needed, mental health issues or educational approaches to use?  Is it to determine in what kind of school/unit/class the child would be best placed?  Is it to help include or perhaps even exclude the child in or from his or her school?  Who is undertaking the assessment and the influence of perspective, style and skills on the assessment. For example, are judgements over time from different teachers comparable? What is the impact of a teacher’s experience on their views of the child’s behaviour, i.e. a newly qualified teacher versus a highly experienced practitioner? Teachers’ values and attitudes will also affect how they view behaviour and how they personally deal with it, as will their theoretical perspective, for example, whether they underpin practice with a cognitive behavioural approach or a more traditional behaviourist model. We also need to consider both the recent experiences of the child and assessor, i.e. the day the assessment is completed versus the long-term objectivity of the assessment, especially if it potentially has significant consequences for the child’s placement or diagnosis. 161

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 Who is allowed to use the assessment tool, for example some of the best validated, reliable tools are restricted to use by trained educational psychologists or medical staff (i.e. Conners Rating Scales (Conners 1998) or Achenbach’s Child Behaviour Checklist (Achenbach and Edelbrock 1983), tools often used in the diagnosis of conditions such as attention deficit/ hyperactivity disorder—ADHD). If the assessment required is in relation to strategies to use within the classroom, these staff may have very little practical experience of working with this child or seeing the variations in behaviour, and the outcomes of the assessment may not offer the strategies required.  Time taken to complete baseline assessment and follow-up monitoring assessments; the time needed to complete an assessment is an important consideration often used by professionals when choosing which tool to use. It is not always the case that the quickest tool to use is the best, but if a tool is accessible and comprehensive in its applicability it will be a popular choice.  Consideration of the effect of the assessment and its possible outcomes on the child and the parents, including the impact on future relationships between staff, child and parents. For example, if an assessment gives evidence that the quality of early parenting was poor, this may potentially damage future intervention with the parent. It may also be the case that if the staff’s perception is that the needs of the child should be at a certain threshold to get support, they potentially exaggerate the child’s difficulties to ensure access to that support.  Recognition that assessment is not a neutral act. Both the person being assessed and the assessor will ‘experience’ the process (Earl and Giles 2011) and it is important, therefore, that it is carefully planned. Having recognised the factors potentially affecting assessment, it is essential to have a clear baseline from which to set effective targets and later to monitor progress. Many professionals are still resistant to the idea of using the same robust, clear level of base-lining in relation to pupils with SEBD. Yet without this information it is difficult to make evidence-based choices on the most appropriate intervention or to monitor the progress of pupils accessing the intervention. An assessment can confirm or contradict either or both the assessed and the assessor’s views of the situation and the consequence of these possibilities needs to be considered when planning for the process to be undertaken. A baseline assessment should highlight strengths as well as weaknesses and this can be a positive reframing for both pupils and teachers. For example, for many pupils the dimension of peer relations is the most crucial and the most difficult for them and they may need support and help with developing the skills involved in the effective building of relationships. The same pupil, however, may be more adept at managing adult relationships and some of the skills they use in this area could be developed and transferred. The other advantage of undertaking an assessment of the current situation is that it helps to put the behaviours causing concern into a framework where the plan for intervention or support is made manageable and evidence is gathered to inform the most appropriate approach to use.

The importance of context It is important to choose an assessment tool that enables staff to measure progress in the pupil’s specific context. Consideration needs to be given to whole-school ethos and practice as well as the classroom environment to highlight the link between emotional well-being and learning, and to enable teachers and other professionals to recognise the impact of the environment in which children and young people are expected to ‘cope’ on their skills development. Many authors stress the importance of a whole-school approach to achieving effective assessment, provision and 162

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evaluation of practice for pupils with SEBD (Cooper et al. 2000; Daniels et al. 1999; McSherry 2001; McSherry 2004).

The right tool for the task The purpose of any effective assessment is to assist with the planning and monitoring of interventions designed to improve outcomes. It is therefore important to recognise any underlying assumptions upon which the assessment is based and what the planned programme following on from the assessment will be. The baseline assessment used will both be shaped by the theoretical position taken on the drivers of behaviour and also in turn shape the nature of the interventions thought appropriate, i.e. whether the assessor comes from a behaviourist, psychodynamic, cognitive behaviourist or ecosystemic standpoint (see Section II of this volume). Understanding the underlying theoretical position will enable practitioners to make an informed choice about the most appropriate tool to use.

Categories of assessment tools/scales Conducting her own research which led to the development of the Re-integration Readiness Scale (RRS) (McSherry 1996) and later the Coping in Schools Scale (McSherry 2001), the writer undertook a survey of existing behaviour rating scales, e.g. Bristol Social Adjustment Guides (Stott 1974), Child Behaviour Checklist (Achenbach and Edelbrock 1983), Child Behaviour Questionnaire (Rutter 1967) and the Porteous Problem Checklist (Porteous 1985). The scales fell into general categories:  broad scales that were used to diagnose behaviour problems;  systems for behaviour management that started with checklists to identify problem areas; and  a group of scales that looked at one specific aspect of behaviour such as self-control, self-esteem or social adaptation. The scales reviewed did have one thing in common: they focused almost exclusively on the diagnosis of problems. When developing the RRS the aim was to devise an accessible and easyto-use tool for teachers, school support staff and pupils to assess a child’s readiness to reintegrate from a specialist setting to a regular classroom in a mainstream school. The RRS therefore measured positive behaviours needed to succeed in a mainstream educational setting. A large-scale review of assessment tools for use with children in early years and primary schools was commissioned by the Department for Education and Skills in 2002. The authors found that although early instruments focused on antisocial behaviour (as highlighted above), these evolved into instruments that incorporated the more positive aspects of social competence and were applicable in school settings (Edmunds and Stewart-Brown 2003). To allow readers to consider various approaches to assessment and intervention in different contexts, the chapter will now examine the applications of three British assessment tools (although reference is made to others) used for different purposes. The Strengths and Difficulties Questionnaire (SDQ) (Goodman 1997) has been chosen as a common tool that teachers may complete prior to referring a child to another, more specialist service. The Boxall Profile (Bennathan and Boxall 1998) is an instrument mainly used with primary-aged pupils (5-11), although there is now a variant for pupils in secondary school nurture groups (Colley 2009; Garner and Thomas 2011). Third, the Coping in Schools Scale (McSherry 2001) is an example of a tool for secondaryaged pupils (11-16), but is also used to guide a pupil’s transition from primary to secondary school and is sometimes employed with primary-aged pupils. 163

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The Strengths and Difficulties Questionnaire (SDQ) The Strengths and Difficulties Questionnaire (SDQ) (Goodman 1997) is a brief behavioural screening questionnaire which can be used with children and young people of 3-16 years old. There are several versions of the questionnaire, which is available free on the internet, to meet the needs of researchers, clinicians and educationalists. This tool has been used as a baseline tool (usually in conjunction with others) in a variety of research projects, for example the impact of practicebased group parenting programmes (Stewart-Brown et al. 2004); enhancing adoptive parenting (Rushton and Monck 2009); and interventions involving yoga and relaxation with primary-aged pupils with emotional and behavioural difficulties (EBD) (Powell et al. 2008). All versions of the SDQ ask questions in relation to 25 attributes, some of which are positive and others negative. The 25 items are divided between five scales:     

emotional symptoms (five items) conduct problems (five items) hyperactivity/inattention (five items) peer relationship problems (five items) prosocial behaviour (five items)

There were a number of studies (Goodman 1997; Goodman and Scott 1999) conducted to compare the SDQ with other tools, for example the Child Behaviour Checklist (CBCL) (Achenbach and Edelbrock 1983) and Rutter Questionnaires (Rutter 1967). These studies found that the SDQ had a high correlation with both of the comparative assessment tools but indicated that when compared with the Rutter Questionnaires the SDQ was better able to a focus on strengths as well as difficulties; had better coverage of inattention, peer relationships and prosocial behaviour; a shorter format; and a single form suitable for both parents and teachers, perhaps thereby increasing parentteacher correlations. When compared with the CBCL, the SDQ was significantly better at detecting inattention and hyperactivity, and at least as good at detecting internalising and externalising problems. In addition, mothers of low-risk children were twice as likely to prefer the SDQ. In many child and adolescent mental health clinics the SDQ is part of the initial examination of the young person’s needs. Parents, teachers and young people (over the age of 11) complete the questionnaire prior to the first clinical assessment. The findings can influence how the rest of the assessment is carried out and which professionals from a multi-agency specialist Child and Adolescent Mental Health Service (CAMHS) team are involved in that process. In the UK, the SDQ is more widely used in clinical settings than by teachers in schools, unless educationalists, particularly those working with pupils with SEBD, are contributing to an initial assessment for a child referred to a community CAMHS. One study found that teachers’ ratings generally indicated less severe problems than the parents indicated. Teachers rated 60 per cent of the children in the moderate to severe range and 61 per cent had an impact score in the abnormal range, compared with parent ratings that 85 per cent of children and adolescents referred exhibited moderate to severe behavioural/emotional problems and 82 per cent had an SDQ impact score in the abnormal range (Mathai et al. 2002).

The Boxall Profile The Boxall Profile (Bennathan and Boxall 1998) was developed in partnership with teachers and support staff working in nurture groups and is an integral part of the development of nurture group work. Nurture groups were ‘for children already in the school who were showing signs of 164

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severely deprived early childhoods, unable to learn because of extreme withdrawal or disruptiveness’ (Bennathan and Boxall 2000; see also Cooper and Whitebread 2007; Chapter 29, this volume). The Boxall Profile developed from the nurture group approach and was designed and standardised to be used with pupils aged 3-8 (although it has been used with a larger age range). The Profile provides a means of assessing the areas of difficulty of children to enable teachers to plan focused intervention. It enables teachers to understand behaviour and to see how it relates to impairment in early development. The profile is in two sections, each consisting of 34 descriptive items. Section I, ‘developmental strands’ describes the different aspects of the developmental process of the earliest years; satisfactory completion of this first stage of learning is essential if the young person is to make good use of their educational opportunities. The descriptors fall into two broad clusters: ‘organisation of experience’ and ‘internalisation of controls’. Section II, the ‘diagnostic profile’, consists of items describing behaviours that inhibit or interfere with the young person’s satisfactory involvement in school. They are directly or indirectly the outcome of impaired learning in the earliest years. The items fall into three clusters: ‘self limiting features’, ‘undeveloped behaviour’ and ‘unsupported development’. A high score on Section I indicates satisfactory development: children needing nurture group or other special help have low scores. On the diagnostic profile, high scores are a sign that the child has problems. The diagnostic profile consists of items describing behaviours that inhibit or interfere with the child’s satisfactory involvement in school. They are directly or indirectly the outcome of impaired learning in the earliest years. This section has three clusters:  Self-limiting features, e.g. ‘avoids, rejects or becomes upset when faced with new and unfamiliar task, or a difficult or competitive situation’;  Undeveloped behaviour, e.g. ‘restless or erratic; behaviour is without purposeful sequence, continuity or direction’; and  Unsupported development, e.g. ‘lacks trust in the adults’ intentions and is wary of what they might do; avoids contact and readily shows fear’. The Boxall Profile is often used as a precursor to a child accessing a nurture group or other intervention (e.g. support from teaching assistant or behaviour support teacher). The profile helps staff to identify which children need intervention that deals with more than the externalised behaviour and what lies behind the behaviour (e.g. what the child is trying to communicate) (Bennathan and Boxall 2000).

The Coping in Schools Scale The Re-integration Readiness Scale (RRS) (McSherry 1996) was devised with support from mainstream and special school teachers to identify readiness to reintegrate from specialist provision (special school) to a mainstream school. It sought to fill a gap in positive, applicable tools that measured behaviours needed for success in mainstream school settings. The RRS was part of a programme of preparation that involved assessment, preparation and support throughout the reintegration process. Following the success of the programmes in re-integrating pupils to mainstream schools, the instrument and programme were adapted for mainstream use with the aim of preventing exclusion of troublesome children from schools. The Coping in Schools Scale (CISS) McSherry (2001), which is adapted from the RRS, is therefore used as a structured assessment of pupils exhibiting challenging behaviour in mainstream schools. 165

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An important part of planning any intervention and support for pupils with EBD is to have as full a picture as possible, to take into account adult and pupil views, and to assess where things are working as well as where problems are being experienced. An important part of the principles underlying the use of both the RRS and the CISS is pupils rating themselves. There are a number of reasons for this:  it offers comparisons of teacher and pupil perceptions of behaviour;  it gives insight into where pupils perceive that problems lie;  it can indicate possible problems with self-concept, i.e. where pupils rate themselves much more harshly than teachers or do not acknowledge any areas of weakness; and  it is a first step in pupils taking responsibility for their own progress in managing behaviour. The original RRS was developed and tested in collaboration with both mainstream and special school teachers. Individual target behaviours were used to establish criteria for re-integration and these were in turn amalgamated under headings that linked them. Some of the headings reflected teachers’ suggestions and some reflected areas of importance noted in the research and behaviour scales reviewed, i.e. self-control, peer relations, work habits, etc. The purpose of the section headings is to focus the scorer’s mind on a particular facet of behaviour that gives the items their grouping. The RRS was evaluated as part of the research to ensure that the scale was discriminating sensitively between different groups of pupils and that each section was contributing to the overall effectiveness of the scale; this ensured the structural validity of the tool. The RRS and CISS are divided into eight sections (total score possible 284), as indicated below:        

Self-management of behaviour Self and others Self-confidence Self-organisation Attitude Learning skills Literacy skills Self-awareness

In order to develop an instrument that would work in practical terms in mainstream schools, two versions of the scale were developed: the full version (which was very similar to the RRS) and a shorter version. The full version of the CISS is designed for those with pastoral responsibility for the pupil (e.g. class teacher, head of year, tutor), who have a deeper knowledge of the pupil across a range of settings. The pupils themselves also complete the full version. The shorter version of the CISS is for subject teachers or those with a more academic knowledge of the pupils. The items within this version are related to classroom behaviour and do not therefore assume a knowledge of the pupils’ behaviour and coping skills in other settings, i.e. lunch hall, playground, trips, etc. The shorter version is divided into five sections (total score possible 152). Each section is produced in the form of a matrix, with specific questions for each section measured against four statements:  Is never able to fulfil this criterion  Rarely fulfils this criterion 166

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 More often than not fulfils this criterion  Almost always fulfils this criterion The scale is part of a process, as each section requires some form of action planning. Planning for change needs to take into account that behaviours exist within the context of the school and beyond and are the outcome of complex interactions between the pupil, school, family, community and wider society (Daniels and Williams 2000). The assessment is the first part of the process and is undertaken by both teachers and pupils. For planned changes to be effective the pupils must be involved in assessing their strengths and weaknesses, in planning their targets and in monitoring their progress. This action planning also involves the teacher in identifying how they will support the pupil in meeting their targets. This may require alterations in the teacher’s own behaviour. The process is based on a cognitive behavioural model of change (see Chapter 14, this volume) and uses group work as a method of support and intervention. The pupils are active participants and own the process, whereas under behavioural approaches where extrinsic reinforcers are applied they might not (see Chapter 13, this volume). Cognitive approaches encourage independence from external reinforcement, leading to changes in behaviour that are more transferrable and embedded (Ashman and Conway 1997). See Table 18.1. An implicit element of the cognitive behavioural approach is consideration of and allowance for an important concept, namely the pupil’s locus of control (Maines and Robinson 1988). Knight (1992: 164) explains: Students experiencing repeated failure have a lowered expectation of success, leading to underachievement and a belief that external factors control reinforcements. Any successes are likely to be attributed to external factors such as teacher help, luck, or an easy task. An expectancy of failure for different behaviours in different situations is created. Feelings of powerlessness are generated, leading to a generalised expectancy where reinforcements are viewed as being externally controlled and unrelated to personal behaviour. The experiences and attitudes of many children with SEBD seem to indicate an external locus of control. Maintaining this outlook on life could have a profound and far-reaching effect on their chances of successful re-integration, as it is essential that the pupil can assume responsibility for his or her own behaviour. An internal locus of control, where responsibility and control for change are felt to rest within the individual, assists communication, motivation to learn and the formation of positive relationships with others. The model used as part of the Coping in Schools programme encourages pupils to assess their own progress towards targets within a supportive peer group. The use of group work encourages reflection, builds peer support and develops peer relationships. For many pupils the dimension Table 18.1 Comparison of behavioural and cognitive approaches Traditional behavioural approach

Cognitive approach

Reinforcing responses Externally reinforced for desired behaviour

Reinforcing process Consistently encouraged to think of alternative solutions and the effectiveness of these solutions Seeks to teach students to become independent of external mediation

Seeks to teach generalisation and maintenance of behaviour

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of peer relations is the most crucial and the most difficult for them. They set personal targets based on their assessment of their current strengths and weaknesses and these are reviewed in a weekly group work session. The adult(s) facilitating the groups are trained to focus on reinforcing positive steps and encouraging pupils to reflect together on strategies for coping better when things have gone wrong. It is important for periodic reassessment on the CISS to happen so that staff and pupils can see progress being made even if this is slow and mainly in a single area. Changing long-standing patterns of behaviour and responses to situations does takes time. As with the Boxall Profile, a structured use of CISS encourages staff to reflect on the context in which pupils’ behaviour occurs and to understand what the young people are trying to communicate.

Summary A comprehensive and appropriate baseline assessment offers clear guidance about the most effective interventions for children and young people with behavioural difficulties. It is important to choose the right tool for the context in which the intervention will take place. A well-structured assessment can assist in encouraging staff to reflect on pupils’ strengths and areas for development and, given the systemic causation of behaviour, can also assist with reflection on staff members’ own behaviour and responses and their schools’ ethos and values. Clearer understanding of the contexts of behaviour can lead to affirming successes and developing more positive relationships. A reassessment post-intervention (or during the intervention if it is longer term) highlights where progress has been made and where further intervention might be needed. Despite the difficulties and dilemmas discussed at the start of the chapter, assessment is essential before planned intervention with children with SEBD. Three assessment tools widely used in the UK have been discussed and the contexts within which they are generally used. Practitioners or researchers choosing tools for assessing children with challenging behaviour or SEBD will find a range of instruments available, and choosing a well-established tool that highlights strengths as well as areas for development is essential when planning any intervention. Comprehensive assessment tools also offer opportunity to celebrate small successes on the way to broader improvement.

References Achenbach, T.M. and Edelbrock, C.S. (1983) Manual for the Child Behaviour Checklist and Revised Child Behaviour Profile. Burlington, VT: University of Vermont, Department of Psychiatry. Ashman, A.F. and Conway, R.N.F. (1997) An Introduction to Cognitive Education: Theory and Applications. London: Routledge. Bennathan, M. and Boxall, M. (1998) The Boxall Profile: A Handbook for Teachers. Maidstone: AWCEBD. —— (2000) Effective Interventions in Primary Schools: Nurture Groups, second edn. London: David Fulton Publishers. Colley, D. (2009) ‘Nurture groups in secondary schools’. Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 14(4): 291–300. Conners, C.K. (1998) ‘Rating scales in attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder: use in assessment and treatment monitoring’. Journal of Clinical Psychiatry 59 (Supplement 7): 24–30. Cooper, P., Drummond, M.J., Hart, S., Lovey, J. and McLaughlin, C. (2000) Positive Alternatives to Exclusion. London: David Fulton Publishers. Cooper, P. and Whitebread, D. (2007) ‘The effectiveness of nurture groups on student progress: Evidence from a national research study’. Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 12(3): 171–90. Daniels, H., Visser, J., Cole, T. and Reybekill, N. (1999) Emotional and Behavioral Difficulties in Mainstream Schools. Research Report No. 90. London: DfE. Daniels, A. and Williams, H. (2000) ‘Reducing the need for exclusions and statements for behaviour: The framework for intervention’. Educational Psychology in Practice 15(4): 228–36. Earl, K. and Giles, D. (2011) ‘Another look at assessment: Assessment in learning’. New Zealand Journal of Teachers’ Work 8(1): 11–20. 168

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Edmunds, L. and Stewart-Brown, S. (2003) Assessing Emotional and Social Competence in Primary School and Early Years Settings: A Review of Approaches, Issues and Instruments. SureStart Evidence and Research Series. London: DfES. Garner, J. and Thomas, M. (2011) ‘The role and contribution of Nurture Groups in secondary schools: perceptions of children, parents and staff’. Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 16(2): 207–24. Goodman, R. (1997) ‘The strengths and difficulties questionnaire: A research note’. Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry 38: 581–86. Goodman, R. and Scott, S. (1999) ‘Comparing the strengths and difficulties questionnaire and the child behavior checklist: Is small beautiful?’ Journal of Abnormal Child Psychology 27: 17–24. Knight, B.A. (1992) ‘The role of the student in mainstreaming’. Support for learning 7(4): 163–65. McSherry, J. (1996) A Re-integration Programme for Pupils with Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. London: SENJIT University of London Institute of Education. —— (2001) Challenging Behaviours in Mainstream Schools: Practical Strategies for Effective Intervention and Re-integration. London: David Fulton Publisher. —— (2004) Learning Support Units: Principles, Practice and Evaluation. London: David Fulton Publishers. Maines, B. and Robinson, G. (1988) B/G-STEEM: a Self-esteem Scale with Locus of Control Items. Bristol: Lame Duck Enterprises. Mathai, J., Anderson, P. and Bourne, A. (2002) ‘The Strengths and Difficulties Questionnaire (SDQ) as a screening measure prior to admission to a Child and Adolescent Mental Health Service (CAMHS)’. Australian e-Journal for the Advancement of Mental Health 1, Issue 3. Porteous, M.A. (1985) Porteous problem checklist: an inventory of adolescent problems. Windsor: NFER Nelson. Powell, L., Gilchrist, M. and Stapley, J. (2008) ‘A journey of self-discovery: an intervention involving massage, yoga and relaxation for children with emotional and behavioural difficulties attending primary schools’. Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 13(3): 193–9. Rushton, A. and Monck, E. (2009) Enhancing Adoptive Parenting: A Randomised Controlled Trial of Adoption Support. Research Brief. London: DCSF. Rutter, M. (1967) ‘A Children’s Behaviour Questionnaire for completion by teachers: Preliminary findings’. Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry 8: 1–11. Stewart-Brown, S., Patterson, J., Mockford, C., Barlow, J., Kilmes, I. and Pyper, C. (2004) ‘Impact of general practice based group parenting programme: quantitative and qualitative results from controlled trial at 12 months’. Archives Disease in Childhood 89: 519–25. Stott, D.H. (1974) Bristol Social Adjustment Guides Manual: The Social Adjustment of Children. London: Hodder and Stoughton.

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19 Impact of functional behavioral assessment on services for children and youth with emotional and behavioral difficulties Robert A. Gable, Lyndal M. Bullock and Mickie Wong-Lo

The use of functional behavioral assessment (FBA) to address the diverse needs of individuals with disabilities is a long-standing practice with strong empirical support. Rooted in the literature of applied behavior analysis, functional assessment is defined as ‘a process of identifying functional relationships between environmental events and the occurrence or non-occurrence of a target behavior’ (Dunlap et al. 1993: 275). The usefulness of FBA is predicated on three assumptions: (i) behavior is purposeful and serves a function for the student; (ii) behavior is linked to the context in which it occurs; and (iii) identification of the motivation behind the behavior facilitates the design of a function-based intervention (e.g. Reid and Nelson 2002). The goal of FBA is to collect data on those variables that account for the most variance in the behavior (its occurrence versus non-occurrence), variables that are controllable by persons in applied settings (schools), and variables that are unique to the individual (Gresham 1991; Reid and Nelson 2002). FBA is based on the notion of ‘conditional probability’. That is, knowledge of the conditions under which a behavior most often occurred in the past is useful for predicting when it will likely occur in the future (Gresham 1991). Across time, a substantial body of research founded primarily on persons with developmental disabilities has documented the efficacy of FBA in the clinical treatment of severe problem behavior including aggression, tantrums, self-injurious and stereotypic behavior (e.g. Goh and Bambara 2010).

Functional behavioral assessment in applied settings: clinic to classroom The Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA) (n.a. 1997) and the subsequent reauthorization of the Individuals with Disabilities Education Improvement Act (n.a. 2004) mandated that school personnel conduct an FBA and develop a behavioral intervention plan (BIP) under certain conditions. Schools’ legal obligation to conduct an FBA and develop a BIP is limited to instances when the behavior is determined to be a manifestation of the disability. However, schools are encouraged to respond proactively, for example, when a student’s behavior impedes the learning of the student or others, a student’s suspension exceeds 10 days, and a change in 170

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placement is contemplated. In any case, an FBA should lead to a BIP that is developed by persons who know the student, aligned with the function of the behavior, include a positive behavior intervention component, and be implemented with fidelity (Maag and Katsiyannis 2006). Translating strategies proven effective under highly controlled, clinical conditions into technically sound and practical tools for use in schools has posed a number of challenges and, rightfully so, raised questions among some in the field of emotional and behavioral difficulties (EBD) (e.g. Sasso et al. 2001). Doubtless, the FBA process sometimes has been flawed and has not always resulted in an adequate BIP (e.g. Van Acker et al. 2005). However, evidence is rapidly mounting that the conduct of students with persistent behavior problems can be satisfactorily addressed in schools by individuals routinely employed in those settings (e.g. general education teachers, special education teachers, paraprofessionals (Goh and Bambara 2010)). As McIntosh et al. (2008b) suggested, focus on a proactive approach to addressing challenging behavior that includes skill building and environment manipulates makes FBA appropriate for use in schools. Goh and Bambara (2010) found that half of the FBA-based intervention studies they reviewed were conducted in general and special education settings or general education settings alone. Ervin et al. (2001) reviewed FBA studies conducted in schools and reported that only two of the 148 studies did not result in positive changes in behavior. In sum, there is a growing literature base to substantiate that FBA is a viable approach to addressing a wide range of pernicious behaviors— including that of students with EBD (e.g. Goh and Bambara 2010; Moreno and Bullock 2011).

Students with emotional/behavioral difficulties By definition, students with EBD evidence behavioral, social/interpersonal, and academic problems that pose formidable challenges to school personnel (Kauffman and Landrum 2009). Moreover, EBD often co-occurs with learning disabilities, attention deficit-hyperactive disorders (ADHD), conduct disorders, anxiety disorders, and/or depression. Not surprisingly, students with EBD are probably less successful in school than any other group of students—with or without disabilities (Landrum et al. 2003). They receive a disproportionally greater number of office disciplinary referrals, fail more high-stakes tests, are retained, suspended, and expelled in greater numbers, and are more likely to drop out of school than students in other disability categories (Landrum et al. 2003). Their post-schooling adjustment is abysmal—punctuated by poor job performance and troubled interpersonal relationships. Too often, the trajectory of problem behavior of children and adolescents with EBD is all too predictable—it multiplies, intensifies, and diversifies. Fortunately, in the past 10 years we have witnessed a dramatic increase in the number of evidence-based practices for students who engage in behaviors that are disruptive, non-compliant, antisocial, acting-out, or verbally and/or physically aggressive (e.g. Kerr and Nelson 2010; Ryan et al. 2008).

Research on functional behavior assessment and students with EBD According to Sugai et al. (as cited in Blood and Neel 2007: 68), ‘FBA is the cornerstone of systems that address the educational programming of students who display the most significant and challenging behavior problems’. Today, there are a number of studies in which the intervention was based on a FBA conducted in school settings and which produced positive outcomes for students with EBD. Before examining some of that research, we should distinguish between two commonly reported procedures. A functional assessment simply yields a description of the behavior and possible controlling variables, whereas a functional analysis involves experimentally assessing the accuracy of a hypothesis statement regarding the likely function(s) of the behavior by systematically manipulating environmental events (Ervin et al. 2001). 171

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In examining the research on FBA, Dunlap et al. (1993) used student interviews and direct observations (i.e. frequency counts or internal or partial interval recordings) to identify the likely function of target behaviors of five students with emotional disabilities (e.g. negative verbal responses, off-task behavior, running out of the classroom, noise-making). Next, they developed and tested hypotheses regarding the likely function of each student’s inappropriate behavior. Combining functional assessment and functional analysis, Dunlap et al. were able to reduce the level of undesirable behavior and, at the same time, increase the level of desirable behavior. Assessment took place in the students’ classroom and yielded data on different events for each of the five students—thus reinforcing the importance of an individualized approach to intervention. Blair et al. (1999) conducted a functional assessment using structured interviews administered to a program director and to teachers, combined with direct observations during large group instruction, to identify preferred activities of four children with emotional disabilities. They found that student behavior improved substantially when they engaged in preferred activities as part of daily classroom instruction. Umbreit et al. (2004) investigated the differential effects of manipulating academic task demands for a male student who was disrupting classroom instruction. The target was off-task behavior and, based on structured interviews with the teacher, paraprofessional, and the student and A-B-C (antecedent-behavior-consequence) assessment. They determined that the function was gaining access to an activity. Simultaneous to introducing more challenging tasks, there was a dramatic increase in task engagement. Turton et al. (2007) relied on teacher and student interviews, along with direct observation, to determine the likely motivation behind the inappropriate behavior (i.e. profanity/swearing) of a 16-year-old female with emotional disabilities. They used structured staff interviews, a structured student interview, and an A-B-C assessment. Once it was determined that the profanity was motivated by the desire to gain adult attention and to escape in-classroom assignments, a function-based intervention was developed. That plan included social skills instruction, verbal prompts to be on time and to use prosocial skills in response to adults’ requests, self-monitoring, and curricular adjustments that consisted of more challenging work, additional homework assignments, and participation in whole-class instruction. These combined interventions resulted in impressive changes in behavior, namely a decline in the use of profanity and an increase in the use of appropriate social skills. Kern et al. (2007) collected direct observation and interview data on the selective mutism of an 11-year-old and a 13-year-old student with emotional disabilities. For one student, observations were conducted across settings (i.e. general education classroom, playground, and home), and for the other, in a special education setting and for multiple academic subjects. A hypothesis was developed and an intervention crafted to align with the function of the behavior identified as escape for both students. The intervention consisted of teacher prompts and an incremental increase in the number of questions posed to the students. In both cases, the intervention yielded positive outcomes. Kern et al. (2007) noted that student input derived from student interviews proved useful in designing a non-intrusive intervention. Bessette and Wills (2007) trained paraprofessionals to perform three conditions of a functional analysis (play, attention, escape) and implemented a function-based intervention to address inappropriate verbalizations and physical aggression of a male elementary student with severe behavior problems. The results demonstrated that the three paraprofessionals could be taught how to conduct a functional analysis in a relatively brief amount of time and subsequently intervene successfully with a high level of fidelity. Carter and Horner (2007) incorporated functional assessment and function-based support with First Step to Success, a standardized, home-school program for children in kindergarten through second grade who are at-risk for antisocial behavior. Introducing aspects of function-based support increased the positive effects of First Step for a six-year-old male who had been referred 172

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for behavior support because of disruptive and non-compliant behavior in the classroom. That is, Carter and Horner reported a decline in problem behavior and an increase in academic engagement, along with a more positive teacher opinion of the student’s prosocial skills. Payne et al. (2007) investigated the efficiency and efficacy of function-based versus nonfunction-based interventions with four elementary school students—two male and two female— all of whom exhibited challenging behavior. The target behaviors included peer attention, escape from difficult academic tasks, teacher attention, and access to a specific peer. Data were collected through direct observation and the hypotheses for all four students were validated by means of a brief functional analysis. Results showed that function-based interventions were far more effective than non-function-based interventions in decreasing problem behavior of all four students. Payne et al. concluded that a simplified FBA was possible in school settings and that teachers will accept responsibility to conduct an FBA. Finally, Park and Scott (2009) combined brief functional assessment in the form of structural interviews of both teachers and parents and direct observation using an A-B-C assessment to identify antecedent conditions associated with the problem behavior of young children at risk for emotional disabilities. Once a hypothesis was established, they used a brief structural analysis (i.e. antecedent-based manipulations) to confirm their assumptions regarding events that preceded a target behavior. Park and Scott reported a marked decline in inappropriate behavior or an increase in on-task behavior concomitant to the manipulation of antecedent events, including teacher use of prompts, physical proximity, and high interest materials. They too reported that conducting a functional assessment and structural analysis was possible during regular classroom activities. There are at least two major implications that we can draw from the literature on FBA. First, many of the questions surrounding the use of FBA in naturalistic settings appear to have been answered (i.e. ability to train school personnel to implement a plan with integrity and its positive impact on pupil behavior) (Cook et al. 2010). Second, interventions aligned with the function of the student’s misbehavior are superior to non-function-based interventions (reduce problem behavior) (Payne et al. 2007; Scott and Kamps 2007). Furthermore, non-function-based interventions may have no effect or exacerbate an already difficult situation (McIntosh et al. 2008a).

Challenges to the use of FBA in programs for students with EBD Even though many students with EBD engage in behavior that justifies an FBA and BIP, only about half have a behavioral support plan (Wagner et al. 2006). Function-based interventions are more likely to be evidence-based at the elementary school than at the middle or high school level (Lane et al. 2009). In some instances, teachers still rely on subjective opinion and a stock list of intervention options (Blood and Neel 2007). Part of the problem may be the kind and amount of training afforded school personnel—‘one-shot’ (one-off) or otherwise time-limited sessions (e.g. Van Acker et al. 2005), along with the perception that FBA demands too much time and effort (Bessette and Wills 2007). Accordingly, more research is needed to determine the best way to train school personnel and the administrative and organizational structures and supports necessary to implement with integrity FBAs in school settings; in other words, establishing a goodness of ‘contextual fit’ (Reid and Nelson 2002; Scott and Kamps 2007). It may be that two teams comprising highly trained individuals would be most effective and efficient—one that addresses school-wide issues and the other pupil-specific behavior problems. Or, as the preceding discussion highlights, the level of sophistication associated with an FBA (e.g. type and amount of data collected) may vary according to the nature of the presenting problem (i.e. mild versus severe) (Park 2007). Experience tells us that some aspects of FBA do not transfer well to applied settings (Gable 1999). The use of analogue assessment is especially problematic. Analogue assessment consists of 173

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a highly structured five- to 15-minute ‘one-to-one’ session. A student is exposed to conditions associated with problem behavior (e.g. absence of attention, removal of a play object) (Kern et al. 2004) and the rate of problem behavior is compared across conditions. Not surprisingly, most school personnel lack the technical skill to conduct an analogue assessment or the time or resources to do so (Ervin et al. 2001). Moreover, the experimental manipulation of variables thought to control low frequency, high intensity behavior may pose unacceptable risks for students and be objectionable to adults. Finally, analogue assessment was originally designed to test a single variable at a time and, therefore, may be of limited applicability to students with EBD (Kern et al. 2004). According to Kern et al., the systematic manipulation of antecedent events may be a viable alternative in applied settings (e.g. teacher instruction, task demands). In the end, a ‘middle ground’ may exist when a student’s challenging behavior is neither too complex nor too severe (Scott and Kamps 2007). For example, a hypothesis statement about the function of the behavior, based on brief direct observation in combination with indirect measures such as the Functional Assessment Checklist—Teachers and Staff (McIntosh et al. 2008a) and structured student interviews may be acceptable when the problem is of low intensity. The higher the convergence (agreement between different sources of information), the more likely it is that assessment results are accurate. In that case, the use of functional analysis might be reserved for more complex and persistent behavior problems (Scott and Kamps 2007). However, a negative student response would signal the need to change immediately the intervention and to initiate a more comprehensive functional assessment (McIntosh et al. 2008a). In that there are no research-validated rules regarding the use of direct versus indirect measures of behavior, research is needed to guide selection of the most appropriate measurement tools. Research also is needed to determine the most acceptable and efficacious form of FBA under varying conditions (Gable 1999). As Scott and Kamps (2007: 148) put it, researchers must map out the ‘the intersection of necessity and efficiency’.

Functional behavioral assessment and positive behavioral intervention and supports With the growing popularity of positive behavioral intervention and supports (PBIS) and the more recent introduction of response to intervention (RtI), we now have a multi-tiered approach to prevention/intervention and can match the intensity of the intervention with the seriousness of the problem (Sugai et al. 1999). Many times, students with EBD do not respond positively to universal or focused interventions; the magnitude of the problems they exhibit often necessitate intensive FBA-based intervention(s) (Lane et al. 2009). The fact that class-wide behavior problems can undermine the integrity of pupil-specific interventions (Kern et al. 2009) adds further credence to an approach that includes multiple levels of progressively more-individualized interventions and supports (e.g. classroom rules/expectations; contingency contracts; function-based interventions).

Conclusion As our discussion clearly demonstrates, there is good reason for school personnel to rely on data from an FBA to address the challenging behavior of students with disabilities. We recognize that the transformation of a methodologically rigorous clinical process for persons with low-incidence disabilities to a straightforward assessment process for students with high-incidence disabilities—including EBD, has not been without its critics or challenges. Admittedly, some aspects of FBA might best be characterized as ‘a work in progress’. To date, the majority of studies have focused on externalizing (non-compliance, verbal or physical aggression), rather than internalizing behavior (withdrawal, 174

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anxiety, depression). Still, an emerging literature documents the positive impact of FBA on services for students with EBD. A number of those studies have been conducted by practitioners and not researchers (Goh and Bambara 2010). Ultimately, the real measure of the worth of FBA is the extent to which it yields a BIP that changes student behavior in ways that are socially significant (McIntosh et al. 2008a). That said, we strongly believe that there is compelling evidence that FBA has significantly enhanced the ‘life chances’ of many children and adolescents with EBD.

References Bessette, K.K. and Wills, H.P. (2007) ‘An example of elementary school paraprofessional-implemented functional analysis and intervention’. Behavioral Disorders 3: 192–210. Blair, K.C., Umbreit, J. and Bos, C.S. (1999) ‘Using functional assessment and children’s preferences to improve the behavior of young children with behavioral disorders’. Behavioral Disorders 24: 151–66. Blood, E. and Neel, R.S. (2007) ‘From FBA to implementation: A look at what is actually being delivered’. Education and Treatment of Children 30(4): 67–80. Carter, D.R. and Horner, R.H. (2007) ‘Adding functional behavioral assessment to first step to success: A case study’. Journal of Positive Behavioral Interventions 9: 229–38. Cook, C.R., Mayer, R., Wright, D.B., Kraemer, B., Wallace, M.D., Dart, E., Collins, T. and Restori, A. (2010) ‘Exploring the link among behavior intervention plans, treatment integrity, and student outcomes’. Journal of Special Education, advance online publication, doi:10.1177/0022466910369941. Dunlap, G., Kern, L., dePerczel, M., Clarke, S., Wilson, D., Childs, K.E. and Falk, G.D. (1993) ‘Functional analysis of classroom variables for students with emotional and behavioral disorders’. Behavioral Disorders 18(4): 275–91. Ervin, R.A., Radford, P.M., Bertsch, K., Piper, A.L., Ehrhardt, K.E. and Poling, A. (2001) ‘A descriptive analysis and critique of the empirical literature on school-based functional assessment’. School Psychology Review 30(2): 193–210. Gable, R.A. (1999) ‘Functional assessment in school settings’. Behavioral Disorders 24: 246–48. Goh, A.E. and Bambara, L.M. (2010) ‘Individualized positive behavior support in school settings: A meta-analysis’. Remedial and Special Education, advance online publication, doi: 10.1177/0741932510383990. Gresham, F. (1991) ‘Whatever happened to functional analysis in behavioral consultation?’ Journal of Educational and Psychological Consultation 2(4): 387–92. Kauffman, J.M. and Landrum, T.J. (2009) Characteristics of Emotional and Behavioral Disorders of Children and Youth, 9th edn. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Pearson. Kern, L., Hilt, A.M. and Gresham, F. (2004) ‘An evaluation of the functional behavioral assessment process used with students with or at risk for emotional behavioral disorders’. Education and Treatment of Children 27(4): 440–52. Kern, L., Hilt-Panahon, A. and Sokol, N.G. (2009) ‘Further examining the triangle tip: Improving supports for students with emotional and behavioral needs’. Psychology in the Schools 46: 18–32. Kern, L., Starosta, K., Cook, C., Bambara, L. and Gresham, F. (2007) ‘Functional assessment-based intervention for selective mutism’. Behavioral Disorders 32: 94–108. Kerr, M.M. and Nelson, C.M. (2010) Strategies for Addressing Behavioral Problems in the Classroom, 6th edn. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Pearson. Landrum, T.J., Tankersley, M. and Kauffman, J.M. (2003) ‘What is special about special education for students with emotional or behavioral disorders?’ Journal of Special Education 37: 148–56. Lane, K.L, Kalberg, J.R. and Shepcaro, J.C. (2009) ‘An examination of the evidence base for functionbased interventions for students with emotional and/or behavioral disorders attending middle or high schools’. Exceptional Children 75: 321–40. Maag, J.W. and Katsiyannis, A. (2006) ‘Behavioral intervention plans: Legal and practical considerations for students with emotional and behavioral disorders’. Behavioral Disorders 31: 348–62. McIntosh, K., Borgmeier, C., Anderson, C.M., Horner, R.H., Rodriguez, B.J. and Tobin, T. (2008a) ‘Technical adequacy of the functional assessment checklist: Teachers and staff (FACTS) FBA interview’. Journal of Positive Behavioral Interventions 10: 33–45. McIntosh, K., Brown, J.A. and Borgmeier, C.J. (2008b) ‘Validity of functional behavioral assessment within a response to intervention framework: Evidence, recommended practice, and future directions’. Assessment for Effective Intervention 34: 6–14.

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Moreno, G. and Bullock, L.M. (2011) ‘Principles of positive behavioral supports: Using the FBA as a problem-solving approach to address challenging behavior beyond special populations’. Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 16(2): 117–27. n.a. (1997) Individuals with Disabilities Education Act of 1997, Pub.L. No. 105–17, 37 Stat. 111. n.a. (2004) Individuals with Disabilities Education Improvement Act of 2004, 29 U.S.C. §1400 et seq. Park, K.L. (2007) ‘Facilitating effective team-based functional behavioral assessments in typical school settings’. Beyond Behavior 17: 21–31. Park, K.L. and Scott, T.M. (2009) ‘Antecedent-based interventions for young children at-risk for emotional and behavioral disorders’. Behavioral Disorders 34: 196–212. Payne, L.D., Scott, T.M. and Conroy, M. (2007) ‘A school-based examination of the efficacy of function-based intervention’. Behavioral Disorders 32: 158–73. Reid, R. and Nelson, J.R. (2002) ‘The utility, acceptability, and practicality of functional behavioral assessment for students with high-incidence problem behaviors’. Remedial and Special Education 2: 15–23. Ryan, J.B., Pierce, C.D. and Mooney, P. (2008) ‘Evidence-based teaching strategies for students with EBD’. Beyond Behavior 17: 22–29. Sasso, G., Conroy, M., Stichter, J.P. and Fox, J.J. (2001) ‘Slowing down the bandwagon: The misapplication of functional assessment for students with emotional or behavioral disorders’. Behavioral Disorders 26: 282–96. Scott, T.M. and Kamps, D.M. (2007) ‘The future of functional behavioral assessment in school settings’. Behavioral Disorders 32: 146–57. Sugai, G., Lewis-Palmer, T. and Hagan-Burke, S. (1999) ‘Overview of the functional behavioral assessment process’. Exceptionality 8: 149–60. Turton, A., Umbreit, J., Liaupsin, C. and Bartley, J. (2007) ‘Function-based Intervention for an adolescent with emotional and behavioral disorders in Bermuda: Moving across culture’. Behavioral Disorders 33: 23–32. Umbreit, J., Lane, K.L. and Dejud, C. (2004) ‘Improving classroom behavior by modifying task difficulty: Effects of increasing the difficulty of too-easy tasks’. Journal of Positive Behavioral Interventions 6: 13–20. Van Acker, R., Boreson, L., Gable, R.A. and Potterton, T. (2005) ‘Are we on the right course? Lessons learned about current FBA/BIP practices in schools’. Journal of Behavioral Education 14(1): 35–56. Wagner, M., Friend, M., Bursuck, W.D., Kutash, K., Duchnowski, A.J., Sumi, W.C. and Epstein, M.H. (2006) ‘Educating students with disabilities: A national perspective on programs and services’. Journal of Emotional and Behavioral Disabilities 14: 12–30.

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20 Developing comprehensive, integrated, three-tiered models to prevent and manage learning and behavior problems Kathleen Lynne Lane, Wendy Peia Oakes, Holly Mariah Menzies and Pamela J. Harris

When administrators,1 teachers, and other school personnel are asked to define what it means for a student to have an emotional or behavioral disorder (EBD), the first images and thoughts are often reflective of externalizing behaviors. These specific behaviors include verbal and physical aggression, noncompliance, bullying, and coercive behaviors (Lane et al. in press b; Walker et al. 2004). It is not surprising that educators focus on these dimensions of EBD, as these behaviors clearly impede the instructional process for many teachers and interrupt the learning experiences of all students (Lane 2007). Yet, the construct of EBD also includes students with internalizing behaviors with characteristics such as anxiety, social withdrawal, depression, and somatic complaints (Achenbach 1991). Although internalizing behaviors are often less recognized as they tend not to impede instruction, they are no less important, as they have serious negative implications for the students who suffer from them (Crick et al. 2002; Morris et al. 2002). Students with externalizing, internalizing, and comorbid behaviors struggle in multiple aspects of their lives (Kauffman and Brigham 2009). For example, they tend to experience limited and often turbulent social interactions with their peers, strained relationship with their teachers, as well as poor academic performance (Nelson et al. 2004; Walker et al. 1992). In the absence of effective interventions, these struggles may become more pronounced over time and the outcomes quite bleak, as evidenced by sub-average academic performance and limited self-determined behaviors (Greenbaum et al. 1996; Landrum et al. 2003; Mattison et al. 1998; Mattison et al. 2002; Reid et al. 2004; Wehmeyer and Field 2007). While some educators may contend such students require special education services under the category of emotional disturbance as defined in the Individuals with Disabilities Education Improvement Act (IDEA) (n.a. 2004), prevalence estimates suggest this is not necessarily the case (Lane et al. in press a). Approximately 6 per cent of school-age students have EBD, yet less than 1 per cent of students are served under the ED category (Kauffman and Brigham 2009; Wagner et al. 2006; Wagner et al. 2005). As such, many students who have more general behavioral challenges will not qualify for special education services. Instead, these students will be served within the context of the 177

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general education classroom. In this chapter, we emphasize three main points: (i) supporting students with EBD is a shared responsibility of the general and special education communities; (ii) a systems-level approach to preventing the development of and responding to existing instances of EBD is a respectful, efficient method of supporting all learning; and (iii) a comprehensive, integrated, three-tiered (CI3T) model of prevention with graduated support to meet students’ academic, behavioral, and social needs holds particular promise for students with and at risk for EBD.

Supporting students with EBD: a shared responsibility Fortunately, in the last decade many school systems have shifted away from a ‘within-child’ approach to students with EBD. In years past, too often the goal seemed to be: refer-test-place (Shinn 1986). In other words, the expectation was that students whose behavior and academic performance patterns differed markedly from the norm should be referred to a multidisciplinary team, tested to determine special education eligibility, and—when warranted—placed outside of the general education setting to receive special education services. Now, the view has shifted towards a systems-level perspective in which the goal is to referconsult-intervene (Sugai and Horner 2002). This new approach involves using data-based procedures to identify students for whom primary prevention efforts (Tier 1) are insufficient and then consulting with school-site leadership teams to connect students with supports to enable them to participate successfully in the general education context (Lane et al. 2011b).

A systems-level perspective: supporting students with EBD within comprehensive, integrated, three-tiered (CI3T) models of prevention As school systems shift their focus towards a coordinated approach of graduated supports for meeting students’ multiple needs, there have been two predominating three-tiered models of prevention in the USA. The first is response-to-intervention (RTI), focusing primarily on academic performance (Fuchs and Fuchs 2006; Gresham 2002; Sugai et al. 2002). The second is positive behavior interventions and supports (PBIS), focusing primarily on social and behavioral outcomes (Sugai and Horner 2002). In the last 10 years a new model has been introduced: a comprehensive, integrated, three-tiered (CI3T) model of prevention designed to address students’ academic, behavioral, and social needs (Lane et al. 2009). The CI3T blends RTI and PBIS by providing a comprehensive, integrated model that enables school site leadership teams to consider students’ multiple needs simultaneously. In this data-based decision model, data from multiple sources such as academic screening tools (e.g. AIMSweb; Pearson Education 2008), behavior screening tools (e.g. the Student Risk Screening Scale, SRSS; Drummond 1994; see Lane et al. in press a, for a discussion of available systematic behavior screening tools), office discipline referral (ODR), and attendance (‘tardies’ (students arriving late at school) and absences) are used to determine patterns of responsiveness to the primary plan and link students to additional supports in an efficient, effective manner.

Levels of prevention As with the RTI and PBIS models, the CI3T model comprises three prevention levels: primary (Tier 1), secondary (Tier 2), and tertiary (Tier 3). All students receive access to the primary prevention plan, which includes three components: instruction in core academic curriculum, social skills instruction, and participation in a positive behavior support framework. In terms of the academic curriculum, the roles and responsibilities of all key stakeholders are specified for students, teachers, 178

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parents, and administrators to ensure full participation in the core curriculum offered at the school site. For example, teachers may hold the responsibility of teaching the core reading curriculum with integrity; providing starting and closing activities for each instructional block; and posting assignments on a web-based system to inform students and parents of pending class work and homework. Parents may be asked to provide a space where students can complete homework assignments and commit to bringing students to school on time and avoid early dismissals. After selecting an evidence-based social skills curriculum (e.g. Elliott and Gresham 2007; Social Skills Improvement System—Classwide Intervention Program), the school-site team delineates the roles and responsibilities for all stakeholders in implementing and evaluating the program. As with the academic component, it is important to ensure the program is implemented with integrity and student performance is monitored to identify those who may require additional supports. The behavioral component is unique in that it is not a curriculum, but a framework. As part of the school-wide positive behavior support program, faculty and staff establish expectations (e.g. respect, responsibility, and diligence) for all students, which are the defined for all key settings. Teachers provide instruction for these expectations, creating opportunities for students to practice and receive reinforcement for meeting expectations. School-wide data, collected as part of regular school practices, are reviewed by the school-site leadership team to identify students who might require one or more of the additional supports defined as part of the CI3T model (Lane et al. in press a). Secondary (Tier 2) supports often include small group or other low-intensity strategies (e.g. self-management interventions; Mooney et al. 2005) to reverse harm. The goal is to provide feasible, effective supports for students (approximately 10–15 per cent of the student body) for whom primary prevention efforts are insufficient. Students continue to participate in primary prevention; however, supplemental programs or practices are provided. For example, students may be identified as being below benchmark on AIMSweb (Pearson Education 2008) probes while also being rated as moderate or high risk on the Student Risk Screening Scale. These students may receive a Tier 2 reading intervention led by the general education classroom teacher in a small-group format within a 90-minute literacy (lesson) block. In addition, these students may also participate in a self-monitoring intervention to address their behavioral challenges by helping them increase their rates of participation during the additional reading instruction (e.g. Altmann 2010). Other students who are at or above grade level, but who struggle with issues of work completion as measured by progress reports and challenging behaviors as measured by the SRSS may benefit from a small-group intervention focusing on improving achievement motivation skills (e.g. Lane et al. 2011c). When establishing secondary supports it is important to specify a clear description of the support offered (who will do what, with whom, and under what conditions). Specific data-based inclusion criteria should be set to identify students for participation. In addition, the method by which student progress will be monitored (including the frequency needed to determine responsiveness as well as exit criteria specifying when the secondary support is no longer warranted) should be established before supports are provided. If students are responsive to this level of support, the secondary support is faded and the student continues with the primary prevention (regular classroom instruction). If students are not responsive, tertiary supports may be warranted. Tertiary (Tier 3) supports increase in intensity, offering students highly individualized attention such as more intensive reading supports (Denton et al. 2006), functional assessment-based interventions (Kern and Manz 2004; Lane et al. 2011b), multisystemic family therapy (multisystemic therapy, Henggeler 1998), or wraparound services (Eber et al. 2009). Such supports are often one-to-one instruction or other ideographic supports designed with a goal of reversing harm for students exposed to multiple risk factors. For example, students at high risk on the Student Risk Screening Scale who are also earning failing grades may participate in functional 179

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assessment-based interventions to teach the students a new way of behaving. A student who acts out to escape too-difficult tasks may participate in a packaged intervention inclusive of: (i) antecedent adjustment that includes modifying the difficulty of the task by providing more scaffolded instruction; (ii) adjusted rates of reinforcement in which students receive higher rates of attention for the new, more desirable behavior (e.g. academic engagement) relative to the identified behavior of concern (e.g. disruption); and (iii) application of extinction procedures when disruption does occur (Umbreit et al. 2007). Because this level of prevention clearly involves a greater set of resources (e.g. time, personnel, and money) than do the primary and secondary supports, it is important to ensure these supports are invoked only when needed. If students are responsive to this level of support, the tertiary support is faded and the student may either return to the primary prevention plan or perhaps receive a secondary support to sustain the new behavior. If students are not responsive, they may be referred to a multidisciplinary team to determine special education eligibility (IDEA 2004). Movement within this tiered system of support is grounded in data-based decision-making, which offers a number of strengths.

Strengths and considerations There are several benefits associated with having the full range of supports—primary, secondary, and tertiary—clearly articulated in the school’s CI3T model, two of which include access and search responsibilities. First, having a clearly articulated, multi-tiered prevention plan promotes equal access to supports. All faculty, staff, and parents have a blueprint depicting the full scope of supports and practices offered at a given school. Thus, everyone—including first year teachers and individuals new to a given school—have equal information available to them regarding schoolsite offerings. Similarly, all students would have the same opportunities to benefit from secondary or tertiary supports beyond the primary prevention plans. Rather than relying on teacher judgment or a pre-referral processes to access supports, school-site leadership teams examine data at natural intervals during the school year (e.g. during benchmarking intervals, quarterly when progress reports and/or report cards are completed) to determine which students might benefit from additional assistance. Essentially, such a model eliminates the ambiguity and lack of equity often associated with referral processes that do not include data-based decision-making. Second, each school site is required to have a plan to meet the search and serve requirements specified in IDEA (n.a. 2004). The law requires each state in the USA to have procedures in place to identify students who may be eligible for special education services, including those who are passing from grade to grade. A CI3T model is an excellent starting point, offering a systematic approach for monitoring key aspects of students’ performance to look for and support students who may require more intensive assistance in the form of research-based strategies and practices beyond primary prevention efforts. If these more intensive practices when implemented with integrity do not yield desired outcomes (e.g. improved academic performance), it may be necessary to refer a student to a multidisciplinary team to determine the appropriateness of special education services. Such a model holds promise for all students: those exceeding expectations who may need enrichment; those falling short of expectations who may need remediation; and particularly for students with academic, behavioral, and social deficits such as those with EBD.

Shifting towards a systems-level approach: the benefit for students with EBD This systems-level focus is particularly beneficial for students with EBD, as the majority of students with these challenges will be served by general education teachers. As previously mentioned, shifting towards a systems-level approach allows educators an opportunity to move 180

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away from viewing differences as within-child problems. One clear strength of a systems approach is that school-site leadership teams can allocate supports at the earliest possible juncture. By early we mean early in a student’s educational career and early in the development of learning and behavior problems, when the discrepancy between current and desired performance is nominal. Given the fact that students with EBD become increasingly less amenable to intervention efforts over time, early detection and intervention are paramount (Walker et al. 2004). Too often a wait-to-fail approach is employed by schools (Lyon 1996). Time passes, waiting for a deficit to become pronounced enough to warrant supports. This is simply too costly for students with EBD, as they have multiple sets of concerns and their behavior patterns often pose significant challenges for their teachers, families, friends—and themselves. Research has consistently documented that teachers report not having the skill sets necessary to address management issues. For example, at the onset of their careers, 58 per cent of teachers indicated that they needed additional practical training in classroom management skills. At the end of their first year of instruction, this percentage increased slightly to 61 per cent. This suggests merely completing their first year of instruction did not equip teachers with the additional skill sets with respect to managing behavior in a more successful manner (Harris 1991). Given that most students with EBD will receive educational services in the general education setting, it is imperative for teacher-preparation institutions to consider seriously the skill sets necessary for general and special education teachers to work collaboratively and successfully within the context of CI3T models. To this end, the job of personnel preparation institutions is two-fold. First, there is a need to produce general education teachers equipped with the full set of skills necessary to meet students’ academic, behavioral, and social needs—to the maximum extent possible—within the framework of three-tiered models of prevention. Second, there is a need to produce special education teachers empowered to work within systems, ensuring that they (i) retain the skill sets needed to serve students identified with special needs, and (ii) refine the skill sets needed to serve as collaborators with the general education community to prevent the development of learning and behavior problems and respond more effectively to existing instances of these concerns.

Summary Students with and at risk of EBD are among the most difficult students to support, as they have multiple needs in academic, behavioral, and social domains. Because most students with EBD will be educated in the general education context, it is imperative for general education teachers to be well equipped to (i) prevent the development learning and behavior problems from occurring, and (ii) respond more effectively to existing instances of EBD. Fortunately, the field is shifting towards a systems-level model of support for all students, including those with EBD. One such model is a comprehensive, integrated, three-tiered (CI3T) model of prevention. The CI3T model integrated RTI and PBIS models, with an added emphasis on social competence. This model offers data-based methods of providing graduated supports in the form of primary (Tier 1), secondary (Tier 2), and tertiary (Tier 3) levels of prevention according to students’ needs. When implemented with integrity, this model provides an efficient, effective method of preventing and responding to learning and behavioral challenges.

Note 1 This research was supported in part by the Project SUPPORT and INCLUDE, a technical assistance grant from the Tennessee Department of Education (#GR--10-27642-00). For inquiries regarding this chapter, please contact Professor Kathleen Lynne Lane, University of North Carolina.

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21 Resilience-enhancing classrooms for children with social, emotional and behavioural difficulties Carmel Cefai

Introduction Research suggests that educators prefer teaching pupils with physical or intellectual disabilities or difficulties, to working with children and young people with social, emotional and behaviour difficulties (SEBD) (Avramidis and Norwich 2002; Evans and Lunt 2002; Kalambouka et al. 2007). MacBeath et al. (2006) reported that when teachers in the UK expressed concerns about inclusion, these were mainly addressed at behaviour issues. Indeed, students with SEBD are usually the least liked and understood students (Baker 2005; Kalambouka et al. 2007), the least likely to receive effective and timely support (Baker 2005; Kalambouka et al. 2007; Ofsted 2007), and the most vulnerable to school failure and premature school leaving, social exclusion and mental health problems (Cole et al. 2005; Colman et al. 2009; O’Regan 2010). The high incidence of SEBD among excludees (Parsons et al. 2001; O’Regan 2010) indicates that in the case of SEBD, schools in general tend to be more willing to consider exclusion as a legitimate resolution, than for other forms of special educational needs (SEN). Cefai and Cooper (2010) provide a portrait of students with SEBD who feel unloved and unwanted by their teachers, victims of an unjust and oppressive system, unsupported in their needs and excluded from the academic and social aspects of everyday life. Unsurprisingly some of the students sought to disengage from such a system in an effort to protect themselves from a sense of failure, incompetence and ineptitude. Schools themselves may constitute a risk factor for students with other difficulties in their lives, thus contributing to social exclusion, mental health difficulties and antisocial behaviour in young adulthood. On the other hand, a positive school experience can protect vulnerable children and young people from the negative impact of chaotic, unstable and unhealthy contexts, and give them the skills and self-belief to thrive despite the odds (Masten 2001; Benard 2004). For instance, when given a second chance, such as going to another school which addressed their needs, students with SEBD reported a more positive view of school and learning, which led to a more positive view of themselves and their abilities, a process Cooper (1993) calls ‘positive resignification’. A healthier school experience could have prevented their negative signification. It would have led to them being resilient students despite the difficulties they encountered in their family and personal lives. 184

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Schools and classrooms can affect the developmental trajectory of children and young people with or at risk of having SEBD. They can help to promote such students’ academic, social and emotional success and prevent their disaffection and disengagement. Children most at risk by virtue of disadvantaged home or socio-economic background, have most to gain from a stable, healthy school environment, as they need a different social context which provides them with the opportunities missing from their home or community background (Benard 2004; Muijs and Reynolds 2005). In such situations the school may provide a supportive framework which helps the students to overcome the negative influences of other aspects of their lives. It can promote positive self-concept, enhance confidence as able learners, and provide the skills required to thrive in times of difficulty. Students provided with such protective social contexts are more effective in coping with adversity than others with lower levels of protection (Werner and Smith 1992; Rutter and English and Romanian Adoptees Study Team 1998; Benard 2004).

School factors promoting educational resilience Resilience has been defined as successful adaptation in the face of adversity and environmental stressors, a process of successful adaptation and transformation despite risk and adversity (Masten 1994). It is ‘more about ordinary responses which focus on strengths rather than extraordinary processes’ (Masten 2001: 228). There is magic, but it is ‘ordinary magic’. In contrast to the invulnerability perspective of earlier research (e.g. Garmezy 1971), resilience is a quality that can be nurtured and developed from a very young age, and the systems impinging on the child’s life, such as the school, have a crucial and determining role in directing the child’s physical, social, emotional and cognitive development towards healthy trajectories even in the face of risk (Pianta and Walsh 1998; Dent and Cameron 2003; Benard 2004). Three major school factors protect vulnerable children and young people and support their academic and social development, namely caring relationships, meaningful engagement and high expectations (Rees and Bailey 2003; Benard 2004). A caring teacher-pupil relationship is a highly protective factor for children, providing a psychological structure within which they can grow and thrive as healthy human beings. It is associated with positive interactions with peers, emotional regulation, academic achievement and fewer behaviour problems (Pianta 1999; Davis 2003). This protective effect operates for all pupils in the classroom, but appears to be particularly significant for vulnerable children (Pianta 1999). Werner and Smith (1992) found that among the most frequently encountered positive role models in the lives of resilient children outside the family circle was a teacher with whom the pupils had built a close relationship and who served as a positive model for personal identification. Such a relationship provides a supportive scaffold which encourages students to engage in positive social interactions with each other and with other adults without any undue stress, thus helping them to develop healthier relationships in their lives. The second major resilience-enhancing factor in classrooms is the students’ active engagement in the learning process (Benard 2004). Students are provided with opportunities to participate actively in meaningful classroom activities, are given responsibilities and have a say in the decisions made in the classroom related to both academic and social goals. They are encouraged to take more responsibility for their own behaviour and make their own choices. Classroom activities are adapted according to the students’ needs, and adequate support is provided accordingly. Finally, teachers hold high expectations for all their students, including those who are considered at risk (Benard 2004). The teacher’s message is one of hope and belief that all students are able to learn and achieve and all would be supported to do so. The focus is not on deficits and failure, but on strengths, support and success for all, a clear attempt to break the cycle of failure and remove structural, pedagogical and curricular barriers to the students’ academic and social development. 185

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These three processes are clearly embedded in daily classroom life, underlining that the most effective approaches to promote resilience in school are ones that integrate the resilience principles and practices into the daily mainstream classroom activities, rather than through bolt-on, one-off programmes (Pianta and Walsh 1998; Benard 2004; Waxman et al. 2004). As the Mental Health Foundation of Australia (2005: 1) put it, ‘within this philosophy every teacher-child interaction becomes an opportunity to promote resilience’. Teachers are not expected to become psychologists or mental health professionals, but to become more aware of the potential influence of their interactions and behaviour on the wellbeing and resilience of their students. ‘Resiliency is absorbed by children who learn in an environment that is supportive, challenging and involving, in which the innate potential of each child is believed in and nurtured’ (Mental Health Foundation of Australia 2005: 1). Daniels et al. (1999) have similarly found that the schools that were effective in the education of students with EBD did not use ‘specialist’ approaches but made use of mainstream teaching and learning processes. They were schools where teachers provided time for listening and talking, where they respected students’ rights, where they adapted the curriculum according to the needs of the students, and where they sought to provide adequate support to students with EBD. They were resilience-enhancing schools.

Building resilience through community building The following section describes a universal framework of resilience which focuses on how the classroom teacher may create a classroom context promoting positive social, emotional and cognitive behaviours amongst all the students in the classroom, particularly those with social, emotional and behaviour difficulties. The framework has been developed from good practices observed in a number of primary classrooms operating as optimal learning environments and healthy social and emotional contexts for all students (Cefai 2008). The framework underlines the need to organise the classroom context in such a way as to match the developmental needs of all the students and adopt processes that will promote social, emotional and academic development among both atrisk students and those who are developing normally. These processes are grounded in the typical mechanisms involved in the development of social, emotional and academic competence. Caring classroom relationships, meaningful engagement, shared values and a sense of belonging have consistently been shown to be related to positive academic and social outcomes among students, including those considered at risk of school failure and psychosocial difficulties (Daniels et al. 1999; Solomon et al. 2000; Fletcher-Campbell and Wilkin 2003; DeJong 2005; Cefai 2007). This perspective also reflects the current realities and challenges faced by our children and young people today. Increasing economic, social and psychological stresses in children’s life today underlines the need for supportive contexts and systems for all children (see Layard and Dunn 2009). The framework portrays classrooms as inclusive learning communities, characterised by: caring and supportive relationships; an ethic of support and solidarity; authentic, active and meaningful student engagement; collaboration amongst classroom members; inclusion of all students in the learning and social processes; positive beliefs and high expectations; and student autonomy and participation in classroom decision-making (Figure 21.1). These processes help to create a community that satisfies the basic psychological needs (relatedness, competence, autonomy and fun). Needs satisfaction contributes to students’ sense of being part of the classroom community and facilitates their internalisation of the academic and social values and norms in such communities, such as mutual understanding, respect and support, sharing, collaboration, solidarity and other prosocial behaviours, as well as positive attitudes towards learning and academic engagement (Deci and Ryan 2000). Taken together, these processes become more than the sum of their parts. As Dweck (1999) argues, students’ beliefs about themselves, their abilities and learning are strongly influenced 186

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Figure 21.1 Classrooms as caring, resilience-enhancing communities

by the classroom processes and relationships. Students who feel trusted and valued internalise the values and goals that the teachers hold for them and are more likely to be motivated, to work hard and to behave well. Actively engaged students become more confident in their own competencies, experience a positive social and academic self-esteem and self-efficacy. They participate more actively in class, persist in the face of difficulty, deal more constructively with problem situations, and show more prosocial behaviour (e.g. Linnenbrink and Pintrich 2003).

Resilience-enhancing classroom communities Caring and connecting relationships A healthy teacher-student relationship provides a scaffold of support and stability for vulnerable students, while an unhealthy one often leads to student disengagement and disaffection (Pianta 1999; Benard 2004; Kroeger et al. 2004). In resilience-enhancing classrooms, teachers take on a 187

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dual role as effective and nurturing educators, supporting students’ learning and academic success, while seeking to address their socio-affective needs. They appreciate the need to know the students well and to adapt their methods according to their needs. They reach out to their students, showing interest and respect, listening to their stories and concerns, expressing warmth and encouragement, providing nurture and support, and ‘digging for gold’ (Pianta 1999) to nurture students’ potential and strengths. They invest heavily in building relationships and in creating teaching and learning experiences within a culture of care. In such classrooms, students thus feel safe, valued and trusted. They can afford to wear their natural faces, instead of fake ones (Bluestein 2001). They can take risks and make mistakes without the fear of feeling humiliated or embarrassed. Gradually they develop more protective, positive views of themselves and of their abilities and strengths.

An ethic of support and solidarity Studies which examined peer support and acceptance in the classroom suggested that these factors have a significant influence on pupils’ learning and behaviour independent of the teachers’ behaviour. Students who have friends, feel accepted and respected by their classroom peers have a sense of classroom belonging, which is related to positive classroom behaviours like motivation, engagement, performance and positive interactions with peers (Wentzell 1998). In resilienceenhancing classrooms, students care for and support each other, solve conflicts constructively, share interests and celebrate personal and classroom rituals together, thus strengthening their sense of connectedness. Excessive competition is discouraged and bullying and put-downs are not tolerated. Peer mentoring, peer tutoring and buddy systems are key aspects of daily classroom life, and students with SEBD are provided with opportunities to enact such roles.

Active and genuine student engagement In resilience-promoting classrooms, students can engage in activities where their skills, efforts and achievements are nurtured and recognised. The curriculum is meaningful, the pedagogy connective rather than disengaging, learning constructive and experiential rather than teachercentred and directed (Farrell et al. 2000; Watkins 2003; Groom and Rose 2004; Cooper and Jacobs 2011). The students participate in activities that make use of child-centred and activitybased strategies connected to the young people’s own life experiences, fostering a sense of competence and confidence in themselves as learners (Howard et al. 1999; Linnenbrink and Pintrich 2003). The main focus is on learning; examinations are important but do not determine everyday classroom life. Use of multi-sensory resources and interactive activities, and a pedagogy drawing on pupils’ own developmental stages, experiences and interests, facilitate students’ active engagement. Students are not afraid of taking risks or making mistakes, while the celebration of achievements and effort is common. Learning becomes an enjoyable, inherently motivating, ‘messy’, authentic enterprise, harnessing students’ emotions in task engagement and performance and facilitating a state comparable to ‘flow’ (Csikszentmihalyi 2002), an antidote to disengagement. In resilience-enhancing classrooms students are provided with opportunities to develop social and emotional literacy skills, such as self-awareness, emotional regulation, taking care of one’s health and well-being, problem-solving and decision-making, conflict resolution, communicating effectively and working collaboratively with others, and developing optimistic thinking. A dual focus on academic and social-emotional learning promotes academic achievement, engagement, positive behaviour and healthy relationships (Willms 2003; Durlak et al. 2011). 188

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Inclusion and success for all Resilience-enhancing classrooms are inclusive, providing a good fit between the needs of the individual child and a flexible, accommodating learning environment (cf. Daniels et al. 1999; Benard 2004; Bartolo et al. 2007). This is particularly relevant for students with SEBD who are most at risk for exclusion from school (Parsons 2001; Daniels and Cole 2010; O’Regan 2010). Students with SEBD frequently complain of finding it difficult to thrive in rigid systems which fail to address their learning, social and emotional needs but label them instead as deviant and failing (Baker 2005; Cefai and Cooper 2010). In resilience-enhancing communities children in difficulty are considered an important asset rather than a liability. There is an emphasis on different learning styles and dynamic learning readiness levels, with opportunities to learn according to one’s interests and needs and to develop one’s talents and skills, including non-academic ones. Teachers are ‘optimistically tuned’ (Benard 2004) to their students’ strengths and potential. They communicate these positive beliefs and expectations through their own commitment and enthusiasm, their affirmation of students’ abilities and successes, their expectations that students are to work harder and achieve more, expressing hope that students will be successful. They attend to students in their work, setting high but realistic goals, providing support as required and adopting a range of pedagogical approaches to suit diverse learning styles and readiness levels.

Collaboration and teamwork Resilience-enhancing classrooms underline the value and benefit of collaborative working and of ‘learning as building knowledge together’ (Watkins 2003) for both academic and social goals (Johnson and Johnson 2008; Friend and Cook 2009). Working together, solving problems together, learning from one another, sharing with and helping others, attending to, and empathising with, others, recruiting support and emotional regulation, are some of the key skills in resilience building, promoting students’ personal and social development, besides facilitating the achievement of individual and group goals. Such skills are particularly useful for students with SEBD who often find themselves isolated from their peers, with negative impact on their learning and social relationships. In resilience-promoting classrooms, students do not need to measure their achievement against that of their peers. The currency of self-worth is not individualism and rampant competition for prizes and certificates (Lewis et al. 1999), but building learning experience together. Students work in small cooperative groups or pairs, and are rewarded for positive interdependent work and effort, with group effort and achievement celebrated. All students should contribute to group tasks and all contributions valued. The teamwork between the class teacher and other adults in the classroom, such as learning support assistants, the staff’s own collegiality and collaboration, a whole-school focus on learning together and the teacher-parents collaboration are other sources that sustain the collaborative classroom community.

Choice and voice Students with SEBD frequently complain about oppressive school contexts, leaving them feeling helpless, disempowered and alienated (Daniels et al. 1999; Cefai and Cooper 2010). In resilienceenhancing classrooms the teacher considers students as responsible individuals capable of making good choices with regards to their learning and social behaviour. Students have opportunities to be influential, autonomous, develop a sense of mastery, optimism and confidence in their ability as competent learners. This militates against anger, frustration and the sense of helplessness and failure characteristic of many students with SEBD (Cooper and Jacobs 2011). Students are listened to and consulted on classroom activities and behaviours. Opportunities and encouragement are provided 189

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for the students to set their own learning goals and direction, to evaluate their own learning, to make choices on how to behave and contribute to classroom rules, to find their own solutions to difficulties and conflicts, and to take roles of responsibility and leadership. The recognition of students’ efforts and achievements, the promotion of their academic and non-academic strengths and the opportunity to be successful also help to affirm students’ selfbelief and promote their engagement (Linnenbrink and Pintrich 2003; Kroeger et al. 2004). Another useful form of enhancing the positive contribution of students with SEBD is what Werner and Smith (1992) call ‘required helpfulness’, whereby the students are provided with opportunities to offer their services to others, such as mentoring younger students. This enhances students’ self-efficacy and self-esteem and helps them to see themselves in a more positive light, namely as a classroom resource rather than a classroom problem (Beaumont 2009).

Conclusion Social, emotional and behaviour difficulties are a complex, multifaceted issue, with various biological, psychological, educational and social factors influencing the nature, cause and management of such difficulties (see Chapter 10, in this volume). Classrooms are only one system amongst many in the lives of children and young people and they do not have all the answers to all the issues. They are, however, a very influential system and have a key role to play in making a difference in the lives of the most vulnerable students. They can help to create resilient, successful young adults. The caring, challenging and engaging contexts described in this chapter provide the physical, social and psychological resources that students need to thrive cognitively and socio-emotionally, and to overcome difficulties. The resilience perspective carries a message of hope and optimism for the education of students with SEBD. It could be argued that teachers are educators and not psychologists or psychotherapists, and that their main task is to facilitate academic learning. Creating resilience-enhancing classrooms does not require teachers to develop specialist skills beyond those they already possess as educators. They may need, however, to change some of their classroom practices in seeking to create caring, supportive, inclusive, engaging and empowering communities. Many teachers may be already making use of many of the processes described above. However, when they do so in a conscious, deliberate, structured and systematic way, they should be more effective in creating resilience-enhancing classrooms.

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Lewis, C., Watson, M. and Schaps, E. (1999) ‘Recapturing education’s full mission: Educating for social, ethical, and intellectual development’. In C.M. Reigeluth (ed.), Instructional Design Theories and Models: A New Paradigm of Instructional Theory. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, 511–36. Linnenbrink, E.A. and Pintrich, P.R. (2003) ‘The role of self-efficacy in student engagement and learning in the classroom’. Reading and Writing Quarterly: Overcoming Learning Difficulties 19, 2: 119–37. MacBeath, J., Galton, M., Steward, S., MacBeath, A. and Page, C. (2006) The Costs of Inclusion: A Study of Inclusion Policy and Practice in English Primary, Secondary and Special Schools. Cambridge: University of Cambridge. Masten, A.S. (1994) ‘Resilience in individual development: Successful adaptation despite risk and adversity’. In M.C. Wang and E.W. Gordon (eds), Educational Resilience in Inner-city America: Challenges and Prospects. Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum, 3–25. ——(2001) ‘Ordinary magic: Resilience processes in development’. American Psychologist 56: 227–38. Mental Health Foundation of Australia (2005) ‘What Schools Can Do To Promote Resiliency’, www. yuschoolpartnership.org/student-support/social-emotional/88-articles/382-what-schools-can-do-to-pro mote-resiliency (accessed 6 March 2012). Muijs, D. and Reynolds, D. (2005) Effective Teaching: Evidence and Practice, second edn. London: Sage Publications. Ofsted (2007) Inclusion: Does it Matter where Pupils are Taught? London: Office for Standards in Education. O’Regan, F. (2010) ‘Exclusion from school and attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder’. International Journal of Emotional Education 2(2): 3–18. Parsons, C., Hayden, C., Godfrey, R., Howlett, K. and Martin, T. (2001) ‘Excluding primary school children – the outcomes six years on’. Pastoral Care in Education 19(4): 4–15. Pianta, R. (1999) Enhancing Relationships Between Children and Teachers. Washington, DC: American Psychological Association. Pianta, R.C. and Walsh, D.J. (1998) ‘Applying the construct of resilience in schools: cautions from a developmental systems perspective’. School Psychology Review 27(3): 407–17. Rees, P. and Bailey, K. (2003) ‘Positive exceptions: Learning from students who beat the odds’. Educational and Child Psychology 20(4): 41–59. Rutter, M. and the English and Romanian Adoptees Study Team (1998) ‘Developmental catch-up, and deficit, following adoption after severe global early privation’. Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry 39: 465–76. Sapon-Shevin, M. (2005) ‘Ability differences in the classroom: Teaching and learning in inclusive classrooms’. In D. Byrnes and G. Kiger (eds), Common Bonds: Anti-Bias Teaching in a Diverse Society, third edn. Wheaton, MD: Association for Childhood Education International. Solomon, D., Battistisch, V., Watson, M., Schaps, E. and Lewis, C. (2000) ‘A six district study of educational change: Direct and mediated effects of the child development project’. Social Psychology of Education 4: 3–51. Watkins, C. (2003) Learning: A Sense-maker’s Guide. London: Association of Teachers and Lecturers. Waxman, H.C., Brown, A. and Chang, H. (2004) ‘Future directions for educational resiliency research’. In H.C. Waxman, Y.N. Padron and J.P. Gray (eds), Educational Resiliency: Student, Teacher, and School Perspectives. Greenwich, CT: Information Age Publishing. Wentzel, K.R. (1998) ‘Social relationships and motivation in middle school: the role of parents, teachers, and peers’. Journal of Educational Psychology 90(2): 202–9. Werner, E. and Smith, R. (1992) Overcoming the Odds: High-risk Children from Birth to Adulthood. New York: Cornell University Press. Willms, J.D. (2003) Student Engagement at School: A Sense of Belonging and Participation. Results from PISA 2000. Paris: OECD.

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22 Reducing emotional and behavioural difficulties in students by improving school ethos Marilyn Tew and James Park

The need for schools to focus as much attention on overall ethos as on providing targeted support for individuals has been a consistent theme in the literatures on tackling emotional and behavioural difficulties and promoting positive mental health. The argument is that the way individual students behave in school results from an interaction between how they experience school life and the impact of their personal histories, and that messages which affect the way young people feel and behave are picked up both from what is explicitly taught and what is implicit in the way they are treated. A meta-analytical study of primary intervention mental health programmes in both primary and secondary phases of education supported the need to focus on the context in which programmes are delivered as much as on the quality of the programmes themselves (Durlak and Wells 1997). The most effective programmes were generally found to be those that had an impact on the school’s ethos, and this came from their being fully supported by the leadership and policies of the school. A report commissioned a decade ago by the UK Department for Education and Skills on ‘what works in promoting children’s social and emotional competence’ (Weare and Gray 2003) drew on this body of evidence to stress the importance of adopting a holistic approach to the issue: ‘There is strong evidence to suggest’, it said, ‘that the school environment is the largest determinant of the level of emotional and social competence and wellbeing in pupils and teachers’ (Weare and Gray 2003: 7). Such an environment was seen as one that was built around a commitment to fostering warm relationships, promoting participation, developing staff and student autonomy, and creating clarity about boundaries, rules and positive expectations. This holistic perspective offered a profound challenge to those who had hoped to ‘fix the problem’ with a single structured ‘model’ that would work across all schools.

Social and Emotional Aspects of Learning (SEAL) Weare and Gray (2003) provided the organising framework for what came to be called the Social and Emotional Aspects of Learning (SEAL) strategy. This was implemented in primary and secondary schools in England between its launch in 2004 and the arrival of a new government in 193

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May 2010. By the end of this period, around 90 per cent of primary schools and 70 per cent of secondary schools were said to have adopted some elements of the strategy. The architects of SEAL sought to find a balance between providing schools with what they found it most easy to adopt—a curriculum focused on the emotional underpinnings of behaviour— and the sort of whole-school approach that research had shown would be effective in changing that behaviour. The SEAL curriculum for primary schools and Year 7 (pupils aged 11 to 12) in secondaries was organised around seven themes and focused on five social and emotional aspects of learning (self-awareness, managing feelings, motivation, empathy and social skills). Staff were given guidance and training (from local authority advisers and others), which emphasised the need to fit this curriculum into a ‘comprehensive, whole-school approach’ (DCSF 2007: 4). The intention was to be permissive rather than prescriptive about how SEAL was implemented, so as to encourage each school to find what worked for them. This approach recognised that achieving the best outcomes relied as much on empowering teachers and other members of staff to shape their own way of working, as on the inherent quality of the programmes adopted. Alongside the spiral curriculum, there were structured programmes of small group work designed to assist children who needed more support in developing the skills that would enable them to integrate with other children in SEAL-focused activities. The programme design also came to recognise the need for one-to-one interventions with children who did not benefit from wholeschool and small-group provision. These interventions were implemented as part of the Targeted Mental Health in Schools programme (TaMHS). At a secondary level, there was an even stronger emphasis on incorporating social and emotional learning into other curricular subjects, and building a school ethos that provided conditions for promoting social and emotional learning. Compared with a curriculum-based approach, a wholeschool approach can appear rather vague and diffuse if it is not clearly presented and underpinned with relevant training for teachers. Certainly one evaluation team observed, with regret, that SEAL was, ‘essentially what individual schools made of it rather than being a single, consistently definable entity’ (Humphrey et al. 2010: 7). For the most part, teachers and school leaders responded with enthusiasm to SEAL. They welcomed the opportunity to engage with the complexities of what was going on in the classroom, and sometimes within the school as a whole, and to look at the relational dynamics inherent in the processes of learning. SEAL provided an opportunity to move away from the simplistic thinking implicit in many of the educational initiatives implemented by government over the previous two decades, and to reconnect with core values around educational purpose. However, SEAL’s broad and flexible approach also led to a lack of clarity in its dissemination and made it hard to evaluate it in a way that would provide the sort of evidence of impact on behaviour and learning needed to satisfy policy-makers. Particular problems were that:  Broad multi-faceted approaches to change are inherently more difficult to evaluate than structured programmes, particularly when they actively encourage people to adopt their own approach to achieving particular goals.  It was difficult to differentiate between schools delivering the strategy in the originally intended way (combining curricular approaches with attention to whole-school ethos) and those that only took on particular aspects of the work without setting it in a whole-school context (Humphrey et al. 2010).  Delivery was heavily dependent on high-quality training and sustained support.  The changes brought about by a particular intervention may happen imperceptibly over time, and may take more time to emerge than is allowed for by the evaluation. This latter point is particularly relevant to larger secondary schools which tend to be less responsive to change. 194

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The difficulty of resolving these problems is evident in the evaluations of the SEAL programme commissioned by England’s Department for Education.

Evaluations of SEAL Hallam et al. (2006) evaluated the pilot project and Hallam (2009) undertook a second evaluation after four years’ delivery in primary schools. The second study found all responding head teachers, 87 per cent of teachers and 96 per cent of non-teaching staff agreeing that the programme promoted the emotional well-being of children, while 82 per cent of teachers agreed that it increased pupils’ ability to control emotions. Children were perceived as: being more supportive of each other; having stronger relationships; developing vocabulary to talk about emotions; taking more personal responsibility for their actions and becoming better at sharing, taking turns and seeing things from other people’s point of view. Teachers reported that when the children knew they had to take responsibility and resolve issues themselves, it changed their awareness and behaviour. The programme led to better identification of students unable to participate in the programme’s activities because of their level of disaffection. The evaluators observed that it was impossible to link these reported improvements in behaviour and learning back to the delivery of the curriculum materials themselves; the more general focus on understanding and addressing emotional issues might have been what had an impact. This was, of course, just what those designing the programme had intended. Humphrey et al. (2008) studied the small group work that supported primary SEAL, making a systematic attempt (involving 624 pupils and using a comparison group) to link shifts in children’s social and emotional skills, emotional well-being and behaviour to particular elements of the SEAL programme. This evaluation found statistically significant evidence of the positive impact of primary SEAL small-group work in at least one measurement domain, but conceded that ‘the average effect size for statistically significant evidence of positive impact was small’ (Humphrey et al. 2008: 92). This was backed up by parents, who reported ‘no statistically significant evidence of positive impact in any of the four interventions examined as part of this evaluation’ (Humphrey et al. 2008: 7). Humphrey et al. (2010) evaluated SEAL in secondary schools. Their analysis of pupil climate scores indicated a significant increase in pupils’ feelings of autonomy and influence. They collected anecdotal reports of positive changes such as reductions in exclusions and more specific improvements in behaviour, interpersonal skills and relationships. However, they concluded that the programme ‘failed to impact significantly upon pupils’ social and emotional skills, general mental health difficulties, pro-social behaviour or behaviour problems’ (Humphrey et al. 2010: 2). These researchers concluded that the adoption of an organic, environmental, whole-school approach to developing SEAL had been a mistake. It would have been better, they said, to have implemented a targeted, structured programme for students with behavioural difficulties. They called for ‘future school-based social and emotional learning difficulties to more accurately reflect the research literature about “what works” in this area—namely the provision of structure and consistency in programme delivery, and the adherence to SAFE (Sequenced, Active, Focused, Explicit) principles (Humphrey et al. 2010: 5). They concluded that careful monitoring of fidelity in the delivery of such programmes would be essential to ensuring more positive outcomes. This judgement was made without revisiting the evidence for the impact of the emotional environment on behaviour. Yet the dismissal led to journalists arguing that the programme had not been grounded in evidence. This provided support to the inclination of England’s new coalition government to abandon what its critics have dubbed ‘therapeutic education’ (Ecclestone and Hayes 2008). 195

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A different perspective Banerjee (2010) looked at these issues from a different perspective. He tracked 32 primary and 24 secondary schools as they took part in SEAL to see whether the SEAL strategy had any impact on ethos, and whether it was possible to establish a link between ethos and behaviour. Banerjee’s report found that a school was more likely to have a positive ethos to the extent that it was actively engaged in SEAL. Active engagement meant a cross-school programme of SEAL learning opportunities for all pupils; an integrated approach to SEAL behaviour and wellbeing; and SEAL responsibilities being delegated to all staff within a clear management structure. The report further found that where schools had a more positive ethos, pupils were more likely to report positively on their peer interactions; the Office for Standards in Education (Ofsted) was more likely to give the school a high rating for behaviour, and higher attainment was reported in Standard Assessment Tests (SATs) at age 11 (in primary schools) or General Certificate of Secondary Education (GCSE)1 grades at age 16 (in secondary schools).

Addressing ethos Banerjee’s project left open the question of how far these links came from the school having an ethos that was conducive to the full adoption of SEAL, and how far the adoption of SEAL itself changed the ethos. There remains a need to understand how school ethos can change, and how those changes affect behaviour. The authors of this chapter have spent a decade developing an approach to improving behaviour and learning in schools that focuses on improving ethos through a values-focused conversation. Rather than providing curriculum materials and guidelines on how to create a better ethos, as SEAL does, the Antidote PROGRESS Programme (APP) starts from the lived experience of everyone who works in schools. It then engages them in a conversation about how to make things even better (Park and Tew 2008a, 2008b, 2008c). The aim of APP is to improve the emotional experience of all staff and students, so that they can be even more purposefully engaged in teaching and learning. It does this by enabling staff and students to reflect together on their experience of school in a way that evolves a set of shared values, a sense of common purpose and a direction that wins support, including from students with emotional and behavioural difficulties (EBD). In this way the APP overcomes the accusation of vagueness that was levelled at secondary SEAL (Humphrey et al. 2010: 7). Our findings agree with those of Daniels et al. (1999), who wrote that an emphasis on values was central to developing good practice for pupils with EBD. The writers argued that the precise nature of these values was less important than the fact that the values of the school were talked about, clearly understood and supported by staff. The authors emphasised the importance of schools being reflective about what is actually happening and how far it matches what is thought to be happening. There was a need to have a core of dedicated staff who were developing and actively promoting the values, ethos and aspirations of the school. APP uses a framework for understanding people’s engagement in school life that emerged from research (Haddon et al. 2005) and is summarised by the acronym CLASI. This stands for:  Capable: whether the school makes people feel as if others want them to achieve and have a positive experience.  Listened to: whether or not people feel that the way they are listened to produces the capacity to bring about change for themselves and the wider community. 196

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 Accepted: whether the school makes people feel comfortable enough to be themselves, rather than forcing them to shape themselves around peer or role expectations.  Safe: both emotionally and physically.  Included: whether the school makes people feel valued for the distinctive role they play in their community. The CLASI framework is measured using the Baseline Environment for Learning Survey (ELS) and applied to different aspects of the ways in which adults and children experience their school: the quality of relationships, of communication and basic organisation. People’s perceptions of these factors are sought by a variety of methods, including anonymous online questionnaires, focus groups and whole-staff consultation. The process allows for reflection between consultation events, which leads to a deepening in the quality of thinking over time. The focus shifts gradually from what is happening to why it is happening and then to strategies for making things better. The sense that everyone is involved in this process at some level, and that it has the power to bring about change, is what produces its impact.

The ethos challenge Data collected from 41,000 students at 129 schools (80 secondary, 49 primary) using the ELS show the scale of the challenge that the SEAL strategy sought to address (Figure 22.1). It reveals a steady decline in the extent to which students report that they experience their environment as one that enables them to feel capable, listened to, accepted, safe and included (CLASI). This decline is most sharply seen between Years 7 and 8, but continues into Year 9, before showing a small upwards turn into Years 10 and 11 at ages 15 and 16. In Year 9, at age 14, less than one-third of student responses to questions about their experience of school are scored at the top two scoring ranges—i.e. almost always feeling that their school experience makes them feel CLASI. It is clear that if the majority of student scores

Figure 22.1 Percentage of CLASI scores of 5 or 6 for students aged 7–18 197

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indicate school to be a less than positive experience, the impact on those who experience emotional and behavioural difficulties will be even greater. Disengagement from school certainly impacts on behaviour, but perhaps a more serious implication is its effect on learning. One of the authors has discovered that when young people conceptualise ‘being able to do well at school’, they use entirely personal and social constructs of the learning environment. These seem to form the bedrock on which cognitive engagement is built (Tew 2002, 2009). Whereas many students can tolerate a degree of disengagement from school, some do not have the necessary resilience or skills. Many students express a disinterest in school, but are still able to comply with the demands of teaching and learning. The way they behave does not reveal how they feel. What they reveal through their scoring of a perceptual questionnaire does not equate with their behaviour in school. An observer of how they participate in school life would probably score their engagement more positively than they score themselves. Where there is strong disaffection, however, the scores are very low and are reflected in behaviour exhibiting disengagement from the school as an organisation, and the adults who work there. Similar shifts in young people’s felt experience of school are noted in two of the reports previously cited. Banerjee (2010) found that there were significant declines from primary to secondary phase in pupil and staff ratings of: social and emotional ethos; teacher attitude and involvement; and staff ratings of pupil behaviour and attitudes towards learning. Humphrey et al. (2010) reported reductions in pupils’ trust and respect for teachers, their liking for school and feelings of classroom and school supportiveness. Some argue that this shift is entirely age-related, that the onset of adolescence produces growing disaffection, which is only turned in a more positive direction as the developmental tasks of puberty finish, and the arrival of GCSE pressure creates an extrinsic incentive to focus on learning. The positive trend then continues as those students who are anyway more actively engaged in learning move into the sixth form. This, though, is not the interpretation that young people put on the data. They describe to us a situation where their experience of school moves in the opposite direction to their developmental expectations. As they start to look for greater freedom, widening curriculum opportunities and more active engagement in learning—so that they can expand their sense of personal agency—what they are offered is in increasingly rigorous focus on ‘getting through the curriculum’. If their inclination is to rebel, the school is likely to respond with ever-more rigorous forms of control. This explains the breakdown in trust demonstrated by the declining CLASI scores. The data suggest that in targeting school ethos, SEAL was trying to turn back strong downward pressures on levels of student engagement. Unsurprisingly, staff and leaders had to be highly involved in delivering the strategy for it to have any impact—and that impact took time to show through.

Focusing on ethos The APP data, collected from schools over successive years, provide some insight into what it takes to change school ethos and help understand how the SEAL strategy might have had an impact on school ethos. Currently, these data are mostly from primary schools. The primary school data (Figures 22.2 –22.5)show that it is possible quite quickly to achieve a significant increase in the number of staff responses in the highest score categories (5 or 6 out of a scoring range of 1–6). This is easier to achieve in schools where starting levels are close to the average for primary schools (schools A and B below), than in schools where those levels are significantly lower (schools C and D). 198

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Figure 22.2 Primary school A, % CLASI scores of 5 or 6 in successive years: staff

Figure 22.3 Primary school B, % CLASI scores of 5 or 6 in successive years: staff

In schools A and B, staff reported more positively on their emotional experience of working there after one year of focused attention on how ‘CLASI’ the school made them feel. The move was from a position that was close to the average for all staff at the primary schools in the APP database, to one that was considerably above it. In school C the positive effect increased into a third year, although in this case the reported levels stayed below the average for all primary schools. 199

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Figure 22.4 Primary school C, % CLASI scores of 5 or 6 in successive years: staff

Figure 22.5 Primary school D, % CLASI scores of 5 or 6 in successive years: staff

In school D there was a downward movement in the second year. Staff explained this as a result of the unease and disturbance caused by the school becoming part of a federation, and its head teacher taking on responsibility for a second school. In the third year this trend was reversed, and scores were even higher than before the changes occurred. The speed with which staff respond to a positive focus on improving their experience of school seems to mirror the enthusiastic response of many staff to the introduction of the SEAL 200

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programme. People talked of welcoming the opportunity to think about what enables them to work well together, and to deliver an even better experience of learning for children, rather than simply focusing on the technical aspects of pedagogy and what will bring about higher levels of attainment. Data from one secondary school (Figure 22.6) shows the same trend as in primary schools, with the scoring going from below average for all secondary staff in our database to above it, in the course of a year’s work.

Impact across aspects of school life The Environment for Learning Survey (ELS) also produces reports to help explain what accounts for the improved overall scores. The biggest impact is on the staff’s relationships with each other (Adults), and their sense of being able to talk about the things that are important to their work in the school (Opportunity). In primary school A the average score for relationships with each other went up 36 per cent in one year; in primary school B, 26 per cent. In primary school C, the score was 10 per cent higher in Year 3 than in Year 1. In primary school D, the score was 23 per cent higher. Staff reported some movement in the scores for relationships with students in the classroom, but the impact was smaller—12 per cent in primary school A, 10 per cent in school B, 14 per cent in school C, and 5 per cent in school D (Figures 22.7–22.10). There were similar findings for one of our secondary schools, where a 43 per cent increase in the scoring for relationships with adults sat alongside a 19 per cent increase in the scoring for classroom relationships (Figure 22.11). This indication that changes at staff level take some time to work their way through into changes for children is mirrored in the way students report on how ‘CLASI’ they feel through time. APP suggests that students are very sensitive to the mood created by the adults in the school. They pick up on conflicts between particular individuals or high levels in stress in teachers. In

Figure 22.6 Secondary school, % CLASI scores of 5 or 6 in successive years: staff 201

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Figure 22.7 Average rating of key relationship factors at primary school A: staff

Figure 22.8 Average rating of key relationship factors at primary school B: staff

reality, anecdotal reports from school leaders that students are better behaved, more focused on learning and happier in school are not actually reflected in how children report on how CLASI they feel. In schools B and D described above, there was some upward movement in student ratings of the emotional environment, but it was not proportionate to the change in staff perceptions. In school C the students’ perceptions of how CLASI the school made them feel lagged behind that of staff by a year. Student scoring dropped in the third year of the survey, following a drop in staff scoring the previous year. In school A the small shift in student perceptions was perplexing to the head teacher. She thought the atmosphere around students had been transformed. When APP started in the school, she reported, ‘Year 5 and Year 6 children were quite out of control. They barricaded teachers in classrooms, 202

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Figure 22.9 Average rating of key relationship factors at primary school C: staff

Figure 22.10 Average rating of key relationship factors at primary school D: staff

threw furniture around and threatened to bring knives into school. Behaviour was a serious concern and there were gang issues coming into the school’. Many students reported feeling unsafe, both in the classroom around other children and in their relationship with adults. A year later, they still spoke about feeling unsafe, but the situations they were describing were completely different. She said: We realized that what they’d have spoken about in 2007 as a behaviour issue would be ‘Tommy threatened to stab me in the night’ or ‘someone’s thrown a chair through the window’. Now it would be ‘children were naughty when we played in the playground this morning’. Their baseline for what was acceptable behaviour had changed. (Head teacher, school A) 203

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Figure 22.11 Average rating of key relationship factors at secondary school: staff

Figure 22.12 Primary school A, % CLASI scores of 5–6 in successive years: students

These data suggest that student perceptions of the emotional environment do change, but only slowly and a long way behind the adults in the school. Students’ descriptions of school life often overlook the fact that something was changed six months or longer before. It is unsurprising that students respond more slowly. They are less directly involved in change than staff are, and have little experience of other organisations to set beside their current school experience. If, therefore, we want to measure the impact of programmes such as SEAL on school ethos, particularly in the short term, the reports of adults who set that ethos are likely to be more useful than those of children. 204

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Figure 22.13 Primary school B, % CLASI scores of 5–6 in successive years: students

Figure 22.14 Primary school C, % CLASI scores of 5–6 in successive years: students

Conclusion The data provided from APP are in need of greater validation across a larger sample. However, they suggest an explanation of why some evaluations of SEAL did not yield strong results. Ethos is the key to an improved sense of well-being for staff and students, as measured by feeling ‘CLASI’. It is staff well-being that responds first to a whole-school focus on what 205

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Figure 22.15 Primary school D, % CLASI scores of 5–6 in successive years: students

enhances and inhibits people feeling CLASI in school, i.e. their sense of well-being and their ability to create supportive professional relationships with colleagues and students. Only when staff are reporting more positively on their emotional experience of the school does there seem to be any impact on the perceptions of students. Students’ perceptions of positive change also lag at least a year behind staff perceptions. This lag is further complicated by the way students accommodate to the status quo and respond in the moment rather than making comparisons with an historical situation. As in primary school A, the children’s perceptions of what is ‘acceptable’ or ‘normal’ changed in line with the general expectations of the whole school ethos. They therefore did not perceive the dramatic behavioural changes observed by the adults in the school. Banerjee’s (2010) report on SEAL tracker schools demonstrates that enabling staff and students to find a reflective space to think about school life enables them to move forward together. The findings from APP suggest that when a school canvasses the perceptions of everyone in a school, and then uses these data to develop an ethos that enables people to feel ‘CLASI’, staff and students feel supported in all the activities of teaching and learning. A CLASI ethos provides the safety to form more connected, respectful and valuing relationship where people can talk about anything that inhibits development and positive change. Paying attention to the broader aspects of school life, summed up by the term ‘ethos’, can over time lead to greater co-operation, increased engagement with school and higher achievement. In such a situation there are likely to be far fewer children manifesting EBD, and it will be easier to address the needs of those who do.

Note 1 In their last year of compulsory schooling, most pupils in England and Wales take GCSE examinations in a range of subjects. 206

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References Banerjee, R. (2010) Social and Emotional Aspects of Learning in Schools: A Report on Data from the National Strategies Tracker School Project. Brighton: University of Sussex. Daniels, H., Visser, J., Cole, T. and de Reybekill, N. (1999) Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties in Mainstream Schools. London, UK: Department for Education and Employment. DCSF (Department for Children, Schools and Families) (2007) Social and Emotional Aspects of Learning for Secondary Schools. Nottingham: DCSF Publications. Durlak, J.A. and Wells, A.M. (1997) ‘Primary prevention mental health programmes for children and adolescents: a meta-analytic review’. American Journal of Community Psychology 25(2): 115–52. Ecclestone, K. and Hayes, D. (2008) The Dangerous Rise of Therapeutic Education. London: Routledge. Haddon, A., Goodman, H., Park, J., Deakin Crick, R. (2005) ‘Evaluating emotional literacy in schools: the development of the emotional environment for learning Survey’. Pastoral Care in Education 23(4): 5–16. Hallam, S. (2009) ‘An evaluation of the Social and Emotional Aspects of Learning (SEAL) programme: promoting positive behaviour, effective learning and well-being in primary school children’. Oxford Review of Education 35(3): 313–39. Hallam, S., Rhamie, J. and Shaw, J. (2006) Evaluation of the Primary Behaviour and Attendance Pilot. London: Department for Education and Skills. Humphrey, N., Kalambouka, A., Bolton, J., Lendrum, A., Wigelsworth, M., Lennie, C. and Farrell, P. (2008) Primary Social and Emotional Aspects of Learning (SEAL): Evaluation of Small Group Work. London: Department for Children, Schools and Families. Humphrey, N., Lendrum, A., Wigelsworth, M. (2010) Social and emotional aspects of learning (SEAL) programme in secondary schools: national evaluation. London: Department for Children, Schools and Families. Park, J. and Tew, M. (2008a) ‘Shaping an emotionally literate curriculum’. Curriculum Briefing 6(1): 45–51. ——(2008b) ‘Building the drive to succeed’. Curriculum Briefing 6(3): 7–11. ——(2008c) ‘In the right mind: feeling ready for learning’. Curriculum Briefing (7)1: 23–7. Smith, P., O’Donnell, L. and Easton, C. (2007) Secondary Social, Emotional and Behavioural Skills (SEBS) Pilot Evaluation. London: NfER. Tew, M. (2002) The Lifeworld of Year 7 Pupils: Personal Development and Learning. (Unpublished doctoral thesis) University of Bristol. ——(2009) ‘Social and emotional aspects of learning in secondary schools: The use of circle time’. In Marian de Souza, Leslie Francis, James O’Higgins-Norman (eds), International Handbook of Education for Spirituality, Care and Wellbeing. London: Springer, 1011–27. Weare, K. and Gray, G. (2003) What Works in Developing Children’s Emotional and Social Competence and Wellbeing? London, UK: Department for Education and Skills.

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23 Violence in schools Its nature and effective responses to it Eric Debarbieux and Catherine Blaya

The violent conduct of some children and young people is the factor that destabilizes schools and worries the general public more than any other (Darmame and Vulbeau 2006; Debarbieux 2008). This chapter examines the nature of this violence, explores its causes and consequences, and outlines the effectiveness or otherwise of strategies used to confront it.

The nature, consequences and prevalence of violence in schools Repeated violence Beyond infamous events which made headline news and which make the public fear more frequent brutal and aggressive behaviour in schools, violence in schools and, in particular, the violence associated with victimisation, is generally of a minor but repetitive nature. Nevertheless, its consequences should not be underestimated. School massacres such as the shootings at Columbine High School in 1999 caused considerable fright across the world. Yet such tragic, lethal events have not become commonplace and school communities generally remain safe, protected places. There are 50 times more homicides of young people outside schools than within them. Far from the risk increasing, there has in fact been a reduction in the number of deaths in American schools since 1999 (from 33 in 1999 to 21 in 2009—Roberts et al. 2010). While not underestimating its seriousness, criminality in school environments remains limited and being the victim of serious violence is very rare. For pupils as well as for teachers, being a victim usually consists of repeated minor incidents (Gottfredson 2001). An international consensus exists for the definition of school violence to be extended to include a broad spectrum of actions rather than to restrict it to physical and criminal violence (Vettenburg 1998; Gottfredson 2001). The definition should take into account more minor incidents such as verbal violence, jostling and fights. Examined separately, these minor incidents are not dramatic. However, the situation changes when there is frequent repetition of these small acts of aggression, particularly when the same persons are either the victims or perpetrators of these acts. At this level, these acts meet the standards for the internationally accepted term ‘school bullying’. This concept looks beyond physical brutality and takes into account comparatively minor 208

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events such as making fun of others. Bullying is repeated violence—verbal, physical or psychological—perpetuated by one or several pupils against a defenceless and weak victim. The aggressor acts with the intention of hurting the victim (Smith and Sharp 1994). School bullying is related to the gathering within an educational setting of groups of young people who sometimes put painful pressure on other individuals usually from their own age group. Recently, the emergence of cyberbullying and cyberviolence has extended and intensified opportunities for this repeated harassment. There occur other situations, also specific to the school environment, where bullying happens. There can be violence between adults and pupils, whether it is the violence of pupils towards staff or that of staff towards pupils. Most commonly, however, violence in schools is exemplified by repeated minor instances of bullying or rudeness—all of which can be termed micro-violence.

The consequences of violence at school The repetition of this micro-violence has consequences for the victims’ mental health and can lead, for instance, to nervous breakdowns or suicide attempts (Hawker and Boulton 2000; Blaya 2010). Furthermore, the child-victims have more negative opinions of their school, are absent more frequently and their attainment in class falls below average (Smith and Sharp 1994). Recent research has shown that the long-term effects also affect the aggressors (Farrington and Ttofi 2011). This study, looking at a cohort ranging from eight to 48 years of age, indicated that the lives of aggressors/abusers were marked by violence, crime and personal failure. Often unemployed or in poorly paid and unrewarding jobs, the chronic abusers seem to have had more difficulties in developing positive interpersonal relations as adults. With reference to the most serious violence, research undertaken by the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) (Vossekuil et al. 2002) indicates that harassment suffered at school plays an important role in explaining school shootings. This research showed that 78 per cent of all ‘school shooters’ (perpetrators of shootings in schools) were victims themselves of ill-treatment by other pupils. The fear of some pupils, which developed while they suffered from the aggression of others, is one of the reasons for these young people coming into school carrying weapons. Ill treatment of pupils by other children and young people can influence the entire climate of a classroom or even a school. Finnish research (Salmivalli and Voeten 2004) indicates that groups of children who are witnesses to harassment have a negative attitude towards school and are suspicious of teachers who are unable to protect pupils.

The prevalence of violence in school environments Measures of the prevalence of school violence are far from complete in most countries. First, only 9 per cent of instances of violent aggression against teenagers at school are reported to the police, compared to 37 per cent committed on the streets. The school institution has a tendency to treat the crimes on an in-house basis, play them down or even hide them (NCES 2002). To compensate for common inadequacies in school leaders’ responses to victimisation, there have been a number of inquiries in educational settings. The key purpose of the latter has been to ask a sample of children to describe the kinds of violence (types of victimisation) they have experienced. Numerous studies help to establish the prevalence of bullying. The success of the questionnaire devised by the Scandinavian Dan Olweus (1993, 1978) led a number of researchers to investigate the views of sizeable samples of pupils in other countries. These studies show that the prevalence of bullying, though varying between different countries, is usually between 4 and 6 per cent for bullies and between 6 and 15 per cent for the bullied. 209

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Another example was Janosz et al. (2009), who inquired into violence in schools in Quebec, using a large sample (57,684 pupils and 5,151 adults). Their study showed different kinds of victimisation: verbal violence (13.3 per cent of girls and 20.2 per cent of boys), as well as physical violence (2.9 per cent of girls and 10.3 per cent of boys). The victimisation of teachers is another important part of violence at school, although it is less widespread than victimisation of pupils and is mostly verbal. According to the Quebec inquiry, 19.8 per cent of the secondary school teachers had been insulted once in a year, 10.4 per cent twice and 8.8 per cent three times or more, but 61 per cent had never been insulted; 3.7 per cent had been the recipients of physical aggression once, 1.2 per cent twice and 0.1 per cent three times or more, while 95 per cent had never been physically attacked. The locational variability of aggression against teachers is important (Gottfredson 2001). It ranged from 17 per cent of teachers in the difficult urban districts to less than 2 per cent in the rural areas. Violence in school communities is rarely the act of intruders. In all studies less than 10 per cent of violent acts are perpetrated by persons coming from outside the school.

Internal or external causes? The main models for explaining violence in schools do indicate the importance of factors from beyond the school gates. However, these explanations must not conceal or divert attention from the importance of internal factors, which link to the organization and ethos of the schools.

Personal factors Pupils’ character traits may determine whether they become victims or aggressors. There is a consensus amongst researchers over some characteristics, for example, gender. Boys are much more exposed to the risk of being victims or aggressors (Royer 2010), although this is not a question of biological fate and does not mean that the girls cannot also be aggressors. There is a second consensus over the strong relationship between pupils’ underachievement in class and violence. Also violence links to some children’s difficulties in analysing social relationships and to their lack of empathy (Vitaro and Gagnon 2000). Children who are smaller, weaker, shy or depressed are more often victims (Voss and Mulligan 2000). Research into teenage boys and girls who are homosexual or considered as such by their peers showed a clear link with brutal or verbal victimisation (Benbenishty and Astor 2005). These same studies, along with French research by Blaya (2010), highlight that victimisation can also be linked with children being intellectually precocious or simply studious.

Family factors Inadequate child-rearing practices are characterised by some parents’ very limited engagement in their child’s activities, by parental ignorance of what their children do, by inconsistent boundary setting and by disciplinary practices that are punitive or coercive (Kazdin 1995). Permissive parenting is linked to the risk of children developing behaviour problems (Fortin 2003), but the correlation is much stronger with an excessively authoritarian parenting style (Dumas 1999), particularly one where corporal punishment is used. Inconsistent parenting, where there is a lack of clear rules or where rigidity and indifference alternate, is also a risk factor. In contrast, it seems that children who are overprotected by their close relatives do not develop sufficient assertiveness, which has a tendency to make them weak and susceptible to victimisation (Olweus 1993). 210

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Socio-economic factors The poor socioeconomic status of some families is strongly associated with aggressive behaviour. In the systematic study of Hawkins et al. (2000), poverty is a convincing explanatory factor for the early onset of problems in children who are 6–11 years old. However, in relation to harassment at school, socioeconomic factors do not explain everything and could be very peripheral (Olweus 1993). Nevertheless, it can safely be said that economic factors can be aggravating factors.

Peer influence The authors’ study in France of self-reported crime (Debarbieux and Blaya 2009a) found that the majority of peer groups are friendly, protecting members from violence. However, 8 per cent of pupils admit to belonging to a delinquent group, and after becoming part of that group, the violence of individuals increases considerably. Then truanting, disciplinary problems, school suspension and finally the abandonment of their education follow. Identification with groups of delinquent peers has for a long time been recognized as one of the factors most correlated with juvenile delinquency (Cusson 2002).

Factors associated with school School climate or ethos may contribute to the increase of oppositional and other behavioural problems in pupils (Kasen et al. 1990). On the other hand, some schools’ whole-school and classroom climates are more resistant to violent acts happening than others (Salmivalli and Voeten 2004). Protective factors, which promote and maintain an appropriate school climate, are associated with:    

adults demonstrating a collaborative style of working; the presence of a clear and coherent disciplinary system; stable, low-turnover teaching teams (Gottfredson 2001); and community activities organised in the school with the cooperation of the parents (Benbenishty and Astor 2005).

Violence is also related to school size (increasing where there are very large numbers of pupils) and to large teaching groups (Walker and Gresham 1997). However, class size may not be sufficient explanation by itself—note the common tendency to group pupils with difficulties in smaller classes and the correlation between grouping pupils in classes of the same ability level with an increase in victimisation (Eith 2005). School atmosphere/ethos is a predictor of the success of intervention programme implementation. Statistically, the most convincing factors of increased victimisation are instability in the teaching team (frequent changes in staff personnel) and lack of clarity or injustice in the application of rules (Payne et al. 2006). It is important that all staff agree on how school rules should be applied. A common, whole-school vision is a crucial condition that must guide intervention to help to prevent violence.

How to prevent violence in school With regard to actions required to prevent violence at school, there is useful scientific data. Debarbieux and Blaya (2009b) looked at evaluations from a complete review of literature covering 1990 to 211

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2008. This review took into account 17 meta-analyses and 27 reviews on the subject, making a total of nearly 2,200 evaluations (for instance, Gottfredson 2003; Hawker and Boulton 2000; Smith et al. 2005; Wilson and Lipsey 2007).

Ineffective interventions Among the ineffective strategies, several types of programmes are described. The first category consists of grouping together pupils or young people with difficulties in special classes or grouping them by specific activities. For instance, reviews of ‘boot camps’ show that these are ineffective (Bottcher and Ezell 2005). It was proved long ago that there is a risk of ‘contagion’ when grouping together young people in trouble with ‘the law’ and that this increases the number of their criminal acts (Cusson 2002). The second category of ineffective measures is linked to the physical protection of schools, for instance metal detectors at the entrance to the school. The pernicious effects of this approach are known: they breed resentment and make pupils feel increasing contempt, especially when coupled with approaches such as the searching of school bags (Beger 2003). Likewise, video surveillance has been widely assessed (not only at the school level), and the results are disappointing: video surveillance only reduces crime in a marginal manner (Welsh and Farrington 2002). Physical means of protecting schools should not be dismissed, but it seems that human and relationship factors are more important. Third, inappropriate attitudes and/or practice towards pupils are also ineffective. These include: excessive punishments (Gottfredson 2003); behavioural methods used without attention to the cognitive; simple individual ‘lessons of morality’; under-promotion of school success; and ‘zero tolerance’ (APA 2006).

Effective approaches Conditions for effective programmes are well described by Wilson and Lipsey (2007). Their research helps to answer important questions. They ask, is it better to work:    

with all children; with target groups within a school; in special classes or special schools; or by multimodal interventions which try to act simultaneously on the school, the child and the family?

The answers are clear. There is limited proof of effectiveness for special classes or special schools, but the positive effects for some universal, multimodal and targeted programmes can be measured. When considering options, it is intervention in the ordinary school environment that is most effective. Effective actions happen at three different levels of violence prevention. Universal programmes should focus first on the entire school, second on the class, and third on individuals. At the first level, the most effective intervention programmes follow the same path:    

they establish easily read and fair norms; encourage positive reinforcement of behaviour; promote co-operative management; reorganise classes to create more flexibility;

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 relax rigid timetabling; and  strengthen the cohesiveness of the school. Restorative justice is also widely recommended (see Thompson and Smith 2010). For prevention at a secondary level, i.e. focused on pupils identified as having important risk factors, cognitive techniques and the strengthening of their social skills (in particular empathy) have a very positive impact (Mytton et al. 2008). Among the most mentioned approaches are programmes in moral reasoning and training in the resolution of interpersonal problems. It has also been shown that parent training and home visits (especially by nurses/health visitors during the post-natal period) are effective. For complicated cases (the third level), systematic family therapy brings most benefit. In fact, for tertiary intervention, which concerns the most difficult cases of youngsters already well rooted in violence (Coyle 2005), effective strategies need more elaborated, multimodal programmes. These should combine work with the family, the school and the young people themselves. They should involve cognitive behavioural interventions, development of skills and, above all, help the young people to develop new social perspectives (for example, changing their attitude to training to increase their chances of securing employment) (Herrenkohl et al. 2004).

Context and conditions for programme implementation The research emphasises the importance of the conditions surrounding programme implementation. Unfortunately these conditions tend to be adverse rather than favourable and identified ‘good practices’ can be limited by contextual effects. The Canadian study by Smith et al. (2005: 758) of peer anti-harassment programmes, states that the data ‘show that the positive impact of programs did not appear in the short term (i.e., 3 months), but over longer intervals, such as one to five years’. The results suggest that the programmes need time to penetrate the culture of a school and to influence the attitudes of pupils and of the school staff (Smith et al. 2005: 758). While research shows how essential the conditions of implementation are, it is evident that for programmes to succeed, they must have the support of ‘ordinary’ adults, like the teachers or the parents. Eliciting this support depends on a system of shared values, on a history of teamworking in the schools, on the relations between parents and teachers (Benbenishty and Astor 2005), which depend on the particular cultural contexts. Even the prospect of instigating a programme could be an impossible challenge for teams in difficulties or for some cultural contexts. For example, effective programmes require positive links with pupils’ parents. In areas where a school is like a fortress cut off from its local community (as can be the case in France), it is doubtful that these programmes can be implemented effectively.

Conclusion Violence in schools is a complex phenomenon which cannot be solved by simplistic measures. Too often it is only seen as extreme violent outbursts and physical aggression, when in fact it more commonly takes the form of repeated minor victimisation. Violence in school is rarely perpetrated by intruders from beyond the school gates. It rather derives from the relationships between all the actors in or around a school community: its leadership, teachers, other staff, pupils and parents. Preventing violence cannot be achieved by the contribution of external professionals alone, even though this help can be invaluable. Therefore, it is important to reflect on how to improve the conditions that make preventive action possible, for instance in terms of staff training. It is likely that to confront violence more successfully will require direct confrontation of 213

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the problem and the need to bring about a widespread change in the nature of human relationships within a school and between the school and its neighbouring community. To conclude, Galloway and Roland rightly suggest: The problem is that many programmes which aim at changing the behaviour, among others, the anti-bullying programme, tend to look at the behaviour programme as the basic problem: fix this problem and everything will be all right! Nevertheless the evidence suggests that the effectiveness of a school is infinitely more complex than eliminating or reducing the behaviour problems. It certainly is important, but cannot be appreciably seen independently from the school organization and its management, or from the quality of teaching in the classroom. (Galloway and Roland 2005: 38)

References APA (American Psychological Association Zero Tolerance Task Force) (2006) ‘Are zero tolerance policies effective in the schools? An evidentiary review and recommendations’. American Psychologist 63(9): 352–62. Beger, R. (2003) ‘The “Worst of both worlds”: School security and the disappearing fourth amendment rights of students’. Criminal Justice Review 28: 336–54. Benbenishty, R. and Astor, R.A. (2005) School Violence in Context: Culture, Neighborhood, Family, School and Gender. New York: Oxford University Press. Blaya, C. (2010) Décrochages scolaires: l’école en difficulté. Bruxelles: De Boeck. Bottcher, J. and Ezell, M.E. (2005) ‘Examining the effectiveness of boot camps: A randomized experiment with a long-term follow up’. Journal of Research in Crime and Delinquency 42(3): 309–32. Coyle, J.P. (2005) ‘Preventing and reducing violence by at-risk adolescents: Common elements of empirically researched programs’. Journal of Evidence-Based Social Work 2(3/4): 125–39, www.haworthpress. com/web/JEBSW. Cusson, M. (2002) Prévenir la délinquance. Les méthodes efficaces. Paris: PUF. Collection Criminalité internationale. Darmame, M. and Vulbeau, A. (2006) ‘Le spectacle télévisuel des violences à l’école’. Spirale 37: 9–22. Debarbieux, E. (2008) Les dix commandements contre la violence à l’école. Paris: Éditions Odile Jacob. Debarbieux, E. and Blaya, C. (2009a) ‘Des “Bandes de jeunes” en France: Une enquête de délinquance auto-reportée auprès de jeunes collègiens. In A. Bauer (dir), La criminalité en France, rapport 2009 de l’Observatoire National de la Délinquance. Paris: CNRS éditions. ——(2009b) ‘Le contexte et la raison: agir contre la violence à l’école par “l’évidence”?’ Criminologie (Montréal), Mai. Dumas, J.E. (1999) Psychopathologie de l’enfant et de l’adolescent. Bruxelles: DeBoeck et Larcier. Eith, C.A. (2005) Delinquency, Schools and the Social Bond. El Paso, TX: LFB Scholarly Publishing. Farrell, A.D., Meyer, A.L., Kung, E., Sullivan, M. and Terri, N. (2001) ‘Development and evaluation of school-based violence prevention programs’. Journal of Clinical Child Psychology 30(1): 207–20. Farrington, D.P. and Ttofi, M.M. (2011) ‘Bullying as a predictor of offending, violence and later life outcomes’. Criminal Behaviour and Mental Health 21: 90–98, www.wileyonlinelibrary.com DOI: 10.1002/cbm.801. Fortin, L. (2003) ‘Student’s antisocial and aggressive behavior: Development and prediction’. Journal of Educational Administration 41(6): 669–89. Galloway, D.M. and Roland, E. (2005) ‘Is the direct approach to reduce bullying always the best?’ In P.K. Smith, B. Pepler and K. Rigby, Bullying in Schools. How Successful Can Interventions Be? Cambridge University Press, 37–54. Gottfredson, D.C. (2001) Schools and Delinquency. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. ——(2003) ‘School-based crime prevention’. In L.W. Sherman, D.P. Farrington, B.C. Welsh, D.L. Mackenzie, Evidence-Based Crime Prevention. London and New York: Routledge. Hawker, D.S.J. and Boulton, M.J. (2000) ‘Twenty years research on peer victimization and psychosocial maladjustment: A meta-analytic review of cross-sectional studies’. Journal of Child Psychiatry and Psychiatry 41: 441–55. Hawkins, J.D., Herrenkohl, T.I., Farrington, D.P., Brewer, D., Catalano, R.F., Harachi, T.W. and Cothern, L. (2000) Predictors of School Violence. Washington, DC: OJJDP.

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Herrenkohl, T.I., Chung, I. and Catalano, R.F. (2004) ‘Review of research on the predictors of youth violence and school based and community based prevention approaches’. In P. Allen-Meals and M.W. Fraser (eds), Intervention with Children and Adolescents: An Interdisciplinary Perspective. Boston, MA: Pearson, 449–76. Janosz, M., Pascal, S. and Bouthillier, C. (2009) La violence perçue et subie dans les écoles secondaires publiques québécoises: portrait de multiples échantillons d’écoles entre 1999 et 2005. Ministère de l’Éducation, du Loisir et du Sport. Groupe de recherche sur les environnements scolaires. Montréal: Université de Montréal. Kasen, S., Johnson, J. and Cohen, P. (1990) ‘The impact of school emotional climate on student psychopathology’. Journal of Abnormal Child Psychology 18(2): 165–77. Kazdin, A.E. (1995) Conduct Disorders in Childhood and Adolescence. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications. Mytton, J., DiGuiseppu, C., Gough, D., Taylor, R. and Logan, S. (2008) ‘School-based secondary prevention programs for preventing violence’. The Cochrane Library, Issue 1, www.thecochranelibrary.com. NCES (National Center for Education Statistics) (2002) Indicators of School Crime and Safety 2002. Washington, DC: US Department of Education. Olweus, D. (1978) Aggression in the Schools: Bullies and Whipping Boys. Washington, DC: Hemisphere. ——(1993) Bullying at School: What we Know and What we Can Do. Oxford: Blackwell. Payne, A., Gottfredson, D. and Gottfredson, G. (2006) ‘School predictors of the intensity of implementation of school-based prevention programs: Results from a national study’. Prevention Science 7(2): 225–37. Roberts, S., Zhang, J. and Truman, J. (2010) Indicators of School Crime and Safety: 2010 (NCES 2011–002/ NCJ 230812). Washington, DC: National Center for Education Statistics, US Department of Justice, nces.ed.gov/pubs2011/2011002.pdf. Royer, E. (2010) Leçons d’Éléphant pour la réussite des garçons à l’école. Québec: École et comportement. Salmivalli, C. and Voeten, M. (2004) ‘Connections between attitudes, group norms, and behaviors associated with bullying in schools’. International Journal of Behavioral Development 28: 246–58. Smith, J.D., Cousins, J.B and Stewart, R. (2005) ‘Anti-bullying interventions in schools: Ingredients of effective programs’. Canadian Journal of Education 28(4): 739–62. Smith, P.K. and Sharp, S. (1994) School Bullying: Insights and Perspectives. London: Routledge. Thompson, F. and Smith, P.K. (2010) ‘Stratégies contre le harcèlement et la maltraitance à l’école—Ce qui se fait et ce qui est efficace’. Revue française d’éducation comparée. N° spécial Recherches internationales sur la violence à l’école. No. 8, Novembre. Vettenburg, N. (1998) Violences à l’école: sensibilisation, prévention, répression. Rapport du Symposium tenu à Bruxelles (Belgique), 26–28 novembre. Edition du Conseil de l’Europe. Vitaro, F. and Gagnon, C. (2000) Prévention des problèmes d’adaptation chez les enfants et les adolescents. Tome 2: problèmes externalisés. Québec: Presses de l’Université du Québec. Voss, L.D. and Mulligan, J. (2000) ‘Bullying in schools: are short pupils at risk? Questionnaire study in a cohort’. British Medical Journal 320: 612–13. Vossekuil, B., Fein, R., Reddy, M., Borum, R. and Modzeleski, W. (2002) The Final Report and Findings of the Safe School Initiative: Implications for the Prevention of School Attacks in the United States. US Department of Education, Safe and Drug-Free Schools Program and US Secret Service, National Threat Assessment Center, Washington, DC. Walker, H.M. and Gresham, F.M. (1997) ‘Making schools safer and violence-free’. Intervention in School and Clinic 32: 199–204. Welsh, B.C. and Farrington, D.P. (2002) Crime Prevention Effects of Closed Circuit Television: A Systematic Review. London: Home Office Research Study No. 252. Wilson, S. and Lipsey, M.W. (2007) ‘Update of a meta-analysis of school-based intervention programs’. American Journal of Preventive Medicine 33 (Suppl.): 130–43.

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24 Addressing children’s learning problems through helping them control their attention difficulties Tatiana Akhutina and Gary Shereshevsky

Introduction Studies of the normal development of children show notable improvements in their inhibitory control, ability to regulate attention according to task demands and shift mental set, from age three to four (Zelazo et al. 2003; Diamond 2006; Best and Miller 2010), with subsequent further and significant improvements in these abilities from ages five to eight (Romine and Reynolds 2005; Best and Miller 2010). These developments coincide with the early years of schooling, when children face increasing demands on them in terms of learning new information, acquiring new concepts, learning strategies and social skills. Faced by these multiple demands, many normally developing children experience learning and adjustment difficulties, but for children with specific learning disabilities, developmental delays, intellectual disabilities, attention deficit/ hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) and attention deficit disorder (ADD), neurological and neuropsychiatric disorders, the new tasks can be especially challenging. In the fields of developmental and clinical neuropsychology numerous assessment instruments have been developed to target effectively the needs of these populations. However, there seems to remain a lack of targeted remediation programmes. This chapter aims to partially address this problem by providing a theoretical foundation for the creation of systematic remediation programmes aimed at developing cognitive and learning skills in preschool and school-aged children; by way of example, a targeted programme for the remediation and development of selective attention and executive control is presented.

Requirements for effective remediation methods According to Vygotsky (1997) and Luria (1980), the higher psychological functions are characterised by three main features:  social genesis;  systemic structure; and  dynamic organisation and localisation. 216

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From this understanding of mental functions we can conclude that there are at least three necessary conditions for an optimal remediation strategy for children with problems in cognitive development.

1 Ensuring the process of internalisation Effective remediation can occur in the process of child—adult interaction providing that it is organised in accordance with the rules of the internalisation process. We follow Vygotsky’s interpretation of this: [I]nitially all these functions (higher forms of speech, cognition and action) function in intimate connections with external activity and only later, as it were, disappear inward and change into inner activity. Research into the compensatory functions which develop when disorders occur also shows that objectification of a disturbed function, i.e. bringing it [the function] outside and changing it into external activity, is one of the basic ways of compensation for disorders. (Vygotsky 1997: vol. 3, 143) Following Vygotsky’s ideas (see also Galperin 1969), three parameters of child-adult interaction have to be changed during the course of remediation:  a shared/joint child-adult action must become the child’s individual and self-dependent action;  an action by the child mediated by an external (visual-concrete—‘hands-on’—or verbal) aide, must become an action mediated by an internal mental programme in the child; and  a complete action which has been broken down into its constituent parts and then practised step by step must become reduced, automatic action (for example, progressing from learning the individual elements of forming letters to smooth, skilled handwriting). How to organise such transitions will be discussed later.

2 Attention to weak links in a child’s functional systems In the process of interaction, an adult should first carry out for the child those components of higher mental functions, which because of a weakness, he or she cannot perform unaided, but then the adult should gradually transfer responsibility for these components to the child (‘scaffolded learning’). In other words, the adult works in the zone of proximal development of the child, helping with a child’s weak component. To accomplish ‘scaffolding’, we have to choose the tasks that the child can perform, based on his/her strengths and provide assistance to help the child manage weak component functions. Tasks involving these functions should be arranged from simple to difficult. With this end in mind, we need to consider the complexity of:  the operations that a child has to perform in conducting a task;  the material (the mediational means) with which a child works; and  the context of these operations. The adult helps complete the task, decreasing or increasing help depending on the child’s success (i.e. the help is interactive in nature). Work with the weak link occurs not only within the framework of the isolated function, for example, writing, but with all the verbal and non-verbal functions that include this weak link— for example, phonological processing or executive functions. Identification of the link does not 217

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take place only in the process of neuropsychological assessment prior to the start of the remedial work; rather the functional diagnosis is refined through dynamic tracking (monitoring) throughout the process of remedial work. The reduction in the number of errors made by the child as the adult’s assistance is reduced and the child’s ability to handle increasingly complex assignments are good indicators of effective remedial intervention.

3 Emotional involvement The emotional involvement of a child in social interaction is a pre-requisite of cognitive development. If a child has well-developed and regulated emotions, he or she will be helped by them. If emotional development is weak, efforts to address this weakness should be the first goal (we will discuss why later). When the child is not an object (where learning is imposed on them) but one of the subjects of learning (when he or she is emotionally involved in the learning process and is successful in completing the assignments) then the ‘affective-volitional basis’ (AVB) (Vygotsky 1988: vol.1, 282) of the learning process emerges. The AVB supports the natural increase in productivity and effective brain functioning in the child without negatively affecting his or her physical health. Moreover, as the development of difficulties in paying selective attention is closely related to development of the executive functions, the emphasis on emotional motivation and emotional regulation is especially important. Emotional regulation is the first step in developing executive functions. The origins of the development of selective attention and its connection to the development of executive functions will next be discussed.

Attention, executive functions and their development Luria shows the close relationship between goal-directed action and attention. He writes: ‘The directivity and selectivity of mental processes, [and] the basis on which they are organized, are usually termed attention in psychology’ (Luria 1973: 256, italics in the original). Some contemporary authors, agreeing with Luria, respond to the question ‘What do we need attention for?’ by noting that it facilitates selectivity of cognition and of consciousness (Allport 1993). Attention is considered an evolutionary mechanism, which mediates focused task management on the basis of incoming information: attention is not simply selection of information but selection of information for action (Norman and Shallice 1986; Neumann 1987). Thus, attention and executive functions are closely interrelated. Various forms of attention are described in the literature (e.g. in Posner and Rothbart 2007). The higher form of attention is named differently in the various models of attention, but there is a consensus that this type of attention is organized in a ‘top-down’ manner, and the higher form is closely related to executive functions and presupposes an ability to resolve conflict between two competing stimuli. The higher type of attention allows us to switch attention between stimuli, select and store in our working memory the information we need to pursue the goal of an action (Mirsky 1996; Mirsky et al. 1999; Posner and Rothbart 2007; Stuss 2006). This higher type of attention we will call (following a number of authors) executive attention or simply attention. Sustained attention (i.e. the ability to maintain attention throughout a routine task) will be included in this category, as is usually the case when children with ADHD are described. In the light of the close interrelationship between attention and executive functions in normal circumstances and in pathology, their development and remediation will be simultaneously discussed. The complex nature of executive functions of the brain is now briefly outlined. In a recent comprehensive model of frontal lobe functions, executive functions are shown to interact with emotional regulation, maintenance of energy for completion of a task, and functions important 218

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for maintaining a sense of self (Levine et al. 2008). Let us compare this theoretical division with the experience of educators, in particular with their knowledge of those children whose attention and executive functions leave much to be desired. In each classroom children can be found who have problems in focusing and concentrating, in planning, controlling and evaluating their actions. They can be slow, apathetic and lacking initiative, or hyperactive, impulsive, with difficulties in focusing and sustaining attention. All these children are not mentally active enough to fully analyse task demands. They can have problems in finding key features in presented information, they make decisions using only fragments of task demands, and they do not always evaluate whether the results meet the goal of action (cf. Pennington 1993: cases N3, N4; Diamond 2005; Barkley 2006). In children with severe mental retardation, emotional poverty or ‘flatness’ is usually observed. They have problems with goal-setting, though they are able to learn some procedures and some routines. In mild to moderate cases the children show problems in planning, programming and attention. In severe cases the children have problems with emotional motivation, goal-setting and the emotional evaluation of results. The reason for their difficulties lies in the course of the development of executive functions. Emotional self-regulation plays a crucial part in the development of executive functions. Vygotsky wrote that in infants affect integrates perception and action. This integration happens very early in a child’s life before he or she becomes capable of intentional action (Vygotsky 1998: vol. 5). In complete agreement with Vygotsky, some modern authors link the development of self-regulation to emotional development, and both self-regulation and emotional development to frontal lobes functioning (Dawson et al. 1992, and others). A second important feature of development is language acquisition and the emergence of a child’s verbal regulation of his or her behaviour. According to Vygotsky, the use of language allows a child to break free from the slave-like submission to the sensory-motor field and to reorganise the sensori-motor field by focusing his or her attention on different elements within it. In turn, this allows a child to ‘build a field of future action’, i.e. to make plans and to change them (Vygotksy 1999: 34). The role of speech in regulation of normal and abnormal behaviour is described in detail by Luria (1961). A third important feature in the development of executive functions takes place when children are six to seven years old. At this age, the child progressively masters inner speech and inner representation, and their early form of emotional regulation of activity gives way to brain activation connected with voluntary processes. Studies of attentional development (Machinskaya 2006) show that the pattern of brain activation (registered by EEG) begins to change at this age: the increase of frontal lobes activation and an increasing maturation of the frontal-thalamic system are seen at this time. This activation and maturation continues as the child becomes older. This observation corresponds to data produced by other researchers. As both neuropsychological analysis and neurovisualisation data show, a significant percentage of children diagnosed with ADD or ADHD suffer from under-development of executive functions, in particular the ability to inhibit an incorrect answer or retain a complicated plan of action in the ‘working memory’. This deficiency is attributed to problems in the frontal-striatal and/or frontal-parietal networks (Casey and Durston 2006; Diamond 2005; Hale et al. 2000). These developmental changes make executive functions more vulnerable at this age (six-toseven year olds). We observed this in our practice with first-grade pupils with learning disabilities. For these children, a methodical intervention focusing on the sequencing of numbers and called the ‘School of Attention’ was developed and refined. Later this was adapted for children with mental retardation (Akhutina and Pylaeva 1995; Akhutina 1997; Akhutina and Pylaeva 2008). The School of Attention has been published in Russian, Spanish, Finnish and Slovak languages. For older children, another intervention, the ‘School of Multiplication’, has been developed. 219

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The numerical sequence method (the School of Attention) The numerical sequence method (NSM) is organised in stages which follow each other in logical succession. Skilled performance requires mental internalisation with the child being able to carry out the set task ‘in his/her head’. Put another way, this involves the construction of inner representation via verbal mediation and the mastering of mental operations. We suggest that training children in numerical sequencing and assisting the child in making inner representation of that sequence is crucial. Such training could provide a firm base for the subsequent development in children of more complex processing, programming and planning skills. Suggesting this, we note that systematic searching should be the precursor of mature planning. Having acquired a systematic procedure for concrete searches of numerals, it will be possible for children to organise similar procedures to search and to sequence the steps to reach other goals (cf. Ylvisaker 1989). The numerical sequence method was also chosen because acquiring skills in sequencing numbers is so important in the classroom and the method can be easily adapted for both simpler or more complicated tasks. A final important feature of the method is how the child-adult interaction is played out: in every exercise set, a balance has to be achieved between asking more of the child while reducing the help given by the adult and the need for the adult to provide sufficient assistance to help the child avoid making errors. The numerical sequence method consists of 50 tasks, each comprising one to six subtasks (e.g. numerating, colouring, pointing). The tasks can be divided into five parts, shown in Box 24.1. An example is now given, which refers back to the five parts of the numerical sequence method (see Box 24.1). The child managed the Part 1 tasks quite well, but did make some impulsive errors—the situations that were very familiar to him sometimes led the child to decide that he could act without thinking. The new content of Part 2 tasks, with their educational and game-like character, helped to keep the child’s attention (see Figures 24.1–24.7). The first task of Part 2 includes a Shulte’s table with nine randomly arranged numbers and two sets of numbered tokens. The psychologist has nine tokens with numbers from 1 to 9 and gives the similar set to the child. She tells the child: ‘These are my soldiers. Those are your soldiers. All my soldiers live in their barracks, each in his own room. The first soldier lives in room number 1, the second soldier lives in room number 2 … ’ Concurrently she places the tokens from 1 to 9 on the table. ‘And what about your soldiers?’ The child puts his tokens in order from 1 to 9 (if he is about to make an error, the psychologist points to the correct number in her sequence, accompanying this action with a phrase, ‘You correctly placed the soldier number 5. The next soldier is number 6’). Then the psychologist presents the Shulte’s table and says: ‘The soldiers need to go to their posts. Where do you think the first soldier has to go? … You are correct … to the post number 1. You are a sergeant. Post the sentries’. The child takes the token with number 1 written on it and places it at the right place—the square marked number 1 (i.e. he carries out the task in materialized, concrete form). After the child finishes placing his tokens in the correctly numbered squares, the psychologist says: ‘The soldiers are standing. They are watching. The sergeant has to check the soldiers at their posts. What about post number 1? Number 2?’ She gives the beginning of the programme in verbal form and observes if this prompt is enough for the child to carry on with the rest of the task. If not, she uses her line of tokens as the external programme. Then the sergeant leads the soldiers back to the barracks (thereby completing the third subtask, practising the programme for the third time). At the next lesson the game continues. The psychologist asks about the soldiers living in their barracks: ‘How quickly can the soldiers go to their posts? How quickly can you check their posts? How quickly can the soldiers go back to their posts?’ She tells the child how much time he takes to do each of the requested searches, in order to awaken an interest in the game. During 220

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Box 24.1 The five parts of the numerical sequence method  Part 1: numerical sequence in traditional well-known situations (e.g. fairy tales with familiar sequences of roles; the numbers of apartment block floors; the numbers on elevator control panels; the numbers to press on a telephone).  Part 2: numerical sequence in direct order (e.g. Shulte’s tables (squares containing lines of random numbers), trail-making tasks (join-the-dots/join-the-number puzzles on paper or computer screen)). See examples of worksheets used with Part 2 in Figures 24.1–24.7.  Part 3: quantitative sequences in direct order (dominoes, quantity of peas, etc.).  Part 4: backward sequences (e.g. seen in Parts 2 and 3 above).  Part 5: parallel sequences (e.g. seen in Parts 2 and 4 above). The level of difficulty wis programmed to increase as the child works through the different tasks. How each task is presented, undertaken and evaluated should proceed in order through the following five stages:  The programming and evaluation should first be controlled by an adult. The adult gives verbal instructions and the child carries out the required actions step by step.  The task is then given to the child in a concrete, hands-on way, i.e. it is an external programme (using tangible props) which the child does step by step using concrete cues. The adult evaluates the child’s actions and, if necessary, gives verbal instructions (a return to the previous stage).  The external programme is given to the child again. He or she will usually work through it with greater ease, having absorbed parts of the programme into his/her mind (starting to internalise what is required). At this stage, the role of the adult become less critical.  In the fourth stage, the child does the task in his or her head (it is now an internalised programme). Only if the child has difficulties does he/she return to using the external programme.  In the final stage, the child transfers the skills he or she has just learnt to carrying out a new but related task (starting to generalise newly learnt skills). The task of transferring the new skills is controlled by the adult, who gives some hints or guides the child through the entire new task.

all the searches the external programme is on the table (the psychologist’s line of tokens), and the psychologist notes how often the child turns to it. She records the number of times he uses the external programme, the number of errors (if they occur) and the time it takes to complete each search. This is done to analyse the course of the internalisation process. Three searches are required in this task. The second search is especially significant because in this the child has to remember the task, i.e. keep the programme in internalised mental form. There are also control tasks at the end of each part of the method (see Akhutina and Pylaeva 2008: part 2, chapter 2, for details of remediation work with a group of first-grade primary school children). The NSM was also used with children with mental retardation (Akhutina and Pylaeva 2008: part 5). The authors are very aware of the problems of involving such children in goal-directed 221

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Figure

24.1 Numerical sequence method (NSM) worksheet example 1

Figure 24.3 NSM worksheet example 3

Figure 24.2 NSM worksheet example 2

Figure 24.4 NSM worksheet example 4

interaction. One approach is to require the adult to interact with the child through games: the psychologist will seek to participate (at first passively and then by imitating what the child does). Additionally, one of the ways to involve the mentally retarded child in the work is the participation (at first passive or pure imitative) in the game-format interaction of the psychologist and more advanced child. The first objective of this step of intervention is to reach an interaction regulated by some rules, which can be given in materialised, concrete form. For example, it may be a game with toy cars, with each vehicle having its own number from 1 to 3 or 5, and its own garage, also numbered. The cars leave their garages and then come back. This simple scheme of play—dispersing and then ordering objects—can be repeated in many variants. These games help to prepare a child for mathematics lessons and for more advanced tasks using the numerical sequence method mentioned above. To conclude, the numerical sequence method can be placed in the more general context of the remediation of executive functions. This method is characterised by an emphasis on procedural aspects of executive functions’ remediation. We consider these aspects to be a firm foundation for further development of children’s executive functions. In parallel with using NSM (but after some time has elapsed), we use methods that familiarise the child with strategies for planning (e.g. how to plan a story using pictures), self-monitoring and self-evaluating (these methods are similar to those proposed by other authors, e.g. Meichenbaum 1977; Ylvisaker and Feeney 2008). These metacognitive aspects are also present in the numerical sequence method. We ask the child: ‘What do you have to do before acting?’; we track a child’s progress, informing 222

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Figure 24.5 NSM worksheet example 5

Figure 24.6 NSM worksheet example 6

Figure 24.7 NSM worksheet example 7

him or her of errors and compare the amount of time it took the child to do the task earlier and how long it takes now. We also start to ask children to help another well-known imaginary person, e.g. we tell the child: ‘Pinocchio has been given a task. He does not know what to do. Please, explain to him how to do it properly. Show him what to do’. We provide variety through using different approaches to doing tasks, sometimes using fun activities and games, e.g. ‘Simon says’, ‘Edible—catch a ball, inedible—don’t catch it’, where children have to inhibit actions that are not permitted by the game rules. It is important to note that in our remediation methods we do not just ‘attack’ the deficit by training the weak function, but offer to the child feasible (theoretically grounded) ways of its development. Further, working with children, we need to remember that our goal is to prepare a child for real-life tasks. Therefore social interaction and communication with the child as well as with teachers and parents are important in order to achieve the desired results.

References Akhutina, T.V. (1997) ‘The remediation of executive functions in children with cognitive disorders: the Vygotsky-Luria neuropsychological approach’. Journal of Intellectual Disability Research 41(2): 144–51. Akhutina, T. and Pylaeva, N. (1995) Tarkkaavaiseksi oppiminen (Be attentive). Helsinki: Kehitysvammaliito (in Finnish). ——(2008) Overcoming Learning Disabilities: Neuropsychological Approach. SPb: Piter. (English edition: Cambridge University Press, 2012.) 223

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Allport, D.A. (1993) ‘Attention and control: Have we been asking the wrong questions?’ In D.E. Meyer and S. Kornblum (eds), Attention and Performance, XIV. Hillsdale, NY: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Barkley, R.A. (2006) Attention-deficit Hyperactivity Disorder: A Handbook for Diagnosis and Treatment, 3rd edn. New York: Guilford Press. Best, J.R. and Miller, P.H. (2010) ‘A developmental perspective on executive function’. Child Development 81(6): 1641–60. Casey, B.J. and Durston, S. (2006) ‘From behavior to cognition to the brain and back: What have we learned from functional imaging studies of attention deficit hyperactivity disorder?’ American Journal of Psychiatry 163(6): 957–60. Cohen, R.M., Semple, W.E., Gross, M., Holcomb, H.H., Dowling, M.S. and Nordahl, T.E. (1988) ‘Functional localization of sustained attention: Comparison to sensory stimulation in the absence of instruction’. Neuropsychiatry, Neuropsychology and Behavioural Neurology 1: 3–20. Dawson, G., Panaguotides, H., Grofer-Klinger, L. and Hill, D. (1992) ‘The role of frontal lobe functioning in the development of infant self-regulatory behavior’. Brain and Cognition 29: 152–75. Diamond, A. (2005) ‘Attention-deficit disorder (attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder without hyper-activity): A neurobiologically and behaviorally distinct disorder from attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder with hyperactivity’. Developmental Psychopathology 17(3): 807–25. ——(2006) ‘The early development of executive functions’. In E. Bialystok, F.I.M. Craik (eds), Lifespan Cognition: Mechanisms of Change. New York: Oxford University Press, 70–95. Galperin, P.Ya. (1969) ‘Stages in the development of mental acts’. In M. Cole and I. Malzman (eds), A Handbook of Contemporary Soviet Psychology. New York: Basic Books. Hale, T.S., Hariri, A.R. and McCracken, J.T. (2000) ‘Attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder: Perspectives from neuroimaging’. Mental Retardation and Developmental Disabilities 6: 214–19. Levine, B., Turner, G.R. and Stuss, D.T. (2008) ‘Rehabilitation of frontal lobe functions’. In D.T. Stuss, G. Winocur and I.H. Robertson (eds), Cognitive Neurorehabilitation, Second Edition: Evidence and Application. New York: Cambridge University Press, 464–86. Luria, A.R. (1961) The Role of Speech in Regulation of Normal and Abnormal Behaviour. London: Pergamon Press. ——(1973) The Working Brain: An Introduction to Neuropsychology. New York, Basic Books. ——(1980) Higher Cortical Functions in Man. New York: Basic Books. Machinskaya, R.I. (2006) ‘Functional maturation of the brain and formation of the neurophysiological mechanisms of selective voluntary attention in young schoolchildren’. Human Physiology 32(1): 20–29. Meichenbaum, D. (1977) Cognitive Behavior Modification: An Integrative Approach. New York: Plenum Press. Mirsky, A.F. (1996) ‘Disorders of attention: A neuropsychological perspective’. In G. Reid Lyon, N.A. Krasnegor (eds), Attention, Memory, and Executive Function. Baltimore, MD: Paul H. Brookes Publishing, 71–95. Mirsky, A.F., Pascualvaca, D.M., Duncan, C.C. and French, L.M. (1999) ‘A model of attention and its relation to ADHD’. Mental Retardation and Developmental Disabilities Research Reviews 5: 169–76. Neumann, O. (1987) ‘Beyond capacity: A functional view of attention’. In H. Heur, A.F. Sanders (eds), Perspectives on Perception and Action. Hillsdale, NY: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, 361–94. Norman, D.A. and Shallice, T. (1986) ‘Attention to action: Willed and automatic control of behavior’. In R. Davidson, R.G. Schwartz and D. Shapiro (eds), Consciousness and Self-regulation: Advances in Research and Theory. New York: Plenum Press, 1–18. Pennington, B.F. (1993) Diagnosing Learning Disorders. A Neuropsychological Framework. New York and London: The Guilford Press. Posner, M.I. and Rothbart, M.K. (2007) ‘Research on attention networks as a model for the integration of psychological science’. Annual Review of Psychology 58: 1–23. Pylaeva, N.M. and Akhutina, T.V. (1997/2008) Shkola vnimaniya. Metodika razvitiya i korrektsii vnimaniya u detei 5–7 let [School of attention. The method of development and correction of attention in 5–7 years old children (Toolkit and didactic material)], 4th edn. Moscow: ‘Intor’; St Petersburg: Piter. Romine, C.B. and Reynolds, C.R. (2005) ‘A model of the development of frontal lobe function: Findings from a meta-analysis’. Applied Neuropsychology 12: 190–201. Stuss, D.T. (2006) ‘Frontal lobes and attention: Processes and networks, fractionation and integration’. Journal of the International Neuropsychological Society 12: 261–71. Vygotsky, L.S. (1988) ‘The Collected Works of L.S. Vygotsky’. In Robert W. Rieber, Aaron S. Carton (eds), Volume 1: Problems of General Psychology, Including the Volume Thinking and Speech. 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——(1998) The Collected Works of L.S. Vygotsky. Volume 5: Child Psychology. Edited by C. Ratner. New York: Plenum Press. ——(1999) The Collected Works of L.S. Vygotsky. Volume 6: Scientific Legacy. Edited by Robert W. Rieber. New York: Plenum Press. Ylvisaker, M. (1989) ‘Metacognitive and executive impairments in head-injured children and adults’. Topics in Language Disorders 9(2): 34–49. Ylvisaker, M. and Feeney, T. (2008) ‘Helping children without making them helpless: Facilitating development of executive self-regulation in children and adolescents’. In V. Anderson, R. Jacobs and P. Anderson (eds), Executive Functions and the Frontal Lobes: A Lifespan Perspective. Hove, UK: Psychology Press, 409–38. Zelazo, P.D., Muller, U., Frye, D. and Marcovitch, S. (2003) ‘The development of executive function in early childhood’. Monographs of the Society for Research in Child Development 68 (Serial No. 274).

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25 Beyond classroom ‘management’ Understanding students with SEBD and building their executive skills Rob Long

Nearly all children and young people in English schools do not disrupt their classrooms on a regular basis (Ellis and Tod 2009; Ofsted 2005: 4; Ofsted 2010), but the behaviour of a minority of students continues to be of considerable concern to school staff. Within the disruptive minority are students who may be called ‘the normal naughty’. These should be distinguished from that small percentage of pupils with serious social, emotional and behavioural difficulties (SEBD), on whose classroom needs this chapter focuses. It is argued that teachers need to understand and respond to the complex causation of these learners’ difficulties. School professionals will be helped by having an understanding of the likely deficits in the development of these children’s cognitive executive skills and teachers should think of how they can address these difficulties. A standard ‘behaviour management’ approach will usually prove insufficient. The classroom misdemeanours of the pupils without SEBD (and sometimes those with SEBD) are likely to be caused by:      

boredom minor learning difficulties fear of failure peer influence lack of interest a desire to create fun (Dix 2010)

Their behaviours are likely to contribute to low-level disruption, and are typically managed by a mainstream school adopting a tiered response plan (Cole and Knowles 2011). This low level of disruption is more often displayed by learners who, when their backgrounds are investigated, are less likely to have ‘at-risk’ factors within their homes and communities. Effective classroom management techniques are likely to control and improve these behaviours (see for instance, Ellis and Tod 2009). Such classroom techniques, which often stress the adjustment of environmental factors, can be of help but are only partially effective for students at the severe end of the SEBD continuum. 226

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Such young people act in ways that adults consider inappropriate for the context and according to the students’ age. The behaviours are severe, persistent and resistant to usual school interventions (DCSF 2008). Some believe that a child’s behaviour is in effect a sane response to untenable circumstances with which they are forced to cope (Bray 1997). Children with SEBD often experience many—and possibly an increasing number—of ‘risk’ factors (Palmer 2006; McWhirter et al. 1998), ranging from poor parenting leading to attachment disorders (Pearce 2009; Geddes 2008), to the negative influence of the media and the secularisation of society (Rutter and Smith 1995). Risk factors can produce severe stress and have been found to:       

increase school absenteeism (Johnston-Brooks et al. 1998) impair attention and concentration (Erickson et al. 2003) reduce cognition, creativity and memory (Lupien et al. 2001) diminish social skills and social judgment (Wommack and Delville 2004) reduce motivation, determination and effort (Johnson 1981) increase the likelihood of depression (Hammack et al. 2004) reduce neurogenesis (brain cell growth) (De Bellis et al. 2001)

The above evidence indicates the deep-seated and complex factors ‘within’ the learner with SEBD that need to be considered in any school assessment/intervention programme. Many of the behaviours displayed by these learners are similar to those seen in other children—and can be a response to environmental factors—but there will remain severe and persistent behaviours for which the interventions, which are effective for the majority of learners who ‘misbehave’, will not work. In the later decades of the last century, behaviour modification techniques became a favoured way of developing desired skills in many learners said to have SEBD (Shapiro and Kratochwill 2000; Martin and Pear 1999). The aim was the teaching of new behaviours and the suppression of undesirable ones, achieved by controlling the immediate environmental antecedents and consequences to behaviours through the use of rewards and sanctions (Lewis and Newcomer 2005). The appeal was its ‘directness, simplicity and structure’ (Emblem et al. 2000). Sometimes the emphasis was very much on sanctions. Now it seems morally questionable that children whose ‘inappropriate behaviours’ could be mainly caused by early childhood experiences should be frequently punished through sanctions for misbehaving, just as it would be wrong to punish a child with specific learning difficulties for incorrect spelling. However, such behavioural approaches, although they have relevance at times (e.g. baselining, target-setting and the skilful use of positive reinforcement; see Chapter 13, this volume), are often ineffective given the complex social, psychological and at times biological causes of the behaviour of the child with SEBD.

Limits to the value of normal classroom behaviour management There is evidence (e.g. in Cole and Knowles 2011) that many learners with SEBD display problem behaviours in one context but not in another, responding to environmental factors such as how the teacher organises and presents work. This has led to numerous resources focusing on the development of skills for teachers and support staff. Such skills are clearly important—in mainstream settings as well as in special provision—and can lead to improved behaviour in all learners. However, improving teachers’ classroom management skills alone is not enough for students with SEBD, who, as has been shown, are often failing to cope with multiple social and emotional difficulties (take the example given in Box 25.1). 227

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Box 25.1 Case Study 1 When in class with Mr Evans, student JT shows no behavioural difficulties, but these do appear when JT is with Mrs Jones. Without an understanding of JT’s early attachment problems and associated difficulties, the focus will stay on what Mr Evans does differently to Mrs Jones, rather than understanding the early childhood experiences that shaped the way this student responds to male teachers as opposed to female. It could well be that at home JT’s mother was in a series of abusive relationships, JT learned to fear the men in his life and to show disrespect to his mother, who failed to protect him. This pattern of behaviour is being re-enacted in the school setting.

Teachers can also be puzzled by the fact that learners with SEBD possess social skills at one time but not at another (see Box 25.2).

Box 25.2 Case Study 2 Student MC is often amiable and polite, but when faced with work that he finds too difficult he loses his temper, becoming defiant and aggressive. Teachers might respond by focusing on aspects of differentiation, e.g. avoiding setting work outside MC’s zone of proximal development (Slee and Shute 2003; see also Chapter 24, this volume). Most children learn how to contain their negative feelings from a young age but some, including MC, fail to acquire the core skills of emotional containment (Dalibor 2011). Consequently, when faced with a challenge that seems beyond them, their frustration level increases and containment ceases to be an option. Their level of arousal is such that they ‘explode’, involuntarily resorting to basic ‘fight or flight’ responses (see Chapter 28, this volume). If MC is not taught the necessary skills to control his frustrations and anger, he will continue to struggle in such contexts.

Learners with SEBD can have the necessary skills, but these skills are not established as dispositions. Skills can be defined as sets of behaviours that can be—but are not necessarily—repeated in the right circumstances. Dispositions are so well ingrained that they have become unthinking habits. Compare the process of learning to drive a car, where skills are needed, to the experienced driver performing actions automatically without thinking—a disposition (see also Chapter 24, this volume, on internalising cognitive skills). Many learners with SEBD in stressful, challenging situations, revert quickly to well-established disruptive dispositions on which they have depended in the past. Turning to the crucial issue of communication, it is known that a student’s response in class will be affected by the language skills of the teacher (Mahony 2007; see also Chapter 26, this volume). Essentially, using the classroom effectiveness approach could lead to the teacher thinking, ‘If I had the necessary classroom/communication skills, the student with SEBD would not have behaved as he did’. As suggested earlier, this response would be incomplete given many of the complex issues affecting the learner’s past and present life. For example, it is now recognised that disadvantages in childhood can inhibit the normal acquisition of core language skills, even affecting the physical development of the brain. However much the teacher improves his or her skills in communicating with children, a student with SEBD’s difficulties in receptive and expressive language would remain (see Chapter 11, Chapter 17, this volume). A child’s behaviour in class is an outcome of the complex inter-relationship between the learner, the curriculum and the adults. Pupils’ behaviour is not something over which the teacher 228

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can have complete control. To think otherwise leads to a false separation of behaviour from learning and from teaching, and suggests that if teachers can make learners behave appropriately, then the pupils can be taught successfully. However, if the learner lacks the core skills for learning, then effective behaviour management techniques in the teacher will only have a limited impact. Also, if the learner lacks, or has weak, impulse control, communication skills, and/or response inhibition, these weaknesses will result in difficulties across the entire curriculum. Most children arrive in class with the necessary ‘behaviour protocols for learning’ (Ellis and Tod 2009), but others, those students with severe SEBD, might need to be taught them.

Cognitive executive skills and functions—an introduction As suggested above, obstacles in their early formative years are likely to cause many persistent difficulties in learners with SEBD. The lasting effect of these obstacles is an immaturity or skill deficit which might explain many persistent problem behaviours (McKinnon 2010). Many children with SEBD missed out on core experiences essential for healthy development during early and mid-childhood years, which led to the under-development of core cognitive skills. Studies in neuroscience now show how the physical development of a child’s brain is affected by early negative experiences (Geake 2009; Gerhardt 2004; Perry 2006; Sousa 2010). Poor care in early childhood is thought to lead to the pre-frontal lobes of the brain not developing as they do in children who experienced good nurture and developed strong attachments. The pre-frontal lobes are where self-control, empathy and other important skills are mainly located and developed. The effect of poor early childhood experience can leave a young person with limited ability to calm down or to think a situation through because the relevant parts of their brains have not developed fully (Batmanghelidjh 2006). This new knowledge about how the human brain develops is highly relevant to understanding how students behave in class and for supporting learners with SEBD. Key to a child’s ability to focus, concentrate, plan, communicate and evaluate in class is the healthy development in a child’s brains of ‘executive skills’. The brain is hard-wired to develop language (Chomsky 2006), but needs other core innate abilities to emerge to enable other skills. The seeds of these executive skills are present at birth. Through normal parenting these executive skills begin to emerge in early infancy in relationship with other skills. Executive skills are described as ‘directive capacities that are responsible for a person’s ability to engage in purposeful, organised, strategic, self-regulated, goal-directed processing of perceptions, emotions, thoughts, and actions’ (McCloskey et al. 2009: 15). In similar vein, Barkley (1997) describes executive functions as a set of necessary skills that enable future goals to be achieved. They are the internal actions that enable us to maintain focus and self-control. Without them we would be too easily distracted. In Barkley’s (1997) view, the earliest executive skill to develop is ‘behavioural inhibition’. Essentially, this skill allows the child to stop and think, non-verbally, before acting to decide when, how and if to respond. Internal control is achieved through the brain’s capacity to self-inhibit. Barkley (1997) sees the next skill to develop as that of a non-verbal working memory enabling the child to have ‘hindsight and forethought’. At this stage the child is able to create mental representations of events. The third skill is self-regulation. The child is now able to regulate arousal as well as seeing the world from the standpoint of others. Next to emerge is language, which strengthens a child’s ability to exercise control over personal environment. Finally, in Barkley’s model, comes the executive skill of reconstitution. A child can now ‘analyse and synthesise’, solving new problems and reaching new goals. Brown (2005) sees executive functions as a unitary entity—the conductor in the orchestra. While this view can be helpful, it is an over-simplification. It is better to see the multiple 229

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executive functions as a collection of ‘co-conductors’, each responsible for a separate aspect of the overall orchestra, but each working in a highly collaborative way with the others (McCloskey et al. 2009). This approach organises various instruments so that they can start playing singularly or in combination, integrating the music by bringing in or fading out certain actions, and controlling the pace and intensity of the music—working in concert with each other. While the frontal lobes are central to executive skills, this part of the brain does not act in isolation. Executive skills are directive in that they link and work in conjunction with other skills. (See also Chapter 24, this volume, for more detail on the emergence of executive functions and the important part played by emotional regulation.)

Child development and executive functions In the early stages of child development, the child’s parent/carer will usually act on behalf of their children’s frontal lobes (Dawson and Guare 2004). Initially, control for a child is achieved externally but then gradually becomes internal through the child’s copying the executive skills observed in adults. For example, the parent speaks out loud while carrying out an activity and the child gradually mimics the adult, first with overt language and then with covert language. Adults also shadow a child’s actions by describing out loud what they see the child doing, ‘I see you’re going to put teddy in the car’. These processes assist the development of the neural pathways for executive skills. For many learners with SEBD, living in disadvantaged circumstances, this process has not occurred properly. Numerous studies show that children in disadvantaged circumstances:  Experience shorter, grammatically simpler sentences (e.g. Weizman and Snow 2001).  Have poorer language skills and IQ scores due to poor parent attention (Hart and Risley 1995).  Show signs of brain-growth inhibition. Essentially, the human brain does not thrive on neglect— the brain-growth trajectory is scaled back through lack of stimulation (De Bellis et al. 2001).

Executive skills and ADHD Whether attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) is seen as a causal explanation— suggesting a brain disorder—or a way of describing a set of acquired behaviours will not be discussed here (see Chapter 4, this volume). Our present concern is the disruptive behaviours of these learners. Neurological evidence does suggest that prefrontal abnormalities are the result of poor early experiences impacting on the development of executive functioning skills (Holowenko 1999). However, what is certain is that when teachers use informed cognitive and instructional strategies and teach self-control skills to learners, the behaviour of the latter can improve (Corkum et al. 2005; Gureasko-Moore et al. 2006; Miranda et al. 2002). This suggests that a lack of these skills is involved in causing the behavioural difficulties of students with ADHD—and probably children with other forms of SEBD. It also suggests that learning the skills can reduce the problems. Dawson and Guare (2004) define the core executive skills as:      

Control of feelings Meta-cognition Goal-directed persistence Flexibility Sustained attention Working memory

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Response inhibition Planning/prioritising Time management Organisation Task initiation Skills in some or all of these areas can be lacking in learners with SEBD, particularly:

    

Response inhibition—being able to wait; Control of feelings—coping with failure; Sustained attention—staying on-task; Task initiation—getting started; and Goal-directed persistence—completing tasks.

Assessing and intervening to develop students’ executive skills Direct assessment methods involve interaction with, or observation of the child. Indirect assessment methods occur when the child, their parents/carers and school staff submit interview reports. To aid direct assessment, various tests have been designed to establish the strengths and weaknesses of a learner’s existing executive skills. A recent example is the Behaviour Rating Inventory of Executive Function (BRIEF), which consists of forms to be completed by school staff and parents that assess the child’s performance in both the home and school environment (Gioia et al. 2011). Dawson and Guare (2004) present a useful assessment tool for collecting data from school staff, which also allows for the consideration of interventions (see example of use in Figure 25.1). Staff rate the child’s skill on a 1–10 scale in the areas described below, with 1 meaning the learner ‘rarely’, 5–6 ‘sometimes’ and 10 ‘often’ exhibits the behaviour/s. There is a crucial point to make: assessment is only of value if it results in intervention. A description of important executive skills is therefore accompanied below by brief consideration of how to help address any deficits through modifying the learning context and by using particular teaching approaches. The intervention process for teaching executive skills should have the following steps: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Describe the problem behaviours Set an agreed goal Establish ways to achieve the goal Support the learner in agreed ways Evaluate progress, and change support if necessary Gradually fade the supervision and support as required

Dawson and Guare (2004) outline five key executive skill areas, for which appropriate interventions are suggested:

1 Response inhibition Defined as the ability to pause and think before acting, to delay a response until appropriate. Learners who lack this skill are impulsive—doing or saying things that often get them into trouble. They shout out answers, interrupt others who are talking, get involved in other people’s disputes. 231

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Figure 25.1 Assessment profile

Context modification Increase external controls, limit access to places where problems may occur. Increase adult supervision. Increase cues to control impulsive behaviours.

Teaching the skill For example, encourage the student to raise a hand to make a contribution rather than shouting out. The learner is told the skill, shown examples and helped to practise the skill.

2 Control of feelings Defined as the ability to control and manage feelings to achieve goals and complete tasks. A student without this skill tends to give up quickly when frustrated, indulges in negative self-talk and complains about tasks.

Context modification Anticipate problem situations and prepare the learner for them. Give the learner a positive ‘pep talk’. 232

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Teaching the skill Encourage positive self-statements and verbalising goals, e.g. ‘Today I will … ’ Help develop the child’s visual imagery skills, picturing success. Develop positive routines around success, e.g. keeping a journal of success. Teach the learner active relaxation techniques. Break processes down into manageable steps.

3 Sustained attention Defined as the ability to maintain focus despite distractions, fatigue or boredom. A student without this skill stops work before finishing, rarely completes homework and readily engages with other different tasks.

Context modification Provide the learner with ‘start’ and ‘stop’ times for tasks. Divide tasks up and provide frequent breaks. Provide an egg timer to time-limit certain tasks and provide adult supervision.

Teaching the skill The learner can self-monitor on-task behaviour. Help the learner develop a work plan that acknowledges his/her personal attention span. Develop agreed rewards for completed tasks.

4 Task initiation Defined as the ability to start a task with minimum prompting. A student without this skill needs repeated requests to start work, or only starts work when cautioned.

Context modification Verbally cue the learner to start. Talk the learner through the first part of the task. The learner then decides when to start and the adult cues them to begin.

Teaching the skill Help the learner develop a work plan, with tasks and times included—especially when to start the process. Teach self-instruct skills where the learner makes a list of sub-tasks to be completed.

5 Goal-directed persistence Defined as the ability to choose and complete a goal despite distractions and other interests. A student without this skill might have little awareness of the link between homework and long-term goals, cannot achieve strategic goals, forgets the goal being worked towards.

Context modification Involve the learner in setting the goal. Make the goal relevant to the learner’s life and interests. Make the goal achievement time short and give regular feedback on progress. 233

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Teaching the skill Practise goal-setting, identify possible obstacles and ways to overcome them. Write a plan for achieving goals and review progress daily. Using the approach outlined above would seem appropriate for the case study given in Box 25.3.

Box 25.3 Case Study 3 Learner TJ finds it difficult to complete independent work. He is often cautioned for talking with peers and not getting on with his work. His teacher has established that the work is well within his ability. An executive skills assessment produces a profile indicating that TJ lacks response inhibition and sustained attention (see Figure 25.1).

These are only indicative interventions using limited examples. However, by using such an assessment and intervention model, the social, emotional and behavioural difficulties of many learners are turned into deficit skills that can be remedied through teaching. The aim is to increase positive behavioural skills, rather than concentrating on diminishing or punishing unwanted behaviours.

Conclusion It is essential for teachers and teaching assistants to have effective classroom management skills to use in supporting learners with SEBD—as it is for their work with all learners—but school staff members need wider understanding of the causation of children’s social, emotional and behavioural difficulties. This understanding should include knowledge of the development of executive functions and what can be done to remedy weaknesses in this area. Executive skills can be seen to be essential entry qualifications for learning in the classroom. If learners have difficulties in controlling their impulsive behaviours and feelings of frustration, if they find it hard to start or complete tasks or do not organise themselves, then classroom failure will ensue. An understanding of executive functioning skills gives the school staff a model to make sense of these behaviours. Therefore, instead of devoting excessive time and energy to looking for better classroom management techniques, the teacher can work at classroom strategies that help the learner with SEBD to develop core executive skills. The mere control of the challenging behaviour of learners with SEBD is no longer a valid option. A crucial aim in classrooms should be to help these young people to develop the key cognitive skills that will enhance their ability to succeed.

References Barkley, R. (1997) ADHD and the Nature of Self-control. New York: Guilford Press. Batmanghelidjh, C. (2006) Shattered Lives. London: Jessica Kingsley Publishers. Bray, M. (1997) Sexual Abuse: The Child’s Voice—‘Poppies on the Rubbish Heap’. London: Jessica Kingsley Publishers. Brown, T. (2005) Attention Deficit Disorder: The Unfocused Mind in Children and Adults. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Chomsky, N. (2006) Language and Mind. Cambridge: Cambridge Press. Cole, T. and Knowles, B. (2011) How to Help Children and Young People with Complex Behavioural Difficulties: A Guide for Practitioners Working in Educational Settings. London: Jessica Kingsley Publishers. Corkum, P.V., McKinnon, M.M. and Mullane, J.C. (2005) ‘The effect of involving classroom teachers in a parent training program for families of children with ADHD’. Child and Family Behavior Therapy 27 (4): 29–49. 234

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Dalibor, G. (2011) Everything You Always Wanted to Know about Adoption but were Afraid to Ask. AdoptionUK, www.adoptionuk.org/shop. Dawson, P. and Guare, R. (2004) Executive Skills in Children and Adolescents. London: The Guilford Press. DCSF (Department for Children, Schools and Families) (2008) The Education of Children and Young People with BESD. London: DCSF De Bellis, M., Keshavan, M., Beers, S., Frustaci, K., Masalehdan, A. et al. (2001) ‘Sex differences in brain maturation during childhood and adolescence’. Cerebral Cortex 11(6): 552–7. Dix, P. (2010) The Essential Guide to Taking Care of Behaviour. Gosport: Pearson Education. Ellis, S. and Tod, J. (2009) Behaviour for Learning. London: Routledge. Emblem, B., Leonard, J., Dale, K., Redmond, J. and Bowes, R. (2000) ‘The challenge of Class Six’. In D. Hewett, Challenging Behaviour. London: David Fulton Publishers. Erickson, K., Drevets, W. and Schulkin, K. (2003) ‘Glucocorticoid regulation of diverse cognitive functions in normal and pathological emotional states’. Neuroscience and Biobehavioural Reviews 27: 233–46. Geake, J. (2009) The Brain at School. Glasgow: Open University Press. Geddes, H. (2008) Attachment in the Classroom. Kings Lynn: Worth Publishing. Gerhardt, S. (2004) Why Love Matters: How Affection Shapes a Baby’s Brain. London: Routledge. Gioia, G., Isquith, P., Steven, G. and Kenworthy, L. (2011) Behavior Rating Inventory of Executive Function (BRIEF). Lutz, FL: Psychological Assessment Resources Inc. Gureasko-Moore, S., DuPaul, G.J. and White, G. (2006) ‘The effects of self-management in general education classrooms on the organizational skills of adolescents with ADHD’. Behavior Modification 30(2): 159–83. Hammack, P., Robinson, W., Crawford, I. and Li, S. (2004) ‘Poverty and depressed mood among urban African-American adolescents: A family stress perspective’. Journal of Child and Family Studies 13(3): 309–23. Hart, B. and Risley, T. (1995) Meaningful Differences in the Everyday Experience of Young American Children. Baltimore, MD: Brookes Publishing. Holowenko, H. (1999) Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder: A Multidisciplinary Approach. London: Jessica Kingsley Publishers. Jensen, E. (2009) Teaching with Poverty in Mind. Alexandria, VA: ASCD. Johnson, D. (1981) ‘Naturally acquired learned helplessness: The relationship of school failure to achievement behaviour, attributions, and self-concept’. Journal of Educational Psychology 73(2): 174–80. Johnston-Brooks, C., Lewis, M., Evans, G. and Whalen, C. (1998) ‘Chronic stress and illness in children: The role of allostatic load’. Psychosomatic Medicine 60(5): 597–603. Levin, H. and Hanten, G. (2005) ‘Executive functions after traumatic brain injury in children’. Pediatric Neurology 33(2): 79–93. Lewis, T. and Newcomer, L. (2005) ‘Reducing problem behaviour through school-wide systems of positive behaviour support’. In P. Clough, P. Garner, J.T. Pardeck and F. Yuen (eds), Handbook of Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. London: Sage Publications. Lupien, S., King, S., Meaney, M. and McEwen, B. (2001) ‘Can poverty get under your skin? Basal cortisol levels and cognitive function in children from low and high socio-economic status’. Developmental Psychopathology 13(930): 653–76. McCloskey, G., Perkins, L. and Van Divner, B. (2009) Assessment and Intervention for Executive Function Difficulties. London: Routledge. McKinnon, J. (2010) Unchanged Mind: The Problem of Immaturity in Adolescence. New York: Lantern Books. McWhirter, J., McWhirter, B., McWhirter, A. and McWhirter, E. (1998) At-Risk Youth: A Comprehensive Response. Pacific Grove, CA: Brooks/Cole Publishing. Mahony, T. (2007) Making Your Words Work. Trowbridge: Crown House Publishing. Martin, G. and Pear, J. (1999) Behaviour Modification. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall. Miranda, A., Presentacion, M.J. and Soriano, M. (2002) ‘Effectiveness of a school-based multi-component program for the treatment of children with ADHD’. Journal of Learning Disabilities 35(6): 546–62. Ofsted (2005) Managing Challenging Behaviour. London: Ofsted. ——(2010) Annual Report of Her Majesty’s Chief Inspector. London: Ofsted. Palmer, S. (2006) Toxic Childhood. London: Orion Books. Pearce, C. (2009) A Short Introduction to Attachment and Attachment Disorder. London: Jessica Kingsley Publishers. Perry, B. (2006) The Boy Who was Raised as a Dog. New York: Basic Books. Rutter, M. and Smith, D. (1995) Psychosocial Disorders in Young People. Chichester: John Wiley & Sons. Shapiro, E. and Kratochwill, T. (2000) Conducting School-based assessments of child and adolescent behaviour. London: The Guilford Press. 235

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Sousa, D. (ed.) (2010) Mind, Brain and Education. Bloomington, IN: Solution Tree Press. Weizman, Z. and Snow, C.E. (2001) ‘Lexical input as related to children’s vocabulary acquisition: Effects of sophisticated exposure and support for meaning’. Developmental Psychology 37: 265–79. Wommack, J. and Delville, Y. (2004) ‘Behavioural and neuro-endocrine adaptations to repeated stress during puberty in male golden hamsters’. Journal of Neuro-endocrinology 16 (9): 767–75.

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26 Communicating with children in the classroom Bill Rogers

This chapter considers the kinds of language that teachers use in classroom settings, when addressing distracting and disruptive behaviours. It explores and develops the specific nature and use of such language in terms of how language enables and guides students to relate to their behaviour in a way that enhances behaviour ownership and the rights of others in the classroom. Practical examples are drawn from the author’s own work.

Communication and behaviour leadership Take two teachers acting very differently: Jayson (Year 9, aged 13) has been diagnosed with attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD); he’s on medication. He’s late to class yet again. He bangs the classroom door as he makes his ‘grand entrance’. Jayson walks past the teacher, who calls him back: ‘Hey! Come here.’ Jayson grins at his mates as he turns in midstride ‘What!?’ ‘Don’t you talk to me like that!’ Jayson says, ‘Like what?’ ‘Why are you late?’ Jayson raises his eyes, sighing extravagantly, ‘I got here as quick as I could!’ He walks off. ‘Oi, I haven’t finished!’ says his teacher. Many students in the class are enjoying this ‘theatre’, some annoyed and frustrated, a few anxious. The teacher wants to ‘win’ something here. It’s his first few lessons with this class. His belief that ‘I must win here … ’ clearly affects his communication. He is visibly tense, he looks ‘threatened’. His voice is sharp, his language seeks to do what he’s believing. He’s trying to control. They continue to argue. The teacher says there will be a detention. Jayson walks off slamming the door muttering an expletive. His teacher takes some time to regain self-control and refocus the class. In a different class, a different teacher meets the same student: Jayson is five minutes late. He swaggers in with a loud grin. The teacher stops the flow of the lesson and turns to face Jayson. She briefly cues the class, ‘Excuse me everyone’ (after 237

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all, they’ve got to put up with Jayson’s attentional distraction of the lesson). As he goes to walk off she calls him over: ‘Jayson … ’. She briefly pauses, to sustain some eye contact. He saunters over, eyes raised to the ceiling and sighing. She tactically ignores these ‘secondary behaviours’ (the sigh, the raised eyes, the saunter); she focuses on the ‘primary behaviour’ at that point; directing Jayson to a seat and refocusing whole-class teaching. ‘Good morning and welcome to our class’ (in this she is pleasant, not sarcastic). ‘I notice you’re late.’ This brief descriptive comment said calmly, quietly. She doesn’t ask him ‘why’ he’s late; the ‘reason’ is not relevant now. ‘Take a seat, thanks.’ She beckons, with her hand, to a spare seat. He swaggers over. She tactically ignores this as she quickly re-engages the attention of the class and the flow of the lesson. She welcomes, describes, directs the individual student while keeping the class focused; and—above all—she conveys respect. She will address the issue of his lateness at the end of the lesson. The audience of peers know the difference (in this teacher) between tactical ignoring and the kind of ignoring that ‘hopes’ distracting behaviour will simply go away! Later in the lesson Jayson engages in a number of distractions: calling out, butting in and task avoidance. On each occasion the teacher seeks to keep the focus of her communication directed to his primary behaviour and not get drawn in, or over-focus on, his ‘secondary’ behaviours. She is particularly aware of communicating a sense of calmness and avoidance of arguing with her students (see Rogers 2000, 2002a, 2003, 2009, 2011, for further discussion of tactical ignoring and other aspects of classroom management). The teacher’s approach sees a developing and workable relationship with Jayson over the next few weeks. While she cannot plan for every contingency, she has developed her behaviour leadership by consciously reflecting on her characteristic communication. This is more than mere personality. Any communication—regarding attentional and challenging student behaviour—is affected by a number of crucial understandings (Rogers 2000, 2002a):  Our characteristic tone of voice and manner. Students quickly pick up our confidence, expectation and intent from tone of voice and body language as well as the specific language we use. While we all have days when we’re tired, jaded, rushed, our students make assessments about us based on the characteristic way we communicate as we lead, teach and build relationships with them.  Our establishment of clear, fair rules and routines based on core rights such as: the right to feel safe; the right to learn (without undue, unfair distraction and disruption); and the right to respect and fair treatment. Discussing, establishing and maintaining such rights are essential to authoritative, respectful, leadership.  Our aims in our behaviour leadership and discipline seek to enable and engage the student/s to be aware of and take ownership of their behaviour. Take the common example of calling out behaviour. Assuming that we have a clear, fair, discussed rule/expectation about asking questions, or cues for discussion, there is a difference between the language cue (by a teacher) of ‘Don’t call out … ’, compared with ‘Jayson … you’re calling out … . Remember our class rule for asking questions, thanks’. In this last example the teacher ‘describes’ the student’s behaviour (to raise behaviour awareness) and then briefly pauses, to sustain attention, and gives a clear rule reminder. What we say, therefore, in those immediate emotional moments when students are distracting and disruptive is affected by those aims. In this sense our language ‘forms’ are an essential feature of our leadership with respect to our aims. 238

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Case example Kris (aged six) has been diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder. When he is calling out, and touching/poking others (during whole-class teaching time), his teacher is naturally annoyed. She tells him several times ‘to sit up properly’. It has little effect on his awareness or his behaviour. When giving behaviour directions to young children (see Rogers and McPherson 2008) it is important to be specific and context-specific with our language, particularly with those diagnosed with autistic spectrum disorders (ASD). What does the adverb ‘properly’ mean to Kris? To the other children it means ‘we sit (on the carpet area) comfortably without touching others; we face the front (of the classroom) and listen (we listen with our eyes and ears); if we want to ask a question we raise our hand (without calling out, or finger clicking) and we wait for our teacher to call on us’. All the behavioural aspects of the class rule should be discussed (day one) and maintained by encouragement and, where necessary, positive correction. While sitting on the mat—considerately—is a quickly learned behaviour for most students, with Kris we had to back up our specific classroom cueing with an individual behaviour plan. Over a number of 10-minute, one-to-one sessions (at lunchtimes, three times a week initially), we taught the above behaviours through a simple social story card: a ‘stick figure drawing’ illustrating the above behaviours. Kris was thus ‘portrayed’ sitting on the carpet area (smiling) with his hand up looking at his teacher. The other students were drawn sitting, smiling, looking at their teacher reading a class story. This social story card was used to specifically teach Kris, one-to-one, how to sit and share during whole-class teaching time. We then modelled the behaviours and Kris practised these in the one-to-one setting. We had regular, brief practice sessions to fine-tune these behaviour skills and to address other classroom behaviours with which Kris was struggling, such as loud voice usage, time on-task, distracting others (Rogers 2003, 2005).1 The picture cues, the practice sessions, the specific (and calm) language reminders and encouragement during class time saw a significant change in Kris’s behaviour over the following weeks.

What we can and cannot control Many teachers work with children who present with behaviours that are very challenging to teachers.2 There are many factors in the lives of some of our students that we cannot control: family dysfunction; poor or inadequate diet; substance abuse; generational poverty; long-term unemployment; values inimical to what we seek to teach in schools (racist, homophobic, sexist, intolerant religious views). We can, however, create, enable, sustain and directly affect a safe, sane, secure place in our schools for our students for the time they are with us (Robertson 1989). Indeed, we must. Unless our students feel safe, their ‘formal’ learning and incidental learning will be seriously compromised. Instead of over-focusing on what we cannot ‘control’ (in our students’ lives), we always ask ourselves what we can do to enable, support and affirm our students for the third of the day while they are with us at school. We also avoid ‘re-victimising’ a student because of home backgrounds or diagnosed (or symptomatic) behaviour disorders. The author and his colleagues have found that when we enable and teach positive behaviours at the school level it has a significant effect on a student’s learning potential and their ability to relate more effectively to their peers. Our expectations about positive behaviour are taught directly and indirectly by the way we characteristically communicate. We have found the following language forms helpful in enabling positive expectations and relationships with our students. 239

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Language ‘forms’ Giving directions: a behaviour direction should focus the student’s attention to the desired expected behaviour wherever possible. For example, a student is calling out in whole-class teaching time. The teacher says, ‘Don’t call out, please’. This only tells the student what we don’t want him to do, even if we add ‘please’. When a teacher says, ‘Sean … hands up, thanks’, she is directing the student’s awareness and attention to the expected behaviour. We will need to add a brief qualifier at times, e.g. ‘Sean … hands up—without calling out—thanks’. The over-use of ‘don’t’, ‘no’, ‘can’t’ can—often—create a negative tone in our behaviour leadership. Contrast the following: ‘Craig … sitting on the floor, thanks’, with ‘Don’t rock on your chair.’ ‘Paul … Mohammed … Looking this way and listening, thanks’, rather than ‘ … don’t talk when I’m teaching.’ Always use the student’s first name. A brief tactical pause … will often enable, and focus, a student’s attention. We also find ‘thanks’ is more expectational than ‘please’ (it’s not a request). (For further discussion on giving directions, see e.g. Rogers 2000.)

Non-verbal cues With younger students we’ll often add a non-verbal cue to ‘kinaesthetically strengthen’ the language (as it were). With Kris (the young lad diagnosed with ASD), when we direct him to ‘face the front and listen (with eyes and ears) and hands in your lap like this … ’ the teacher nonverbally (and briefly) models ‘hands in lap’. With students who call out she’ll put her hand up to non-verbally cue what she directs, ‘Hands up, thanks’ (further discussion in Rogers 2000).

Directions as reminders ‘Remember our class rule for discussion time.’ This to the whole class prior to questions/discussion. ‘Michael … remember our class rule for discussion.’ This to an individual calling out with his hand up. ‘Remember our rule for partner voices … ’ This to a couple of students chatting loudly during on-task learning time. Contrast ‘Remember to … ’, with ‘Don’t forget to … ’ When we say ‘ … don’t forget’ we’re actually using two negatives (we want the student/s to remember rather than forget).

Incidental directions With older, primary-aged children (onwards) we can often raise a student’s behaviour awareness through a descriptive comment, e.g. ‘Craig … Deon … you’re chatting—it’s whole-class teaching time’. The teacher then resumes the flow of the lesson (giving the students take-up time). If several students are chatting, we will give a brief whole-class description: ‘A number of students are chatting … ’ The teacher says this calmly as she scans the faces of her students. She allows for brief tactical pausing, to let the descriptive cue ‘connect’, as it were. Incidental directions are effective in cueing distracting behaviours (rather than serious disruptive behaviours). Brett is wandering during on-task learning time. His teacher walks over and quietly says, ‘I notice you’re wandering … ’ (she briefly, quietly, pleasantly describes his behaviour). ‘What are 240

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you supposed to be doing?’ She asks a direct question (following the descriptive comment) to focus his behaviour. She doesn’t ask ‘why’ he’s wandering—it’s not relevant (now). Brett procrastinates, ‘I was just getting something from Travis … ’ The teacher tactically ignores Brett’s sighing, and raised eyes (his ‘secondary behaviour’). She doesn’t argue; she re-directs: ‘What are you supposed to be doing?’ He slopes off and slumps into his chair. She walks off to give him some take-up time. This conveys her expectation of his ‘co-operation’; it also defuses residual tension. She goes back to encourage him when he’s making an effort to focus on his work.

Conditional directions as a form of choice: ‘Yes … then’ An infant student wants to play on the ‘activities table’: ‘Miss can I go play now?’ ‘Yes, Connor, when you have finished the work … ’ She reminds him about the task—again. He whines and protests (she tactically ignores). She repeats ‘when … then’. As he sulkily finishes his work, she walks off, conveying take-up time. Contrast ‘when … then’, with ‘No you can’t because … ’

Box 26.1 When giving encouragement Encouragement is a crucial aspect of our leadership and our overall communication with our students. It enables a student’s self-confidence and development and builds positive relational bonds between teacher and students.  Focus on the student’s effort: ‘Kris … you’re remembering to use your partner voice.’ This is said as a quiet, positive word during on-task teaching time. Descriptive feedback lets the student know how they are developing, progressing in their work and their behaviour. This can be as ‘basic’ as talking through their work with them: acknowledging, describing, commenting and affirming.  Avoid easy use of global praise: ‘Brilliant!’ ‘Fantastic!’ ‘Great!’  Older students get embarrassed by ‘loud’ ‘praising’—a quiet word, aside, as we give feedback about work or behaviour is appreciated.  Avoid qualifying: ‘Why can’t you do that (the appropriate behaviour) all the time?’ ‘If only you would/could … ’ ‘You’ve written an interesting description of … but your writing is too messy.’ This last word discounts the encouraging word (discussed further in Rogers 2000: chapter 2; see also Rogers 2005).

Humour The appropriate, thoughtful use of humour can defuse and deflect tension and stress as well as refocus student attention and awareness (Cornett 1986; Rogers 2000; Fovet 2009). In a mentor class (Year 10) the author noticed a student reading The Sun (a popular, English ‘easy-read’ newspaper) instead of doing her maths. As he walked across, she tried to hide it under her text book. He greeted her and asked her how it was all going. She sighed and frowned, ‘OK—but I don’t like maths’. Partial agreement can often help: ‘It can be annoying to do work you don’t like—how can I help?’ She grumbled and sighed as we got back to the maths. As he left (to work with other students) he quietly added a brief descriptive comment, ‘I notice The Sun newspaper there?’ She grinned, ‘I wasn’t reading it!’ He replied with deep seriousness, ‘I’m really disappointed’. ‘What?’ She seemed perplexed. He added, ‘I wouldn’t have minded if it was The 241

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Independent or The Guardian’ (‘serious’ papers in England requiring considerable reading ability). He left with a quiet, directed ‘choice’: ‘I want you to put it on my desk or in your bag. I’ll come back and have a look at your work later’ (take-up time—see Rogers 2000, 2009, 2011).

Directed choices Students often bring iPods, phones (and other objets d’art) into class. Some will use them during on-task learning time. Rather than asking them ‘why’ they’ve got an iPod on in class time (or simply asking them to hand it over, or threatening them with detention), we find it less intrusive to focus first on a greeting and focus the student to the learning activity. Melissa is half doing her class work and listening to her iPod. The teacher walks across and first greets Melissa and then focuses their shared attention on the class work. In this she is being ‘least intrusive’. ‘Hi Melissa … how’s the work going?’ (‘Where are you up to?’/’Can I help?’) The teacher then gives a directed choice: ‘I notice you’ve got an iPod there (brief description). You know the school rule. I want you to put it on my desk or in your bag’ (the directed choice). If students prevaricate, or argue (very common in our first few classes)—‘Other teachers don’t care!’—we re-focus again, to the fair rule and the ‘choice’. (All such ‘choices’ occur within school rules/expectations.) At this point the teacher walks away, giving the student take-up time. With a confident, respectful teacher such take-up time conveys expectation of co-operation (Rogers 2011). The teacher has kept the focus of this transaction directed to the primary issue (the fair rule about iPods). She tactically ignores the ‘secondary behaviours’ (the sigh, the mutter, the whine, the raised eyes). If any student makes a habit of such behaviours, she will follow up with those students one to one (in non-class time). In these one-to-one meetings we are better able to raise a student’s self-awareness about their behaviour and work with them to support. Most students do put their toys or iPods away when teachers use a confident, respectful, directed choice and take-up time is given. Teachers sometimes walk over to students and simply demand that they hand over distracting objets d’art, with heated arguments following: ‘I don’t care who lets you play iPods, you will not have them in my class, now hand it over.’ ‘No way!’—the student refuses. The teacher makes this small issue one over which they have to win: ‘Right, you can get out of my class NOW!’ The student also sees it as a ‘contest’, and as she leaves, the audience of peers confirms it: ‘I’m going—it’s a shit class anyway!’

Clarifying behaviour consequences If a student does not respond reasonably to a fair, clear direction, reminder or directed choice, we will need to clarify the consequences. A student (as above) continues to fiddle with their iPod. The teacher has already given a directed choice (and take-up time). The teacher comes back to the student and quietly, calmly raises the consequential possibility. ‘Melissa, you’ve still got your iPod there. If you choose to keep it here I’ll have to follow this up in your own time.’ The student— again—argues, ‘But I’m not even using it!’ The teacher reaffirms the consequence and walks away (take-up time), leaving the student with their consequential responsibility. The student mutters, ‘Don’t care!’ The teacher will follow through with the student either after class or at a nominated lunchtime ‘chat’. 242

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Box 26.2 The least- to most-intrusive principle Effective (and respectful) behaviour leadership requires teachers to think through the sorts of things they will need to say to address the range of distracting and disruptive behaviours in a typical classroom (or non-classroom) setting. The ‘degree of teacher intrusion’ is affected by context and level of student distraction or disruption. At the least-intrusive level, teachers will be using a range of non-verbal cues, incidental directions, rule reminders, direct questions. Where they need to be more intrusive (in their management language), they will need to use directed ‘choices’: the consequence clarifier—the reminder for deferred, or immediate, consequences to the student. Where behaviour is potentially dangerous, or student safety is compromised, we will need to use commands, or appropriate use of time-out.

The key to applying any behaviour consequence is not how ‘severe’ we make it, but that we will carry the consequence through with fair, respectful certainty (even if it is only a brief chat about refusal to put objets d’art away within school-wide rules).

Using questions One of the most common—but least effective—behaviour questions is the interrogate ‘why?’ or ‘are you?’ (Rogers 2000). In the author’s mentoring work, teachers can be heard saying things like: ‘Why are you calling out … ?’, ‘Why haven’t you started work yet?’, ‘You’re not supposed to be wandering around in class, now are you?’ ‘Are you late?!’ This to a student who arrives five minutes after class has started (of course he’s late!). A student has not started his class work yet (though he is able to do it). He could be having a bad day, it could be laziness, or task avoidance. The teacher walks over and first greets him: ‘Hi Shannon … how’s the work going?’ ‘I don’t like Maths.’ The teacher partially agrees, ‘It can be difficult doing what you don’t like. What are you supposed to be doing? Let’s have a look … ’ Direct questions—‘What … ?’ ‘Where … ?’ ‘When … ?’ ‘How … ?’—enable a student to focus on the immediate (and fair) behaviour expectations rather than enter into a discussion about ‘why’.

Assertive statements/commands When students behave unsafely, dangerously or abusively (say when a student swears at a teacher), we need to communicate with decisive assertion: e.g. ‘Nazim … I don’t swear at you … I don’t expect you to swear at me.’ ‘I don’t make comments about your body (or clothing, or sexuality … ) I don’t expect … ’ (this to a sexist comment by a student). When students protest, ‘I was just joking!’, a brief, assertive point is made: ‘It’s not a joke to me—it stops now.’ When we use an ‘I’ statement (as above), our tone and manner and body language needs to be decisive, clear, firm and calm. It is not an argument, it is a decisive comment or command (Rogers 2000). Communicating calmness is not inconsistent with the need to be assertive. Kyle (aged six) is stabbing at his worksheet with a pair of scissors. His teacher reminded him earlier about using scissors carefully or he would have to do other work (a directed choice). She walks over to Kyle’s table group (she had noticed the anxiety of the other children). 243

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‘Kyle … Kyle … put the scissors down, on the table—now.’ No need for please—it’s not a request. He protests, ‘I’ll be alright now!’ She firmly, calmly re-asserts ‘ … now.’ He slams the scissors down. His teacher directs him to come with her to ‘cool-off time’ (time-out in the classroom). He whines loudly, ‘No Miss—I’ll be alright!’ She firmly repeats the command: ‘Come with me … ’ She walks off (to convey her expectation); he follows, stamping his feet: ‘I DON’T LIKE YOU!’ She tactically ignores this as she takes him to the time-out area. The rest of the class draw security from her firm calmness (I know, I was there). She does not shout at Kyle, or ‘plea bargain’, or argue; she carries through the time-out consequence (five minutes to calm, settle, think) with fair certainty. She will also have a brief chat with him later (after class time).

Time-out When working with challenging student behaviours it is essential to have a clear, school-wide time-out plan and practice (Rogers 2000). This plan has to be able to accommodate in-class time-out options (at infant level) through colleague support options—including senior colleague support. No student has a right to—effectively—’hold a class to ransom’ by repeated distracting, unsafe, threatening or dangerous behaviours. When a teacher needs to use time-out options it is crucial they do so in a calm, firm manner. This is as important for the student who is behaving in a repeatedly disruptive way, as it is for the students who are the peer ‘audience’. Any teacher who utilises a time-out option should follow-up and follow-through with that student at the earliest opportunity.

The essential caveat It is easy to write about positive language and communicating calmness even when being assertive— but difficult to communicate this way in the day-to-day reality of a busy classroom where distractions and disruptions occur in the immediate emotional moment. At that point we rarely have ‘time’ to think out (or about) the more appropriate or apposite thing to say—and we have to do, and say, something. We should always distinguish between bad-day syndrome (in our leadership) and what we characteristically say and do in our behaviour leadership (Rogers 2002b, 2005).

Conclusion The language ‘forms’ discussed in this chapter are not formulaic; they provide a framework for reflection around what we say when we communicate. This includes our conveyed intent (and our care and respect) in behaviour management and discipline contexts. The writer and his colleagues have frequently sat together and reflected on what we say and do in management and discipline contexts; why we choose one ‘form’ of language over another. We are fallible (obviously); we get tired, even jaded at times by the natural demands made on our behaviour leadership. Thinking through our characteristic communication has enabled us to lead and manage more positively, less stressfully and—above all—to build and sustain workable relationships with our students.

Notes 1 For a comprehensive discussion and practical application of individual behaviour plans, see Rogers 2003; Edwards and Watts 2008; Rogers 2009; and also Rogers 2005 in Clough et al. 2005. 2 As Paul Cooper (2005: 106) notes, ‘It is estimated that at least ten per cent of the student population is, at any one time, affected with SEBD [social, emotional and behavioural difficulties] … across the range of educational provision’. 244

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References Clough, P., Garner, P., Pordeck, J.T. and Yuen, F. (2005) Handbook of Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. London: Sage Publications. Cooper, P. (2005) ‘Biology and behaviour: The educational reference of a biopsychosocial perspective’. In P. Clough, P. Garner, J.T. Pardeck and F. Yuen (eds), Handbook of Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. London: Sage Publications, 105–22. Cornett, C.E. (1986) Learning Through Laughter: Humour in the Classroom. Bloomington, IN: Phi delta Kappa Educational Foundation. Edwards, C.H. and Watts, V. (2008) Classroom Discipline and Management, second Australian edn. Richmond, Australia: John Wiley and Sons Australia. Fovet, F. (2009) ‘The use of humour in classroom interventions with students with social, emotional and behavioural difficulties’. Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 14(4): 275–90. Ginott, H. (1971) Teacher and Child: A Book for Parents and Teachers. New York: Macmillan. Robertson, J. (1989) Effective Classroom Control: Understanding Teacher-student Relationships. London: Hodder and Stoughton. Rogers, B. (2000) Behaviour Management: A Whole-school Approach. London: Chapman. ——(2002a) Classroom Behaviour: A Practical Guide to Effective Teaching, Behaviour Management and Colleague Support. London: Chapman. ——(2002b) Teacher Leadership and Behaviour Management. London: Chapman. ——(2003) Behaviour Recovery: Practical Programs for Challenging Children, second edn. London: Sage Publications. ——(2005) Teaching Students with Emotional and Behavioural Disorders. In P. Clough, P. Garner, J.T. Pordeck and F. Yuen (eds), Handbook of Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. London: Sage Publications, chapter 15, 245–259. ——(2009) How to Manage Children’s Challenging Behaviour, second edn. London: Sage Publications. ——(2011) Classroom Behaviour: A Practical Guide to Effective Teaching, Behaviour Management and Colleague Support. London: Sage Publications. Rogers, B. and McPherson, E. (2008) Behaviour Management With Young Children: Crucial First Steps With Children 3–7 Years. London: Sage Publications.

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27 Pupil voice and participation Empowering children with emotional and behavioural difficulties Paula Flynn, Michael Shevlin and Anne Lodge

Introduction The pertinent issues with respect to mainstream Irish schools which provided the impetus for this study include: the policy of inclusion; challenging behaviour; ‘pupil voice’; and emotional and behavioural difficulties (EBD) in children. Encounters with a number of children in mainstream education experiencing palpable unhappiness, despair and struggle, instigated a need to understand what could address their difficulties and led to the initiation of this research study. Most of the children who fell into that category had one or more of the array of difficulties encompassed within EBD. The overriding objective of this pupil voice research (PVR) from the outset has been to determine the impact on a sample group of participating pupils with EBD when their voices are listened to and they are encouraged to become ‘active agents’ in transforming their experience of school.

Context and background The inclusive policy of mainstreaming students with disabilities in Irish education is in accordance with legislation: Education Act 1998; Education for Persons with Special Educational Needs (EPSEN) Act 2004; Equal Status Acts 2000–2008; Disability Act 2005. Similar to provision in the UK and influenced by The Warnock Report1 (Department of Education and Science 1978), children with EBD in Ireland are designated as having special educational needs under the definition currently in use since the EPSEN Act 2004, where they are assessed as in need of resource support: a restriction in the capacity of the person to participate in and benefit from education on account of an enduring physical, sensory health or learning disability, or any other condition which results in a person learning differently from a person without that difficulty. (Government of Ireland 2004: 6) The Irish National Educational Psychological Service (NEPS) uses the term EBD to refer to ‘difficulties which a pupil or young person is experiencing which act as a barrier to their personal, social, 246

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cognitive and emotional development. These difficulties may be communicated through internalizing and/or externalizing behaviours’ (NEPS 2010: 4). Although there is evidence that student behaviour has not deteriorated to any large extent in recent years (Steer 2009), there is still recognition that most schools experience some form of disruptive behaviour (NBSS 2010: 2). The Report of the Task Force on Student Behaviour in Second Level Schools, School Matters, acknowledges that although challenging behaviour is containable and amenable to correction in the majority of schools in Ireland, ‘the troubling reality is that there are schools in the system where teaching and learning are severely curtailed by disruptive student behaviour’ (Department of Education and Skills 2006: 6). The National Behaviour Support Service (NBSS) was established in response to the report in 2006, ‘with a brief to provide support to those schools experiencing persistent and serious disruptive student behaviour’ (NBSS 2010: v). Both nationally and internationally, there has been a growing recognition of the importance of children’s rights, especially influenced by the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (Rudduck and McIntyre 2007; Shevlin and Rose 2003, 2008; UNCRC 1989). The UNCRC challenged the treatment of children and sought to improve this by affirming their need for ‘special consideration’, enshrining a number of rights including Articles 12, 13, 23 and 28, the inherent significance to this research of which, is their emphasis on:  ‘voice’ through rights to express views and freedom of expression;  the implication for students with EBD within a designation of Special Educational Needs/ Disability and the associated difficulties for some children within this spectrum with challenging behaviour and ensuing discipline difficulties; and  the right to participate in an education system which should help them determine and reach their full potential. Many of the countries that ratified this treaty have drafted or amended legislation to draw upon principles in relation to children in their respective states. Accordingly, Ireland ratified the treaty in September 1992, which subsequently led to the publication of a 10-year National Children’s Strategy (NCS), the creation of the Office of the Ombudsman for Children, and the appointment of a Minister for Children. With these developments, Ireland has made a clear commitment to the rights of children and demonstrated that commitment in the vision of the NCS: ‘An Ireland where children are respected as young citizens with a valued contribution to make and a voice of their own’ (National Children’s Strategy 2000: 5).

Pupil voice Within educational research and reform, the issue of ‘pupil voice’ is not a new phenomenon. There was vigorous pursuit of pupil voice research (PVR) in the late 1960s and 1970s, ‘driven by the desire to build a fuller understanding of life in classrooms and schools’ (Rudduck and McIntyre 2007: 3). However, although this research yielded evidence that pupil voice had an important contribution to make, ‘there was no general expectation, as there is now, that the data would be fed back to teachers and pupils as a basis for informed action’ (Rudduck and McIntyre 2007: 21). Since the 1990s there has been steadily increasing interest in the involvement and voice of young people in educational research from the USA (Levin 1994; Weis and Fine 1993), to the UK (Fielding and Bragg 2003; Flutter and Rudduck 2004) and Ireland (Kenny et al. 2000; Lynch and Lodge 2002; Shevlin and Rose 2008), and the ongoing seven-year National Longitudinal Study of Children, Growing up in Ireland (ESRI 2007). Despite the contention that with the engagement of student voice comes the potential to improve teacher-pupil alliances and the quality of school life, which may empower marginalized 247

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pupils (Tangen 2009), it is also evident that some groups of children and young people are seldom given a voice: specifically, children under the age of five; children with disabilities; and children from ethnic minorities (Clark et al. 2003). Although there have been many studies that focus on the perceptions of pupils in mainstream education, very few have focused on pupils with EBD (Cefai and Cooper 2010; Davies 2005). This is in spite of evidence which shows that the empowerment of students with EBD can contribute to the resolution and prevention of some of the associated difficulties experienced by these students in school (Cefai and Cooper 2010; Norwich and Kelly 2006). In much of the literature, children are acknowledged as having an expert role with respect to the knowledge and understanding of what it is like to be a student in a particular school (e.g. Cooper 1996; Rose and Shevlin 2010), and for that reason are the best sources of that information. A significant question posed by Arnot et al. (2001, cited in Rudduck and Demetriou 2003: 278) which is particularly relevant when embarking on PVR with students with EBD, is ‘In the acoustic of the school, whose voice gets listened to?’ The UNCRC warned that ‘ … appearing to listen to children is relatively unchallenging; giving due weight to their views requires real change’ (UNCRC 2005: 4). This directive challenges how and why we listen to children. It is essential that the act of listening to pupils who agree to participate in PVR should be ‘purposeful’ and ‘significant’; in other words, the experience needs to be ‘authentic’ rather than ‘tokenistic’, and should generate some experience of acknowledgement or change or transformative action, as appropriate. However, it is equally significant to address ‘how what is said gets heard’ and its dependence on ‘not only who says it but on style and language’ (Rudduck and McIntyre 2007: 164). Robinson and Taylor claim that some schools listen only to the articulate and able students, or ‘those who agree with what the school wants to hear’, and argue that for PVR to be meaningful, ‘schools need to think carefully about who they listen to, how they listen to pupils and what they listen to pupils about’ (Robinson and Taylor 2007: 10). This argument is particularly significant if we are convinced of the need for input from children in order to determine the kind of education they think would facilitate their needs and well-being while at the same time include those students who are disaffected, disengaged and perhaps at risk of social exclusion. It is indeed paradoxical that ‘those pupils, who literally often speak or shout loudest in the classroom, are those whose voices are most seldom heard’ (Tangen 2009: 841).

Power relations The significance of power relations in relation to ‘social justice’ has been asserted and reiterated in Young (1990); Fraser (2000); and Lynch and Lodge (2002). Although their relationships with teachers are very important to pupils with EBD (Cefai and Cooper 2010; Cooper 2011; Davies 2005; Jelly et al. 2000; Sellman 2009), these relationships are sometimes imbued with negative perceptions of power and authority. Understanding and addressing how perceptions could be changed on both sides of the relationship may enable a collaborative approach and positive change in the power dynamic. Cefai and Cooper contend that a change in the power dynamics that exist between teachers and pupils is needed whereby pupil voice is not seen as pupils taking over, but rather a collaborative and democratic process in learning and behaviour control (Cefai and Cooper 2010: 194–5). Power relations, nonetheless, are also significant for pupils in their relationships with their peers, especially for children who are perceived as ‘different’. For students with EBD who may present with behaviours on a spectrum that renders them silent and invisible through to deviant and challenging, there are implications also within these relationships that are tied to notions of ‘normality’ and ‘abnormality’. This can also lead to a sense of powerlessness and rejection (Lynch and Lodge 2002: 131). Children can be very intolerant of the ‘other’ amongst 248

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them, which Young (1990) describes as cultural imperialism, culminating in an experience for some pupils of ‘invisibility’ or ‘negative stereotyping’, which may further legitimate acts of violence being used against them and/or the negative internalization of stereotyping to which a group is subjected (Lynch and Lodge 2002: 132).

Empowerment and voice for pupils with EBD This research is situated within a transformative paradigm as the objective is not just to describe an educational experience, but rather to change it. The aim of the research was to ‘listen’ to pupils who had been identified with EBD talking about their experience of school and to ask them questions about what they could do differently or what changes needed to occur in their teaching and learning environment to help them reach their potential socially and educationally in mainstream schools. A significant premise to this study is the belief that pupils are experts on their own experience of behaviour and learning in school, and therefore the research was designed within a consultative participatory model in order that they might be empowered to become ‘active agents’ and change, where appropriate and possible, aspects of their involvement and environment in their respective schools. Agreement was sought from principals and Special Educational Needs Coordinators (SENCos) prior to the commencement of the research, to implement or trial interventions that emerged from the consultative process. The samples of pupil participants were selected by their schools and contact with parents and guardians was initiated by the school principals and subsequently followed by preliminary interviews and consent from participating pupils. The research began in 2008/9, with preliminary interviews in two primary and two post-primary schools. Intensive consultation took place during 2009/10 and concluded during 2010/11. The research methods included individual interviews, focus groups, observations, creative workshops and field work/reflective journal. For the purpose of this discussion, focus is concentrated on one of the participant post-primary schools, which is an urban-based, co-educational setting with 677 pupils. Twenty pupils with EBD in this school participated from the beginning, but one student left the study and the school in January 2010. The profiles of the participating pupils ranged from children who suffered from anxiety disorders and poor self-esteem through to attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) and conduct disorder. Discussions and interviews with members of the teaching staff and pupils yielded different perspectives on the benefits of a study of this kind. The school principal and SENCo were, and still are, very invested in the programme and supportive of all the participants within it, but among 45 teachers, 15 were opposed to the idea of eliciting pupil voice (especially pupils with EBD). Many pupils were reticent and suspicious about the process at first, doubting that their views would be taken seriously. Persistence and patience eventually convinced them otherwise and some of the interventions that emerged from consultation with students at this school include:  A Positive Aims Diary designed by the pupils and entitled My PAD, which incorporates contractual language on the part of the pupils in the ‘voice’ of the pupils to their teachers, asking them ‘to observe them’ achieve their goals and ‘notice’ when they are successful.  A mentoring programme between senior and junior students, all of whom had been identified with EBD.  Team-building workshops with their respective class groups, co-ordinated and organized by the pupils on the programme.  ‘Chill out’ cards used when a student needed to calm down or felt very anxious. 249

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 Positive feedback meetings between pupils and teachers on a fortnightly/monthly basis, where all parties report on what has worked well for them during that time.

Two individual case studies Cassie was 14 years old when she was first interviewed. Her psychological assessment indicated that she was introverted, prone to severe agitation and cried easily. Her teachers were often frustrated by her lack of confidence and engagement, noting that she often appeared to hide or ‘appear invisible’ in class. Commenting on this, one of her teachers pointed out that ‘sometimes it is better just to leave her alone, rather than upset her or draw attention to her misery’. As a consequence, Cassie was rarely asked to produce homework and seldom chosen to respond to questions in front of her peers. The consensus among her teachers was to employ this strategy, not because she was badly behaved but rather because they were keen ‘not to increase her anxiety levels’. During interviews with Cassie, when asked what she enjoyed and was good at, invariably the answer was ‘nothing’. However, through the activities in the creative workshops it emerged that she was a talented artist and, consequently, she kept a journal of drawings which were discussed weekly. One day she asked if she could be ‘put on’ My PAD so she could set three positive aims on a weekly basis. She explained that she was conscious that other pupils in her year group who were part of this PVR were enjoying the benefits of using the journal because they were being praised for their efforts in attaining their goals, less often ‘in trouble’ and ‘actually getting on with some of their teachers’. Her perspective of her own experiences in class was that her teachers did not seem to notice her but she wanted the opportunity to set realistic targets for herself so that she too could receive regular acknowledgement and praise for her efforts. She was delighted that the intention behind the diary was to choose one aim that was easy to achieve with the other two progressively more challenging so that every pupil was primed to realize some success. The experience proved successful over time and in feedback Cassie identified the praise, acknowledgement and notice she experienced with this strategy as highly beneficial, improving her confidence and breaking down some boundaries between her and some of her teachers. Consequently, Cassie challenged some of the perceptions of her difficulties and actively collaborated with her teachers in setting targets that impacted on her engagement and learning. She is currently taking part in a modular programme which she enjoys because it facilitates her negotiation of short-term achievement goals. Greg was 12 years old when he first participated in the research and has just recently turned 15. His psychological assessment indicated that he had ADHD, oppositional defiant disorder (ODD) and dyslexia. He readily admitted during his first interview that he had ‘anger issues’ and hated when ‘teachers get in my face’. Greg presented as very confident and quite ‘cocky’ initially, but within four months he admitted that he hated coming into school because nobody ‘got’ him or even liked him, especially his teachers. His aggression and anger had not dissipated at this stage and in some ways his mood seemed to have worsened as he had become more selfcritical and despondent. He proposed trialling the ‘chill out’ card, explaining that sometimes he felt he couldn’t control his outbursts but most of the time he could feel the heat ‘bubbling up inside him’ and knew that he would hit out at somebody or something if he couldn’t get out of the classroom at those times. He believed that a ‘time out’ period of as little as five minutes was all that was needed to calm him down. He was relieved and surprised when his suggestion was implemented and within one week asked to get involved in the mentoring programme. His partner was 17-year-old Niall, who had gained a reputation for being the most challenging pupil in school during the junior cycle (between ages 12 and 15). Niall was pleased to partner Greg and reassured him that he understood his difficulties in school and promised to be there to 250

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listen when he was feeling frustrated. It was organized for Greg to find Niall during his ‘chill out’ times and the two could walk up and down the corridor for a few minutes until Greg felt calmer. At first, his teachers were reluctant both at the partnership and at the prospect of them meeting during class times like this; one teacher warned that he would choose to leave subjects he hated on a regular basis and/or use up his allotted time within a week. Despite this apprehension, Greg surprised everyone by using this facility on two occasions only, one for 10 minutes and the second for less. He explained subsequently that knowing he could, made him feel more relaxed and in control such that he didn’t feel the need to use it again. He was also aware of the trust that had been placed in him and Niall, and wanted the opportunity to prove that they had earned it. Greg agreed, on Niall’s advice, to attend ‘anger-management counselling’ at a facility organized by the school guidance counsellor. It had been suggested to him on many occasions before this, but coming from his mentor it had more credibility. Greg has since offered to become a mentor next year, when he becomes a school senior, to any pupil who is struggling in junior cycle and would value someone who understands their situation.

Interim conclusions Noteworthy themes that have emerged from this research are in line with international literature on PVR and, in particular, research with students with EBD. The importance of positive relationships with teachers is particularly significant (Davies 2005; Sellman 2009; Cefai and Cooper 2010). Initially, some of the participants began the process by claiming that they resented or even hated their teachers. In some cases, after addressing and breaking down attitudes on both sides of the relationship, the students were very quick to admit that this greatly improved their overall experience of school. Another theme that has emerged is the importance of ‘attachment’ to school (Cooper 2008; Smith 2006): being part of a group and identifying with it and/or with the school, ‘knowing someone has my back’ (Brian, 12 years old) (Flynn et al. 2011). For some participants, the significance of being ‘part of a group’ led by extension in some cases (initiated by their own interventions) to inclusive activities with classmates outside the participant group. This postprimary school has extended the co-ordination of some of the activities to include any student who feels that they would benefit from them, and at present My PAD is open to all students and the mentoring programme now has three variations, including models that comprise volunteers from parents and teaching staff. Finally, a significant theme that has emerged is the importance of ‘leadership’ in the school (Shevlin and Flynn 2011). ‘Pupil voice work cannot be realised as an authentic or consultative process unless it is met with some form of acknowledgement and can precipitate real change or transformative action’ (Flynn et al. 2011: 68). Within the remit of this PVR experience, the most significant impact on attitudinal change from students towards teaching staff and vice versa occurred when school leaders, and most especially the principal, became involved with the process. However, facilitating ‘transformation’ and ‘a coherent institutional commitment’ (Fielding and Rudduck 2002), necessitates an obligation which will require ‘leaders’ who encompass all the stakeholders, including the pupils, to promote demonstrable and, ultimately, ‘political’ change.

Note 1 Editors’ note: the Warnock Report was written after a major inquiry in England into educational provision for ‘handicapped’ children and popularised the term ‘special educational needs’ (SENs). It cautiously advocated more ‘integration’ for children with SENs in mainstream schools, but saw a continuing role for special schools, particularly for those with complex needs or severe EBD. It led to

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the English Education Act 1981, which abolished the official categories of handicap (including ‘maladjusted’), but did not prevent the rapid emergence and common use of new labels (such as EBD) at the Department for Education and Science and throughout England.

References Cefai, C. and Cooper, P. (2010) ‘Students without voices: The unheard accounts of secondary school students with social, emotional and behaviour difficulties’. European Journal of Special Needs Education 25: 183–98. Clark, A. et al. (2003) Exploring the Field of Listening to and Consultation with Young Children. Nottingham: DES. Cooper, P. (ed.) (1996) Pupils as Partners: Pupils’ Contributions to the Governance of Schools. London: Routledge. ——(2008) ‘Nurturing attachment to school: Contemporary perspectives on social, emotional and behavioural difficulties’. Pastoral Care in Education 28: 13–22. ——(2011) ‘Teacher strategies for effective intervention with students presenting social, emotional and behavioural difficulties’. European Journal of Special Needs Education 26: 87–92. Davies, J. (2005) ‘Voices from the margins: Perceptions of pupils with emotional and behavioural difficulties about their educational experience’. In P. Clough, P. Garner, J.T. Pardeck and F. Yuen (eds), Handbook of Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. London: Sage Publications, 299–317. Department of Education and Science (1978) Report of the Committee of Inquiry into the Education of Handicapped Children (the Warnock Report). London: HMSO. Department of Education and Skills (1998) Education Act. Dublin: Stationery Office. ——(2005) Disability Act. Dublin: Stationery Office. ——(2006) School Matters: The Report of the Task Force on Student Behaviour in Second Level Schools. Dublin: Stationery Office. Department of Justice (2000–8) Equality and Law Reform. Equal Status Act. Dublin: Stationery Office. ESRI (Economic Social and Research Institute, Trinity College Dublin and Office of the Minister for Children) (2007) Growing Up in Ireland. Dublin: Stationery Office. Fielding, M. and Bragg, S. (2003) Students as Researchers: Making a Difference. Cambridge: Pearson Publishing. Fielding, M. and Rudduck, J. (2002) ‘The transformative potential of student voice: Confronting the power issues’. Paper presented at the Annual Conference of the British Educational Research Association, University of Exeter, England, 12–14 September 2002, www.leeds.ac.uk/educol/documents/00002544. htm (accessed 20 March 2011). Flutter, J. and Rudduck, J. (2004) Consulting Pupils: What’s in it for Schools? London: RoutledgeFalmer. Flynn, P., Shevlin, M. and Lodge, A. (2011) ‘Are you listening? I’m Me!’. Reach 25(1): 60–74. Fraser, N. (2000) ‘Why overcoming prejudice is not enough: A rejoinder to Richard Rorty’. Critical Horizons 1. Government of Ireland (2004) Education for Persons with Special Education Needs Act. Dublin: Stationery Office. Jelly, M., Fuller, A. and Byers, R. (2000) Involving Pupils in Practice: Promoting Partnerships with Pupils with Special Educational Needs. London: David Fulton. Kenny, M., Mcneela, E., Shevlin, M. and Daly, T. (2000) Hidden Voices: Young People with Disabilities Speak about their Second Level Schooling. Cork: SWRA. Levin, B. (1994) ‘Education reform and the treatment of students in schools’. Journal of Educational Thought 28: 88–101. Lynch, K. and Lodge, A. (2002) Equality and Power in Schools: Redistribution, Recognition, and Representation. London: Routledge Falmer. National Children’s Strategy (2000) Our Children—Their Lives. Dublin: Stationery Office. NBSS (National Behaviour Support Service) (2010) Behaviour Support Classrooms: A Research Study of 36 Behaviour Support Classrooms. Dublin: NBSS. NEPS (National Educational Psychological Service) (2010) Behavioural, Emotional and Social Difficulties: A Continuum of Support. Dublin: Stationery Office. Norwich, B. and Kelly, N. (2006) ‘Evaluating children’s participation in SEN procedures: Lessons for educational psychologists’. Educational Psychology in Practice 22: 255–71. Robinson, C. and Taylor, C. (2007) ‘Theorizing student voice: Values and perspectives’. Improving Schools 10(1): 5–17. Rose, R. and Shevlin, M. (2010) Count Me In! Ideas for Actively Engaging Students in Inclusive Classrooms. London: Jessica Kingsley.

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Rudduck, J. and Demetriou, H. (2003) ‘Student perspectives and teacher practices: The transformative potential’. McGill Journal of Education 38: 274–88. Rudduck, J. and McIntyre, D. (2007) Improving Learning through Consulting Pupils. London: Routledge. Sellman, E. (2009) ‘Lessons learned: Student voice at a school for pupils experiencing social, emotional and behavioural difficulties’. Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 14: 33–48. Shevlin, M. and Flynn, P. (2011) ‘School leadership for special educational needs’. In H. O’Sullivan and J. West-Burnham (eds), Leading and Managing Schools. London: Sage, chapter 9, 126–40. Shevlin, M. and Rose, R. (2003) Encouraging Voices: Respecting the Insights of Young People Who Have Been Marginalised. Dublin: NDA. ——(2008) ‘Pupils as partners in education decision-making: Responding to the legislation in England and Ireland’. European Journal of Special Needs Education 23 (4): 423–30. Smith, D.J. (2006) School Experience and Delinquency at ages 13 to 16. Edinburgh: University of Edinburgh, Centre for Law and Society. Steer, A. (2009) Learning Behaviour: Lessons Learned: A Review of Behaviour Standards and Practices in our Schools. Nottingham: DCSF Publications. Tangen, R. (2009) ‘Conceptualising quality of school life from pupils’ perspective: A four dimensional model’. International Journal of Inclusive Education 13(8): 829–44. UNCRC (1989) Convention on the Rights of the Child. New York: UN. ——(2005) General Comment No.5: General Measures of implementation of the Convention of the Rights of the Child. Geneva: UNCRC. Weis, L. and Fine, M. (1993) Beyond Silenced Voices: Class, Race, and Gender in United States Schools. Albany, NY: University of New York Press. Young, I.M. (1990) Five Faces of Oppression, Justice and the Politics of Difference. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

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28 Understanding and responding to angry emotions in children with emotional and behavioural difficulties Adrian Faupel

Emotions, in themselves, are neither good nor bad. Yet some are rightly described as positive and some, including anger, as negative. In evolutionary terms, both positive and negative emotions have been, and remain, necessary for our very survival. In that sense all emotions are good (cf. Gross and Thompson 2007). The distinction between the positive and negative emotions lies partly in their purpose. All biological organisms from the earliest reptiles to Homo sapiens need to be able to respond to, and survive, threats from the environment and from predators. However, at the same time they need opportunities to grow, develop and reproduce. The threats are construed as negative and the opportunities (e.g. food, water, sleep) as positive. Threats produce fear and fear is an unpleasant subjective state, so all the negative emotions are felt as aversive. Yet even these have a positive side to them: negative emotions are rather like pain, which is very negative but also provides the person experiencing it with essential information that all is not well with the body. Paul MacLean’s (1990) simple, but powerful model of the human brain as having three fundamental parts (reptilian, paleo-mammalian and neocortex), helps us to appreciate the importance of the early structures of the brain that perform these essentially biological survival mechanisms. In the ‘reptilian’ brain is found the limbic system and in particular an almondshaped structure called the amygdala. This plays a crucial role in the function of the emotions. However, five-sixths of the human brain is made up of the neocortex, with its distinguishing feature of rationality, associated particularly with the prefrontal cortex. Emotions are essentially to do with the ‘here and now’. They have been described as ‘action tendencies’ (Cole et al. 2004), which operate prior to reason and rationality. The latter are primarily concerned with the future; with the medium- and longer-term pros and cons of actions done in the present. Potentially, these two sources of human behaviour, the now and the future, are in conflict. Emotions are extremely powerful—so much so that Haidt (2006) describes the relationship between emotions and rationality in terms of an elephant (the emotions) and a rider (rationality). If the elephant wants to go a certain direction, the rider is largely powerless. However, the superior intelligence of the rider can, over time, train the elephant so that rider and animal can do things together 254

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which neither could do on their own. Emotions provide the motive power for action: hence the intrinsic relationship of eMOTion to MOTivation. Children experiencing emotional and behavioural difficulties (EBD) can be characterised as having more elephant and less rider. If anger and aggression contribute significantly to emotional and behavioural difficulties, then anger management, which is about changing the relationship of the rider to the elephant, or how reason (concern for the future) can develop and control the power of the present moment, becomes very important. When threat is perceived, the first response of the child is normally felt as fear, and to that threat there are three inherited, universal biological strategies for survival: either to resist and overcome the aggression (to fight), to run as fast as possible to escape (to flee), or finally, if neither of these two strategies are likely to succeed, to play dead (to freeze). People will usually try first of all to fight or flee. Both require sudden expenditure of intense bodily energy. This explains (LeDoux 1998) why emotions always have a physiological component. In the case of anger, they are experienced as changes in the body as it gears itself up for sudden violent action (for example, through rapid shallow breathing, heart thumping, pupils dilating or muscles tightening). Maslow (1943) suggested that human beings have a hierarchy of needs (see Chapter 13, this volume, for variation of this); however, this also implies that we have a hierarchy of threats to our human existence that are not just physical. An essential human need is the need to belong to a group. As Baumeister points out: Human beings are fundamentally, extensively social and indeed they are social in ways that other animals cannot imagine … Social connection is the bread and butter of human life and rejection strikes at its very core. Social exclusion or rejection … strikes at the heart of what our psyche is designed for. (Baumeister 2005: 732) The feeling of belonging has now become crucial to our survival as human beings and any threat to belonging will be experienced as an attack—an attack to which our minds and bodies will react in the same way as to physical attack. Psychological axes are just as important threats to a person’s survival now as physical ones. So anger is a survival mechanism and, in that sense, is good. However, most threats to a person’s survival are now not the relatively rare physical attacks, but the more subtle and much more frequent psychological ones. Some people can be in an almost perpetual state of fear, resulting in either anger or anxiety. Substantial energy prompted by the high-level release of hormones in the brain, particularly adrenaline and cortisol (see Chapter 11, this volume) is not now consumed because social, ethical and moral controls prevent most people (but less so for young people with emotional and behavioural difficulties) from acting violently. It is known that high levels of cortisol, for example, impact negatively on the effectiveness of the immune system (Shives 2011), and that the release of a clotting agent for the blood is useful for someone getting into a fight and likely to be wounded, but becomes harmful if anger does not result in physical fighting. It is not surprising, therefore, that although anger is necessary and good at an earlier stage of evolution, angry people (including pupils with EBD) now suffer severe, long-term health risks. More relevant for educators working with young people with EBD is the fact that anger strongly influences the ability to learn (Faupel et al. 2011). In crude terms, anger shuts down the thinking and problem-solving areas of the brain. It is the blood that carries oxygen to the muscles to burn the sugars and fats, providing them with energy, and it becomes diverted, when in survival mode, from the two areas of the body usually requiring plenty of oxygen: the digestive system 255

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and the brain. Again, there are evolutionary advantages in shutting down the problem-solving areas of the brain when in survival mode. It is the now which is important and not the future: the time to think about the future is when the person has survived. When being attacked by someone, there is not time to consider carefully and to deliberate over which course of action is most appropriate. Some emotions exist to force people to act now and are aroused even before threats are perceived by the thinking brain. Recent work in positive psychology has demonstrated that positive emotions open up the thinking brain and have advantages in learning (Fredrickson 2009). High levels of anger have a double disadvantage, as Fredrickson and Branigan (2005) have shown, that the best learning is associated with positive emotions. Educators should therefore be concerned not only about alleviating anger, but also about facilitating positive emotions in their pupils (Elias 2006). Anger is an unpleasant emotion. As compassionate beings, adults should be concerned to ensure that children and young people are happy or ‘flourishing’ and high levels of anger obstruct these aims. Anger is also an important source of harm to other people and threatens social living in communities (e.g. group-working in class). So, if educators want children and young people to learn effectively in the classroom, they need to help them reduce their levels of anger. To do this they need to appreciate the relationship of anger to aggression. Not all anger leads to aggression and not all aggression stems from anger. The aggression that does not involve anger is usually called ‘instrumental’ aggression (Moyer 1968). This implies that the force used to obtain something from another person is done without emotional arousal and is partly cold and calculated. Extreme forms of violence, e.g. gang violence and some forms of bullying, can be perpetrated to achieve a specific purpose and are not done out of anger. Such aggression in children and young people can respond to more behavioural approaches with clear rules and expectations (see Chapter 13, this volume) being formulated and with an emphasis on consequences. There are, also, often different cultural norms of what is appropriate social behaviour and some aggression may reflect the strategies needed for survival in deprived and socially alienated and marginalised areas. The work of Payne (2005), on poverty and its effects on in-school behaviour, shows how different values, attitudes and behaviours need to be empathetically taught. However, such is the close relationship between mind and body, that a show of violent anger put on to accompany aggression in order to create fear and compliance can get out of control because the aggressor may indeed become emotionally aroused. It gets out of hand because high arousal conflicts with reason, with its focus on the present moment and not on future consequences. It is good advice to teachers (and parents) not to pretend to be angry, lest in fact they become so. Generally, aggression is emotional in origin and is a manifestation of the fight response to a perceived threat. Displacement, suggested by Freud (1920) as a psychological defence mechanism, allows for anger, which arises from the perception of not belonging, being expressed as aggression not to the aggressor responsible for the threat, but ‘displaced’ on to the self. This may be particularly true for abused children. Abuse can be interpreted by victims as meaning that they have no value but have been used to meet someone else’s gratification. This may be particularly relevant to children with severe emotional and behavioural problems. Self-harm and suicide may also be construed in this way. Clearly, the help required to enable people to manage anger directed to the self is rather different from anger that is ‘rightly’ and more healthily directed against the external threat to belonging—to the things, circumstances or people who are thwarting them from achieving legitimate needs to belong by actively devaluing or bullying them. The involvement of specialist mental health therapists is likely to be required in such cases of anger directed at the self. The cost of aggression and anger in terms of the disruption of classrooms and other pupils’ learning, the effects on teacher and support staff stress, the physical damage to people and 256

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property, and of the ultimate sanction of permanent exclusions, make it a high priority that adults in schools are able to intervene to reduce its severity and frequency. Unfortunately, interventions are frequently construed at the level of ‘control’ of the behaviour, usually by punishments and sanctions. The more enlightened approach is to focus on rewarding appropriate behaviour, but as the vast majority of aggression is due to feelings of anger, it is more sensible and efficient to address the issue of anger directly rather than confront the aggressive behaviour. Most aggression comes from anger and most anger is about the perceived threat to one’s value, worth and more specifically, belonging. The first response should not be in terms of rewards and punishments, but to ask the question: why does not this group of pupils, or this individual, have a sense of belonging? This requires that the first level of intervention should be in prevention before working more specifically with angry individuals. It makes more sense to foster the kinds of environments that in general terms provide respect and value to pupils. There is considerable truth in the aphorism, ‘Prevention is priceless; cure is costly’. The whole-school and classroom ethos of valuing all pupils is the vision behind any good school behaviour policy (Hymans 2008). This is where good ‘discipline’ starts, especially if it is remembered that the closest word to discipline in the English language has nothing to do with control and sanctions, but with ‘discipleship’. Schools and classrooms that value all pupils tend not to focus on attainment, but on effort; do not indulge in comparing, but on cooperating; do not put the demands of an imposed curriculum before the legitimate needs of pupils for relevance, stimulation and challenge. Schools that only value academically or athletically achieving pupils and see the rest as not adding any value to the school are breeding grounds for disaffected pupils (cf. Columbine Review Commission 2001). The word ‘disaffected’ means something going wrong (dis) with emotions (affect). The emotion resulting from not feeling significant or of being ‘demeaned’ (meaning being taken away) is likely to be anger. The temptation to see angry and aggressive pupils as having something wrong with them and needing treatment is to forget the significance of the important analogy that the greatest advances in health and life expectancy came not from advances in medicine and treating more individual patients, but from creating sewers, cleaning the air and water. Hygiene can be more important than medicine. High levels of anger and aggression can be seen as public health issues. However, it is naive to suggest that even with a perfect environment supporting worth and value, there would not be some groups and individuals who would need more focused assistance, and it is to this aspect that we now turn. A useful approach is to view an aggressive incident as being a chain of events. This begins with a situation, a trigger. Something happens or somebody acts in a way that can be perceived as threatening. Perhaps somebody shows disrespect to a person. Davies and Frude (1995), in their ‘Aggressive Incident Model’, describe these triggers in terms of irritants, costs and transgressions. In some classrooms and in some peer groups there are many triggers, but as cognitive behavioural approaches remind us, an external event does not ‘cause’ an emotional response: it is the way that the event is interpreted or appraised that results in anger. The same event can be interpreted very differently—the teacher’s neutral request to read a passage aloud can be perceived as unfair or exposing the pupil’s weakness. Appraised as an attack, the request leads to anger, but, as has been suggested, not all anger leads to aggression: it is often inhibited by, for example, fears of punishment or retaliation or by moral inhibitions. It is only when the inhibition is not strong enough that the anger becomes translated into the behaviour of aggression. There are also other considerations that help influence what kind of aggression is likely to take place (see Davies and Frude 1995). Many aspects of the firework model of anger management (Faupel et al. 2011) relate to the Aggressive Incident Model. For a person to explode with anger, there needs to be a match, a fuse and dynamite in a state ready to go off. Interventions working with individuals or groups of 257

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pupils focus on these three components—exploring the different matches that spark off the anger (e.g. ‘hassle logs’, which facilitate self-monitoring of triggers to feelings of anger), trying to lengthen the fuse by thinking differently about the threat (often known as cognitive restructuring) and dampening the dynamite. Teaching methods to reduce physiological arousal such as relaxation, breathing techniques to control heart rate variability and meditation are at the heart of the firework model of anger management. When a threat is perceived, the sympathetic nervous system is activated and levels of arousal rise, sometimes slowly, sometimes very quickly. If not ‘diffused’, they can escalate to the point of crisis or explosion (Breakwell 1997). Basically, there are two essential elements of any intervention at this crisis stage: to lessen the perception of attack and to reduce the levels of arousal. Both of these aims can be achieved with appropriate verbal and non-verbal responses. The first stage is a ‘calming’ stage, which, if successful, can then lead to solving the issue of the original threat. Because that threat is often about not belonging or not being valued or respected, a reduction of physiological arousal is achieved by convincing the person that they are indeed valued. Listening can be the way a person conveys value to another human being. What is needed is a special and explicit way of listening, which in the counselling literature is called ‘active listening’. This involves acknowledging in a non-judgemental way that there is indeed a problem, showing genuine concern and understanding, and giving reassurance and support by paraphrasing, summarising and open questioning. There is a degree of calmness in the tone of voice, not being afraid of silences and using all the techniques (but not the manner) that we might use in talking with a younger person—in the sense that in states of arousal, thinking and language processing are greatly impaired and physiologically aroused people seem to function at the cognitive and language levels of a younger child. This means that important messages should be given first, that requests for what needs to happen are repeated simply and clearly, in clear and precise language so that there is little possibility of confused or conflicting messages being sent. Any phrase that could be seen as provocative needs to be meticulously avoided: ‘don’t be silly’; ‘come on, it’s not as bad as all that’; ‘this is no way for an intelligent 13 year old to behave’. There is evidence that the use of ‘we’ rather than ‘I’ or ‘you’ seems to build a more personal relationship. Sometimes this joint identification can be fostered by personalising yourself— deliberately moving out of your identity as a teacher or as a person in authority by highlighting personal or family things about yourself (Faupel et al. 2011). When a young person is very agitated and on the brink of violence, it can also be effective to depersonalise the situation. By this is meant that staff can highlight that the rules or policy are not theirs; they have been decided by someone else, for example, the head teacher. There are also non-verbal behaviours that help to establish a listening relationship and a sense of identification between the teacher or teaching assistant and the young person. One of the most important of these is mood matching. Often when working with very angry people, the advice is given: ‘keep calm’, but being calm can actually inflame the situation even further. When people are very angry, they want you to listen, to take notice: staying calm may well be seen as not really caring and becomes an invitation for the angry person to make sure you do listen! By way of analogy, when a friend is depressed, it is usually not helpful to interact with them, in an overly cheerful manner nor, on the other hand, is it useful to depress them even more by being gloomy and pessimistic. Empathy and caring are more likely to be conveyed when the mood is pitched just above the level of the depressed person. Similarly, with a very agitated child, members of staff should show some level of agitation by their body movements and general demeanour aiming to be controlled, but not ‘calm’ (Faupel et al. 2011). Ramseyer and Tschacher (2011) suggest that people who are emotionally close tend to mirror each other’s body positions. Emotional rapport and listening can be encouraged by consciously 258

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trying to do this with an angry person. Sitting and standing in the same posture and in the way we position our arms are examples of mirroring. The use of eye contact can either encourage the sense of listening and value or can be a provocative action. When a person becomes angry, the normal pattern of eye contact becomes distorted into intense and prolonged staring. The aim of the adult is to try to get the eye contact into a much more normal conversational manner. This is sometimes quite difficult and a way round it is occasionally to ask if you can make some notes. This is put in the context of making sure the problem that has caused the issue is taken very seriously. Emotional anger is the fight response to perceived threat (Faupel et al. 2011) and the angry person might try to get in the best position to fight, sometimes by ‘squaring-up’ and being at the right distance to hit. The main aim of the adult is to convey that he or she does not want to fight and this can be done by consciously not also squaring up. If this is made obvious by turning away, the angry person may simply interpret this as though the adult does not care and is not really involved. They may simply then move around to ‘confront’ again. A useful tactic is to shift one’s weight onto one leg, which has the effect of turning the trunk just enough to get out of the fighting stance, without it becoming obvious. Finally, body space is another issue that becomes distorted. Angry people want to get body space on their terms and so teachers of pupils with EBD have to be careful that they do not convey a willingness to fight by using body space aggressively (Faupel et al. 2011). Although the body space in which people feel comfortable is different in different cultures, the pattern is generally eggshaped so that we allow a person to be much closer to us side-by-side and we prefer them in front rather than behind us. Sometimes school staff have to take a very angry child to a place outside the classroom: here the advice is to walk side-by-side and, particularly if stairs are involved, to make sure that one is not behind the child (which can be perceived as threatening), but also avoiding being in front on staircases, as that makes the staff member very vulnerable. The same principle seems to apply to sitting and standing and to the relative heights of seats and how the chairs are arranged. It is most advantageous to have seats of similar height and at an angle to each other. When the explosion of anger is over, the consequences need to be handled very sensitively. It is important to understand that it can take up to an hour for physiological levels to return to normal. Until those levels are reached, the young person is particularly vulnerable to further perceived ‘provocation’ (Faupel et al. 2011). Being judged can be seen as the antithesis of being valued, so adult responses to angry and aggressive outbursts need to convey a non-judgemental attitude. Distinguishing between the behaviour and the person is useful, but of greater value— but perhaps more difficult—is to convey that the anger was provoked by needs that were perceived as legitimate at the time. The motive, protecting perceived needs for belonging and selfesteem, was good: it was the strategies to achieve this need to belong that are the problem. This re-framing of difficult behaviour into legitimate ends but bad strategies leads to a teaching model rather than a punishing one, to seeing antisocial behaviour as being more frequently about making mistakes rather than being ‘bad’, and about remorse rather than guilt.

References Baumeister, R. (2005) ‘Rejected and Alone’. The Psychologist 18(12): 732–5. Breakwell, G.M. (1997) Coping with Physical Violence. Leicester: BPS Books. Cole, P.M., Martin, S.E. and Dennis, T.A. (2004) ‘Emotion regulation as a scientific construct: Methodological challenges and directions for child development research’. Child Development 75(2): 317–33. Columbine Review Commission (2001) Report of Governor Bill Owens. Denver, CO: State of Colorado. Davies, W. and Frude, N. (1995) Preventing Face-to-Face Violence. Dealing with Anger and Aggression at Work. Thurnby, Leics: Association for Psychological Therapies. 259

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Elias, M.J. (2006) ‘The connection between academic and social emotional learning’. In M.J. Elias and H. Arnold (eds), The Educator’s Guide to Emotional Intelligence and Academic Achievement. Thousand Oaks, CA: Corwin Press. Faupel, A., Herrick, E. and Sharp, P. (2011) Anger Management: A Practical Guide. London: Routledge. Fredrickson, B.L. (2002) ‘Positive emotions’. In C.R. Snyder and S.J. Lopez (eds), Handbook of Positive Psychology. Oxford: Oxford University Press. ——(2009) Positivity. Oxford: Oneworld Publications. ——(2010) Positivity. Oxford: Oneworld Publications. Fredrickson, B.L. and Branigan, C. (2005) ‘Positive emotions broaden the scope of attention and thought-action repertoires’. Cognition & Emotion 19(3): 313–32. Freud, S. (1920) A General Introduction to Psychoanalysis. New York: Boni & Livewright. Gross, J.A. and Thompson, R.A. (2007) ‘Emotional regulation. Conceptual foundations’. In J.J. Gross (ed.), Handbook of Emotional Regulation. New York: The Guilford Press. Haidt, J. (2006) The Happiness Hypothesis. Finding Modern Truth in Ancient Wisdom. New York: Basic Books. Hymans, M. (2008) Whole-school Strategies for Anger Management. London: Optimus Education. LeDoux, J. (1998) The Emotional Brain. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson. MacLean, P.D. (1990) The Triune Brain in Evolution: Role of Paleocerebral Functions. New York: Springer. Maslow, A.H. (1943) ‘A Theory of Human Motivation’. Psychological Review 50: 370–96. Moyer, K.E. (1968) ‘Kinds of aggression and their physiological basis’. Communications in Behavioral Biology 2: 65–87. Payne, R.K. (2005) A Framework for Understanding Poverty. Highland, TX: aha! Process, Inc. Ramseyer, F. and Tschacher, W. (2011) ‘Nonverbal synchrony in psychotherapy: Coordinated body movement reflects relationship quality and outcome’. Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 79(3): 284–95. Shives, L.R. (2011) Basic concepts of psychiatric-mental health nursing. Philadelphia, PA: Lippincott Williams and Wilkins

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Section IV

Specific approaches and issues

Introduction to Section IV Ted Cole, Harry Daniels and John Visser

From general approaches to assessment and intervention in mainstream and special schooling, this Companion turns to two specific forms of helping children with social and emotional difficulties. Caroline Couture (Chapter 29) looks from a Canadian perspective at the history, rationale and practice of nurture groups and reviews evidence of their effectiveness as a means of intervening early to keep children with EBD within mainstream schools. For many years, Jenny Mosley and Zara Niwano (Chapter 30) have been advocates of the circle time approach to promoting the social and emotional skills that help to underpin cognitive development. They describe how circle time should operate, before turning their attention to the targeted variant, which they call ‘circles of support’. The latter are particularly appropriate for children with emotional and behavioural difficulties (EBD). The over-representation of children from certain minority ethnic groups in school exclusion figures and special education has long been a concern. Janice Wearmouth, Mere Berryman and Ted Glynn (Chapter 31) look at this issue from an international perspective before giving examples from Aotearoa New Zealand of restorative practice, which because it is culturally responsive, can help to lessen the social exclusion of some ethnic groups. Richard Rose (Chapter 32) describes a project that highlights the value of volunteer mentors meeting regularly and building relationships with troubled young people. His qualitative study suggests a positive impact on the pupils’ behaviour in school. In the final part of this section, Roger Hancock (Chapter 33) discusses the increasing use of teaching assistants (TAs) in support of children presenting behaviour difficulties. He notes the valuable pastoral pedagogy offered by TAs, which he sees as particularly significant for children’s emotional and social development. There remains the question of whether the increasing presence of additional staff is completely beneficial for children with special educational needs (SENs). The findings from Webster et al. (2010) show that TA support has a negative impact on pupils’ academic progress, especially pupils with SEN. This introduces more than a little caution into the debates about TAs and is an important issue meriting further research.

Reference Webster, R., Blatchford, P., Bassett, P., Brown, P., Martin, C. and Russell, A. (2010) ‘Double standards and first principles: Framing teaching assistant support for pupils with special educational needs’. European Journal of Special Needs Education 32(1): 319–36.

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29 The value of nurture groups in addressing emotional and behavioural difficulties and promoting school inclusion Caroline Couture

Nurture groups are school-based interventions, taking the form of small classes staffed by a teacher and an assistant, which seek to address the underlying causes of emotional and behavioural difficulties (EBD) while supporting students in a natural, mainstream school environment. Nurture groups focus on the quality of the relationships between adults and children, with staff seeking to offset the children’s early attachment difficulties and providing experiences that match each child’s developmental stage. After time in a nurture group—usually between a term and a year—the social skills of many children with EBD have developed, as has their emotional security, allowing them to be re-included into their school’s regular classrooms. A decade ago, this chapter would have started by reporting that nurture groups were a promising model of school provision, which supported the inclusion of children with EBD in British primary schools. Now, in the light of published research studies, it can be stated that nurture groups are useful and effective resources that promote mainstreaming for children with EBD in various countries in the world. The author studied nurture groups in the course of her doctoral research in Cambridge, England, in 2000. She was attracted by nurture groups’ ingenious yet simple application of attachment theory within the school system. The approach contrasted with leading interventions in Québec at this time. The latter were generally informed by behaviourist theories. Five years later, nurture groups, called Classes Kangourou, were started in Québec. Nurture groups are now also provided in New Zealand and Malta. This chapter will show how, in order to minimize the risks of having to exclude children with social, emotional and behavioural difficulties, nurture groups address pupils’ fundamental needs within their mainstream, neighbourhood schools. Nurture groups provide necessary time, space, and experiences for these children to reach the level of maturity necessary for competent functioning in school. The chapter starts with a history of nurture groups, then outlines theories and key principles that provide the basis for nurture group practice. Evidence for the usefulness of nurture groups in improving social, emotional and behavioural functioning of children, is then presented, before a conclusion notes recent initiatives to apply nurture group principles to older pupils, in secondary schools. 264

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The birth of nurture groups in the UK Nurture groups were developed at the end of the 1960s in East London (UK) by the school psychologist Marjorie Boxall and her team. In these neighbourhoods there was much deprivation, with families sometimes victims of the economic situation or striving with immigration issues. Boxall (2002) claimed that the schools were overcrowded and under enormous stress. Many violent, aggressive and disruptive children were referred to clinics and several children were excluded from school a few weeks after their entry. In several cases the pressures on the parents seemed to explain much of the difficulties experienced by their children. Boxall (2002) hypothesized that difficulties experienced by parents had an impact on the interrelated processes of attachment and learning that normally take place during children’s first years of life. Accordingly, when the children started education, they were unprepared for and unable to meet classroom requirements. Many skills that schools expect children to have acquired during the pre-school years were underdeveloped (e.g. tolerating short waiting periods, listening to adults, sharing with peers). In an effort to improve the situation of many children who seemed likely to face a difficult future, and to respond to requests from teachers and head teachers faced with students in serious difficulty, nurture groups were created (Boxall 2002).

Theoretical basis Boxall (2002) emphasises that when developing the first nurture groups she was not concerned about the theoretical underpinnings of the model, but rather by the idea of providing children with experiences appropriate to their development level. However, she noted that over the years, links to some theoretical models have become evident. It is now possible to associate nurture groups with knowledge derived from many theories, the most central being attachment theory (Bowlby 1969) and the derived studies on the influence of the quality of the student-teacher relationship (Baker 2006; Hamre and Pianta 2005). The central assumption of attachment theory is that the relationship between children and their attachment figure leads to the construction of their mental representations of self in relation to their attachment figure—what is named their internal working model. If these mental representations are limited at first to this relationship, they soon extend to the larger world and provide the child with a sense of self in relation to others. Depending on the extent to which they receive acceptance and support from the attachment figure, they will develop a consequent sense of self-worth and of what they can expect from the world and other significant persons. This conception of the world will shape their personality and their manner of interacting with others. If the principal relationship with the attachment figure is marked by inappropriate or illtimed responses, the internal working model would be damaged in a way that leads to an insecure pattern of attachment, which, in turn, is likely to lead to detrimental consequences for the individual’s mental health (Bowlby 1973). It is clear that Boxall’s assumptions on the origin of the difficulties encountered by students in her schools were very much coupled with attachment theory. Important impediments in the relation between children and parents are likely to undermine their sense of security and to generate a less secure internal working model, which, in turn, will inhibit the children’s exploration and impair their trust in others. Consequently, the child will meet with fewer opportunities for learning and his or her development will be slower, if not distorted. Teachers have little influence over the family history of their pupils, the quality of the children’s early attachment relationships and their level of maturity when they start school. However, research shows that teachers are able to influence strongly the educational future of these children 265

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by building supportive relationships with their pupils. The relationship between teacher and student (STR) can be understood through an attachment-centred approach as an extension of the motherchild relationship (Pianta and Stuhlman 2004). Thus, in establishing a supportive relationship with pupils and by paying careful attention to their needs, the teacher can foster the emotional security of the children who are most insecure. Once the supportive relationship is established, the child will be able to use the teacher as a secure and reliable base. If a relationship of sufficient quality is created, children will feel free to explore their academic and social environment. According to Pianta (1999), teachers can also play an important role in the development of emotional regulation in helping the child to name, manage and appropriately express emotions experienced in class. This idea is supported by many studies showing that the quality of the relationship between children and their kindergarten teacher has an impact on their academic and social competencies (Baker 2006; Hamre and Pianta 2005), as well as on their behaviour (Baker 2006; Birch and Ladd 1998; Hamre and Pianta 2005). Moreover, it is noteworthy that this positive relationship has greater effects on ‘at-risk’ children than on other pupils. Links between these results and the qualities that Boxall stated as important for teachers in nurture groups are remarkable: ‘Of crucial importance is the disposition to form a close and whole-person relationship with the children, and to identify at an early level with the child’s feelings and needs … ’ noted Boxall (2002: 155). The knowledge on importance of STR suggests that the positive relationship that is built in the nurture group between the teacher and the child through sensibility to children’s needs and emotional proximity is likely to be a mediator of the positive effects attributed to nurture groups. To run a nurture group efficiently, staff must show particular attitudes and skills favourable to a nurturing and caring approach. They must, among other skills, be able to apply the very structured nurture group principles while conserving a warm attitude towards children. Boxall (2002) devotes many pages of her book to the demands that working in nurture groups puts on adults. People who are planning to work in these groups and those responsible for appointing nurture group staff should read Boxall attentively, because some aspects of working in nurture groups rely more on personal qualities and attitudes than on specific interventions. Making the choice to work with children with such marked difficulties should be done cautiously and should certainly not be imposed.

Principles guiding the intervention Within a school, a nurture group is a small class for children whose social, emotional, behavioural or learning difficulties are such that it is difficult to respond to them in a regular classroom. As mentioned earlier, it is assumed that these children had not completed the basic learning that normally happens through the trusting relationship young children normally have with their parents (Boxall 2002). Thus, according to Boxall (2002), children in nurture groups often operate at an emotional, behavioural or learning level of development of a child under three years of age. To meet the needs of these pupils, adults in nurture groups seek to offer an environment that is organized to match the children’s level of development. Thus, in the nurture group, the course of a day has to be more straightforward and governed by a regular routine. Tasks are simplified and the feedback is more immediate and repetitive. Time is organised to maintain the attention of children. Limits and prohibitions are clear and precise. The furnishings, as well as the level of adult language, are appropriate to the level of child development. Finally, the nature of experiences offered to members of the nurture group must be likely to consolidate the child’s relationships with adult and the wider school community (Boxall 2002). Adopting a developmental knowledge of children’s difficulties is helpful to understanding how a nurture group works. Rather than lingering on a child’s difficulties and the reasons why these 266

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arose, adults in nurture groups adopt a normative understanding of his or her emotional, social, and cognitive development. Indeed, the child’s behaviour may be regarded as normal if one considers the developmental stage of the child rather than his chronological age. Adults may therefore offer to the child the kind of experiences, environment and relationships that would support the normal development of a younger child, in accordance with the usual stages of human development, from birth to primary school ages. The adults offer to their pupils a normal learning process, although this process is at an earlier stage than the average children of the same age.

The organisation of nurture groups In its classic form, a nurture group has 10–12 students who are referred by their mainstream teachers because of the difficulties they encounter in their early schooling (Cooper and Tiknaz 2007). This class is situated in the same school as the children’s mainstream class, which they continue to attend one half-day per week as well as every morning, for registration. Nurture groups are led by two adults (a teacher and an assistant), who attempt to relive, in a warm and smooth atmosphere, the child’s educational experience that may have been unsuccessful in his or her early years of life. How the adults act must be inspired by the normal, nurturing relationship between a mother and a young child, and the actions of the mother that follow intuitively. These adults interact with children as a mother would in a normal relationship in the early years of a child’s life, giving care and ongoing support, within a protective and carefully managed environment (Boxall 2002). The nurture group room is so equipped that it offers all the characteristics of a welcoming, comfortable and reassuring home, as well as all the necessary elements for learning and academic achievement. The room must have the necessary equipment to provide children with different types of opportunities, sometimes to play at the level of a young child, but also to perform activities corresponding to their chronological age (Boxall 2002). In the nurture group, the teacher and the assistant allow the children to be themselves and they support the pupils by a variety of means including helping the child to play and develop at his or her own pace. They keep the child emotionally close at first, and gradually, as s/he becomes more and more able to cope with challenges, the adults allow the child more independence (Bennathan and Boxall 1996). The limitations inherent to the organisation of space, time and activities in the nurture group allow the children to function at their own level of development without being overwhelmed by the complex demands of a regular classroom. From all this, it can be understood that the structure is the paramount issue when creating a nurture group. Though it becomes more flexible as the child grows, a thorough and predictable structure is essential at the beginning (Boxall 2002). A noteworthy feature of nurture groups is that all students continue to belong to their regular classroom, combining the advantages of inclusion with those of a more specialised approach. This characteristic is a huge advantage in favour of nurture groups compared to other off-school resources for EBD students, as it reduces the risk of pupils being placed for several years in specialized resources, with little chance of returning to mainstream. Binnie and Allen (2008: 202) claim: ‘NGs do not stigmatise the children who attend since the intervention is part of a whole school approach to supporting children.’ In their national survey on the nature and distribution of nurture groups, Cooper et al. (1999) identified key characteristics that defined a genuine nurture group, what they called the ‘Classic Boxall Nurture Group’. These characteristics may be summarised as follows: a classic nurture group is part of a school or a local authority continuum of special educational needs provision and it takes full account of school policies and of the National Curriculum. Children regularly attend the group for a substantial part of the school week, for a period usually varying between 267

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two and four terms. Two adults work together to provide a structured and predictable environment which supplies a setting where children can experiment missing or insufficiently internalised early learning. The emphasis is on supporting the child’s emotional, social, cognitive and language development at whatever level s/he shows is needed. When staff constitute the group, they bear in mind that social learning is made through co-operation and play with others. Finally, they hold positive attitudes towards the parents and they involve the latter as fully as possible (Cooper et al. 2001). Other models of nurture groups have also been identified. The new nurture group (Cooper and Tiknaz 2007) variant adheres to the important principles of the classic model, but ‘differs in structure and/or organisational features’ (Cooper et al. 2001: 88). Differences lie in the amount of time that students spend in the group, its location (it may be located in a special school), and its composition (it may serve children from different schools). Two other variants differentiate themselves fundamentally from the classic or new nurture groups. Those classified as groups informed by nurture group principles, are groups that do not follow the organisational principles of Boxall nurture groups, but which claim to be variants of it. According to Cooper and Tiknaz (2007), these groups often focus on social and developmental issues, but frequently do not deal with academic issues, as do classic and new nurture groups. Finally, the aberrant nurture groups (Cooper and Tiknaz 2007) are claimed to be variants of nurture groups, but they ‘contravene, undermine or distort the key defining principles of the classic nurture group’ in favour of control and containment (Cooper et al. 2001: 162). The first two variants might be seen as genuine nurture groups. The third variant often provides important social and emotional support for pupils, although there is a danger that this form may be educationally marginalised. The fourth variant is potentially dangerous, by promoting a distorted image of the nurture group (Cooper and Whitebread 2007). In 2011 the English schools inspectorate (Ofsted 2011) sent inspectors into 29 schools that ran a nurture group, to explore how they were used. They found that 24 of these 29 schools had organised their nurture groups based on the classic Boxall model. Two other groups could be classified as new nurture groups, as they followed nurture group principles for teaching and organisation, but pupils attended for less than half a week in these groups. The three other groups could be classified as groups informed by nurture group principles. If this survey is representative of all British nurture groups (there are also nurture groups in Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland), we could think that a vast majority of them follow the classic Boxall model of nurture groups.

Evidence that nurture groups are effective In the last decade, nurture groups have been the subject of evaluative research. The largest study is Cooper’s (Cooper et al. 2001; Cooper 2004; Cooper and Whitebread 2007) in collaboration with the Nurture Group Network. For nearly four years, his team followed 359 children who attended nurture groups in 34 schools, as well as 187 control students (Cooper 2004). Results obtained from the Strength and Difficulties Questionnaire (SDQ—Goodman 1997) and the Boxall Profile (Bennathan and Boxall 1998) show that students who attended nurture groups for four terms improved more in terms of social, emotional and behavioural functioning, than those with similar difficulties who attended regular classes at the same schools as the students in nurture groups. Results also indicated a rate of reintegration into regular classes of 76 per cent and a transfer of learning in the regular class for most students. The study by Cooper and Whitebread (2007) also shows that the presence of a nurture group in a school is associated with better perception of school by parents, and a change in practice over the difficulties experienced by children in every school that hosts the nurture group. This study finally shows that well-established nurture groups 268

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(developed for more than two years) have a greater impact on children’s behaviour than groups that are in their first or second year of implementation. Another recent study of 32 schools in Scotland evaluated 117 children aged between five and seven who attended nurture groups, and compared them to 104 matched children who attended schools without a nurture group. In addition to similar results as previous studies, suggesting an amelioration of the emotional and behavioural profiles of the children in nurture groups, their six-month follow-up design gives further evidence that nurture groups may foster academic attainments of children (Reynolds et al. 2009). The evidence of nurture groups’ positive effects for children has been demonstrated in many other small-scale studies (Binnie and Allen 2008; O’Connor and Colwell 2002; Sanders 2007; Scott and Lee 2009; Seth-Smith et al. 2010). They all found an improvement on cognitive, social, emotional and behavioural attributes assessed most often by the SDQ (Goodman 1997) and the Boxall Profile (Bennathan and Boxall 1998). Some of these studies (Seth-Smith et al. 2010; Scott and Lee 2009) also found an academic improvement in nurture group children. As stated earlier, Ofsted (2011) published a report about nurture group provision in England. Following a thorough qualitative assessment of 29 nurture groups, Ofsted recognised the appropriateness of nurture groups, recommending that the English Department for Education and local authorities1 should take into account the substantial value of well-led and well-taught nurture groups when considering policies and guidance on early intervention and targeted support for pupils with behavioural, emotional and social needs. Despite its overall positive description of nurture groups, the Ofsted (2011) report highlighted a series of important characteristics that made a difference between more or less successful provisions. Having a clearly defined purpose for the group, and making sure that this purpose is understood by everyone, is the first step towards success. Furthermore, the most successful schools in the research were those that promoted:  good communication between each member of staff (nurture group, mainstream and wider school);  the presence of a coherent curriculum (taking into account children’s social, emotional, behavioural and academic needs); and  the setting of relevant personal targets for every pupil in nurture groups with a thorough tracking of their progress. Other elements that made a difference between more- or less-effective nurture groups are an attitude that fosters pupils’ sense of belonging to their mainstream class while the child attends a nurture group, and careful planning of reintegration. Clearly, these features are those that future research should consider when evaluating the effectiveness of nurture groups. It now seems clear that it is not a question of whether to offer a nurture group or not, but rather whether a particular nurture group is effectively run and makes a positive difference to the development of the children who attend it.

Conclusion Nurture groups have enjoyed considerable expansion in recent years, with over 1,500 nurture groups listed in the UK (Nurture Group Network 2011). Nurture principles also appear to be being extended as more secondary schools seek ways to adapt the model to the reality of schooling for older children (Garner and Thomas 2011). Papers have been published recently about nurture group experiences for older students (Colley 2009; Cooper and Whitebread 2007; 269

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Cooke et al. 2008; Garner and Thomas 2011). Of course, secondary schools cannot offer a classic nurture group. Most of the proposed models would be classified as groups informed by nurture group principles. The characteristics and needs of older students and the nature of the difficulties they encounter suggest that a group with a different kind of organization could engage with them better (Colley 2009; Garner and Thomas 2011). However, to be termed nurture groups, these initiatives should always follow the core principles stated by Boxall, responding to young people at their current developmental level, in a predictable setting, and providing a secure base through a warm relationship with dedicated adults. In addition to developments in British secondary schools, interest in the nurture group approach has grown around the world, with groups now operating in New Zealand, Québec (Canada) (Couture and Lapalme 2007; Couture 2009) and Malta (Cefai and Cooper 2010). There is also claimed to be interest in Portugal, Australia and Japan (Bennathan, personal communication, 21 April 2011). Practitioners in each country will bring their own national traditions and characteristics to their nurture groups, and are likely to adapt their nurture groups’ organisation to the realities of their particular education systems. However, it seems that Boxall’s intuition in the late 1960s is increasingly shared internationally—and in a very tangible manner.

Note 1 The countries of the UK are divided into smaller areas, called ‘local authorities’, each governed by an elected council, which implements national laws but has discretion to decide many local issues.

References Baker, J.A. (2006) ‘Contributions of teacher-child relationships to positive school adjustment during elementary school’. Journal of School Psychology 44: 211–29. Bennathan, M. and Boxall, M. (1996) Effective Intervention in Primary Schools. Nurture Groups. London: David Fulton Publishers. ——(1998) The Boxall Profile: A Guide to Effective Intervention in the Education of Pupils with Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. London: Nurture Group Network. Binnie, L. and Allen, K. (2008) ‘Whole school support for vulnerable children: The evaluation of a part time nurture group’. Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 13(3): 201–16. Birch, A.H. and Ladd, G.W. (1998) ‘Children’s interpersonal behavior and the teacher-child relationship’. Developmental Psychology 34(5): 934–46. Bowlby, J. (1969) Attachment and Loss. Volume I. Attachment. London: The Hogarth Press. ——(1973) Attachment and Loss. Volume II. Separation Anxiety and Anger. London: The Hogarth Press. Boxall, M. (2002) Nurture Groups in School. Principles & Practice. London: Paul Chapman Publishing. Cefai, C. and Cooper, P. (2010) Nurture Groups in Primary Schools: The Maltese Experience. Saarbrücken: Verlag Dr Müller. Colley, D. (2009) ‘Nurture groups in secondary schools’. Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 14(4): 291–300. Cooke, C., Yeomans, J. and Parkes, J. (2008) ‘The Oasis: Nurture group provision for Key Stage Three pupils’. Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 13(4): 291–303. Cooper, P.W. (2004) ‘Nurture Groups: the research evidence’. In J. Wearmouth, R.C. Richmond and T. Glynn (eds), Addressing Pupils’ Behaviour: Responses at District, School and Individual Levels. London: David Fulton, 176–96. Cooper, P., Arnold, R. and Boyd, E. (1999) The Nature and Distribution of Nurture Groups in England and Wales. Cambridge: University of Cambridge School of Education. ——(2001) ‘The effectiveness of Nurture Groups: Preliminary research findings’. British Journal of Special Education 28(4): 160–6. Cooper, P. and Tiknaz, Y. (2007) Nurture Groups in School and at Home. Connecting with Children with Social, Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. London: Jessica Kingsley. Cooper, P. and Whitebread, D. (2007) ‘The effectiveness of nurture groups on student progress: evidence from a national research study’, Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 12: 171–90. 270

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Couture, C. (2009) ‘Kangaroo classes: an adaptation of nurture groups’. In C. Cefai and P. Cooper (eds), Promoting Emotional Education. London: Jessica Kingsley Publishers, 151–60. Couture, C. and Lapalme, M. (2007) ‘Les retombées de la première année d’implantation des Classes Kangourou au Québec’. Nouveaux Cahiers de la Recherche en éducation 10: 63–81. Garner, J. and Thomas, M. (2011) ‘The role and contribution of Nurture Groups in secondary schools: Perceptions of children, parents and staff’. Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 16(2): 207–24. Goodman, R. (1997) ‘The strengths and difficulties questionnaire: A research note’. Journal of Child Psychology, Psychiatry and Allied Disciplines 38: 581–6. Hamre, B.K. and Pianta, R.C. (2005) ‘Can instructional and emotional support in the first-grade classroom make a difference for children at risk of school failure?’. Child Development 76(5): 949–67. Nurture Group Network (2011) Who We Are: What We Do, www.nurturegroups.org/pages/who-we-are. html (accessed 10 June 2011). O’Connor, T. and Colwell, J. (2002) ‘The effectiveness and rationale of the Nurture Group approach to helping children with emotional and behavioural difficulties remain within mainstream education’. British Journal of Special Education 29(2): 96–100. Ofsted (2011) Supporting Children with Challenging Behaviour Through a Nurture Group Approach. London: Office for Standards in Education, Children’s Services and Skills. Pianta, R.C. (1999) Enhancing Relationships Between Children and Teachers. Washington, DC: American Psychological Association. Pianta, R.C. and Stuhlman, M.W. (2004) ‘Teacher-child relationships and children’s success in the first years of school’. School Psychology Review 33: 444–58. Reynolds, S., MacKay, T. and Kearney, M. (2009) ‘Nurture Groups: A large-scale, controlled study of effects on development and academic attainment’. British Journal of Special Education 36(4): 204–12. Sanders, T. (2007) ‘Helping children thrive at school: The effectiveness of Nurture Groups’. Educational Psychology in Practice 23(1): 45–61. Scott, K. and Lee, A. (2009) ‘Beyond the “classic” nurture group model: An evaluation of part-time and cross-age nurture groups in a Scottish local authority’. Support for Learning 24(1): 5–10. Seth-Smith, F., Levi, N., Pratt, R., Fonagy, P. and Jaffey, D. (2010) ‘Do nurture groups improve the social, emotional and behavioural functioning of at risk children?’. Educational & Child Psychology 27(1): 21–34.

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30 Promoting social, emotional and behavioural skills through circle time and circles of support Jenny Mosley and Zara Niwano

Introduction To become better learners in class, to succeed more generally at school and in their personal lives, children need opportunities to develop more than their cognitive skills. Social and emotional competencies are linked by DEMOS (2009) to educational success and by Weare and Gray (2003) to positive behaviour, improved learning, greater social cohesion, improvements in mental health and increased degrees of school inclusion. Circle time, a student-centred approach, encourages the practice of social and emotional skills inclusively and democratically, and provides opportunities to develop co-operative learning, group discussion and problem-solving. It is a frequently used strategy in the UK and abroad, with a history of providing early experiential development through a well-tested educational model (Ballard 1982; White 1990; Bliss et al. 1995; Robinson and Maines 1998). Developing from the group work and social dynamics theories of researchers such as Moreno (1934, 1946), Mead (1934), Rogers (1951, 1961), Glasser (1990) and Burns (1979, 1982), a distinctive approach to circle time, Quality Circle Time (QCT) (Mosley 1988, 1989) was introduced in England in 1988. This system was widely adopted with the introduction of specific guidelines, routines and procedures. QCT is part of the ‘whole-school quality circle time’ model, encompassing circle time practice and a whole-school approach promoting positive behaviour and developing respectful relationships (Mosley 1993, 1996, 1998, 2006). For this discussion, QCT will refer to the circle time feature of this model. QCT became a well-established weekly system in many schools where school leaders recognised that meeting in circles encourages participation and teamwork. Planning, structuring, pacing and evaluating the activities are the essential ingredients in providing effective opportunities for social, emotional and intellectual learning within these sessions. Designing games and learning activities maximises the benefits of work on areas such as self-esteem, self-confidence, positive behaviour, emotional literacy and social skills. Whilst the majority of young people can benefit from whole-class weekly circle time sessions, a minority of pupils—those presenting social, emotional and behavioural issues and challenges— may fail to gain from or even to access the QCT model. For them, smaller, more focused group 272

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work circle sessions are usually more beneficial. Such groups can focus in detail on areas of relevant personal development, including anger management and self-esteem. Small group work approaches within the QCT model are entitled ‘circles of support’ (Mosley 1988; Mosley and Niwano 2007) (see Table 30.1). Circles of support share some attributes with nurture groups (Bennathan and Boxall 1998), the ‘circle of friends’ approach (Newton and Wilson 1999; Taylor 1996, 1997), and social, emotional aspects of learning (SEAL) Silver Set—small group work (DfES 2006).

The circle of support method Before setting up a circle of support (CoS), the school leadership’s backing must be gained and every aspect carefully planned. Detailed discussions should take place between all those involved with the children. A CoS consists of:  two adult facilitators (if possible);  four-to-six children who have been identified as requiring targeted, additional support measures; and  up to four others acting as role models, who would benefit from sessions. Children in the last category might include withdrawn pupils with otherwise good social skills who would benefit from this special activity. Mixing age groups is beneficial. Children are usually referred by teachers after the completion of attitudinal or behavioural questionnaires, but can be put forward by parents, or by staff after a case review at a meeting. The two facilitators should work together to run a CoS—usually a teacher working with a teaching assistant. One facilitator should work full time in the school so that s/he can fulfil the role of advocate for the children in the CoS. Both adults can model positive behaviour and share the leading of the sessions. They ensure that sessions are well-planned and evaluated. They decide the plans to follow, the qualities and skills to praise, the boundaries to set and the consequences to enforce consistently, and how to communicate unobtrusively with each other during sessions through signals. Facilitators should seek to arrange that every child in each CoS session experiences feelings of success through activities that are accessible and motivating and help to counter the negative emotions associated with the rejection, sense of hopelessness and inability to control their worlds that the children in these groups frequently experience. Potential participants should be interviewed before the series of sessions begins so that they understand why they have been put forward and to help them choose to work towards improving certain behaviours or qualities. It is empowering to them if they themselves suggest areas on which to focus. Pupils must know that complete confidentiality cannot be offered and that if Table 30.1 Differences between normal mainstream QCT and circles of support Mainstream QCT sessions

Circles of support

One facilitator Whole class participation Follow the five-step model Run at weekly intervals all year

Two facilitators where possible Select group of 8–10 children, with role models Follow three-to-five steps of five-step model Run for a specified number of sessions Return with support to mainstream circles

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some sensitive issues are raised, facilitators will have to discuss these with others. Facilitators need to say to the children that ‘if you tell me anything that worries me, I will need to speak to someone about it, and I will tell you if I am going to do this’ (Mosley and Niwano 2007). CoS sessions usually take place once a week for up to a term, but a series may run for longer, depending upon children’s needs. They should take place in a quiet room with ‘do not disturb’ on the door. Children need arrival and leaving plans to minimise disruption. Sessions generally last 45 minutes. Shorter sessions may be more appropriate in the initial stages. Parents need to be involved from before the start. This is best achieved through an initial letter praising their child’s progress in some areas but informing them that staff believe their child might benefit from more support with their social skills development and that their child has been invited to participate in a short booster programme. An offer should be made to meet them if they have concerns or queries. The facilitators must be well prepared, knowing what sessions will involve, having resources to hand so that they are relaxed and confident, thereby helping children to feel safe and aiding their engagement with the activities offered. When planning themes, decision-making starts with consulting the children and the other adults who work with them and deciding how best to support appropriate development. The following areas are frequently needed, though the personal, social, health education (PSHE) or social and emotional aspects of learning (SEAL) curriculum may provide an outline:       

self-confidence and self-esteem; managing emotions; assertiveness; empathy; building language development; learning to be part of a team; and becoming motivated to learn.

At first, many children need to be taught five essential learning skills: looking, listening, speaking, thinking and concentrating. Each session should include activities encouraging development of these skills and once learnt, through enjoyable and co-operative activities, children may gain from more complex sessions. Circle of support sessions usually mirror the QCT five-step model, with meetings progressing through five distinct stages. Each step has a particular purpose:

Step one: meeting-up game Each meeting begins with a game designed to help the children relax, release tension, enjoy being together and to create a supportive atmosphere. Sometimes it may be better to begin with a calm, focused activity instead of a game.

Step two: warming-up round Many young people need to ‘warm up’ before speaking in discussions. Warm up can be achieved through a ‘round’ with pupils in turn repeating and completing a sentence started by the teacher, for example, ‘The animal I would like to be is … ’ A ‘speaking object’ (such as a soft toy) shows whose turn it is and whoever is holding the speaking object has the right to speak uninterrupted before passing it on to the next person. Any child not wishing to speak may say ‘pass’ and hand it 274

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on. If many children choose this option, they can be told the sentence stem a few days before so they have time to think up their contribution.

Step three: ‘opening-up’ and ‘exploring issues’ forum The ‘open forum’ is an opportunity for children to work together, explore problems, concerns, hopes and fears. They investigate what it means to be part of a community and think about social and moral responsibilities. They can learn to offer peer support in respectful and compassionate ways, practise problem-solving skills and rehearse behaviours to strengthen confidence and self-esteem. Pupils learn to express opinions and join in discussions to develop their ability to reason. To support the forum, the facilitators use a range of approaches, including puppets, role play and poems.

Step four: ‘cheering up’ and celebrating success It can be difficult for troubled children to ‘switch off’ from issues of concern, so it is important to provide two closing activities to help participants leave the meeting feeling calm and refreshed. The ‘cheering-up’ step celebrates individual successes and strengths. Class team honours—a certificate signed by the class—may be awarded or children may teach the others a new game.

Step five: calming-down closing ritual Each meeting ends with a closing ritual designed to calm and ensure feelings of emotional safety and closure. This may involve visualisations, sensory work and breathing techniques. Some young people are not ready for the full five steps and practitioners may choose to ‘pick and mix’ which steps it is appropriate to use. Sessions should never end on a step three ‘opening-up’ activity as this stage can open up participants’ feelings of vulnerability. It is advisable to distance children from emotional issues by visiting at least one different step after step three to increase the chances of their leaving in a happy or relaxed mood. Sessions can start by repeating a game from the previous session to help children feel more confident. Circles of support benefit from ground rules. These are best introduced around sessions three or four, after the participants have been engaged in and motivated by CoS in two or three enjoyable and well-paced introductory sessions. Rules need to support school values and children can be asked to suggest them. Rules frequently fall into these categories:      

physical safety (e.g. ‘we are gentle’); emotional safety (‘we are kind’); respect for each other (‘we listen’); respect for work (‘we do our best’); respect for the environment (‘we look after property’); respect for the truth (‘we are honest’);

Agreeing practical routines such as ‘turning up on time’ and ‘tidying up’ is also beneficial. The rules can be put on a poster and displayed on the wall. Facilitators should discuss with pupils the consequences of someone breaking an agreed rule and a list of sanctions should be drawn up. Children often suggest verbal warnings, visual warnings and ‘time out’, but the most severe and effective sanction can be the loss of the privilege of coming to the group. Children are keen to discuss the rewards, such as certificates, that they can receive if they keep the rules. 275

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Children sometimes like extra support after a circle of support and one facilitator should be available after the session or at an agreed time if a child wants to talk. Circles of support work well when children know that CoS is part of a continuous care and education process. The participating child, their teacher and facilitators should try to meet together every few weeks to identify with the child the issues on which the young person wants to work. At this meeting, the teacher can suggest one area in which support could help the child, e.g. in listening or concentration skills. Discussions at this joint meeting make it more difficult for the child to cast the teacher as the ‘baddie’ and the CoS facilitator as ‘the good one’. Bringing about a safe ending to a series of circle of support sessions is important. Children see the circles as nurturing and often feel a loss when the sessions cease. If possible, children should be ‘bridged’ back into mainstream life by one of the facilitators accompanying them and joining in with mainstream circle times for a couple of sessions. This helps both child and teacher. One useful approach is the facilitator ensuring that the child is asked to teach the rest of the class one or more games learnt during the circle of support. The pupil should do this in his or her own way. By doing this, they bring back from the smaller circle a taste of fun which can win them the support of the other students. The leaving participant’s feelings of loss can also be eased by the facilitator giving the child a card with a photograph of the group on it and best wishes messages inside. Facilitators can let the child know how to get in touch with them if the pupil really needs to.

Evidence for the impact of QCT and CoS The benefits of circles time are subtle and difficult to quantify. Early research on the effects of QCT programmes largely consist of informal reports and qualitative data from schools where QCT and CoS have functioned effectively. This section sketches studies indicating the positive impact of QCT and CoS, some of which take the form of peer-reviewed journal articles and some unpublished masters degree dissertations. Dawson and McNess (1997) found that 88 per cent of head teachers used weekly circle time in their schools: 71 per cent said it raised self-esteem, 79 per cent said it increased social skills, 85 per cent stated it improved communication, and 69 per cent stated it helped children take responsibility for their actions. In a Gulbenkian Foundation-commissioned study, Tew (1999) found that head teachers identified circle time as a powerful system for improving school ethos and promoting spiritual, cultural, moral, social and personal development of children. Results from the ‘campaign for learning’ research at the University of Newcastle (England) showed circle time programmes benefiting children: they allowed pupils more time to reflect on their feelings, created an increased readiness to learn, improved resilience and reduced inappropriate behaviour (Higgins et al. 2005; Higgins et al. 2006). Results from another unpublished early years masters dissertation showed that a classroom management approach centring upon circle time significantly contributed to the personal, social and health education early learning goals (Wood 2001). In a secondary circle time study (Tew 1998), two groups of 11–12 year olds were taught personal and social education within or beyond circle time sessions. Results showed that the circle time group knew each other more thoroughly and could easily make specific positive comments about fellow group members. Their teachers made positive comments relating to pupils’ self-confidence, attitude and learning about each other. More recently, Ofsted, the English government’s national schools inspectorate, found that QCT assisted the re-engagement of disaffected and reluctant secondary pupils in their learning. Amongst schools identified as being very successful at re-engaging pupils, an adapted curriculum that involved QCT, amongst other initiatives, was most common (Ofsted 2008). 276

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Another inspectors’ report stated that in schools with low exclusion rates for children from four to seven years: ‘Circle time’ approaches were widely used, which enabled children to develop the skills to negotiate, listen and respond with empathy, as well as to express themselves and to solve problems. In many cases, children were involved in defining the class rules or expectations based on the whole-school rules, and designing rewards and even sanctions. In the best practice, children were taught and encouraged to be highly aware of their own behaviour, including the possible triggers for poor behaviour, and to regulate it accordingly. (Ofsted 2009: 17) By 1988 the potential of circle-based support programmes (circles of support) became evident (Mosley 1988), and was explored into the 1990s using active experiential activities like role play, improvisation and games to support pupils experiencing social, emotional and behavioural difficulties. In 1991 circles of support were found to help Year 9 and 10 pupils with behavioural and adjustment problems (Shaw 1991). Morris (1998) reported that young women, referred for low levels of self-esteem, perceived themselves as being more competent and confident as a result of circle work. Working in a circle of support with eight Year 6 boys (9–10 years of age) with emotional and behavioural difficulties (EBD), Franks (2001) found that they became more skilled in expressing emotions, with indications of improvement in behaviour. Another study found that Year 7 pupils exhibited increased perception of their social acceptance after 10 weeks of circles of support (Liberman 2003). Circles of support were also used successfully in the ‘compass for life’ project in Stirling, Scotland (Alcorn 2004), with young people aged between 14 and 25 years, focusing upon employability through participative learning programmes with a trainer. After three months, the circle of support had improved participants’ understanding of themselves and others, helped them to appreciate more the effects of the language they used, reducing the use of verbal ‘put-downs’ in their social interactions. Finally, we repeat the views of a few young people, with whom the writers have worked in circles of support: ‘It helps me learn about other people.’ ‘It helped me to get things off my chest.’ ‘We learned to help each other and didn’t laugh when people made a try [an effort, but failed].’ ‘I liked talking about how to make good friends and to work harder.’

Conclusion Quality Circle Time and circles of support are widely used in schools in the UK and abroad. Experiences and opportunities offered are designed to support children in developing social, communication, emotional, problem-solving and learning skills. The available evidence suggests that both QCT and its variant contribute to pupils’ social and emotional effectiveness. However, when staff facilitate circles of support without adequate training and understanding, circles can be ineffective and at worst emotionally unsafe. QCT and CoS are most commonly used in many primary schools. It is of concern to the authors that very few secondary schools have regular weekly circle time for pupils as part of tutor time or PSHE. These same schools often run small circles for children who have problems, thereby giving the message to all other children that in their school only children with problems are 277

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listened to. One child came up to a facilitator, known to the writers, and asked, ‘Who do I have to hit to get into your group?’ Circles of support and weekly circle times urgently need more rigorous and extensive research to test—and, it is hoped, endorse—the authors’ belief that they should be used far more widely with pupils with emotional and behavioural difficulties.

References Alcorn, J. (2004) Post-school Learning and Self-esteem: Using Quality Circle Time in the Stirling Compass for Life Partnership. Trowbridge: Jenny Mosley Consultancies. Ballard, J. (1982) Circle Time. New York: Irvington Publishers. Bennathan, M. and Boxall, M. (1998) The Boxall Profile: Handbook for Teachers. London: Nurture Group Network. Bliss, T., Robinson, G. and Maines, B. (1995) Developing Circle Time: Taking Circle Time Much Further. London: Lucky Duck. Burns, R. (1979) The Self Concept. London: Longman. ——(1982) Self Concept Development and Emotion. London: Holt Saunders. Dawson, N. and McNess, E. (1997) A Report on the Use of Circle Time in Wiltshire Primary Schools. Unpublished report commissioned from Bristol University by Wiltshire Local Education Authority. DEMOS (2009) A Stitch in Time: Tackling Educational Disengagement, www.demos.co.uk/files/Demos_stitch _in_time_report_C.pdf?1243336176. DfES (2006) Excellence and Enjoyment: Social and Emotional Aspects of Learning Key Stage 2 Small Group Activities. Nottingham: DfES Publications. Franks, G. (2001) Can Circle Time Facilitate the Learning of Emotional Expression and Competence in Boys with Severe EBD? Unpublished MEd thesis, School of Education, University of Bristol. Glasser, W. (1990) Reality Therapy. New York: Harpers and Collins. Higgins, S., Wall, K., Baumfield, V., Hall, E., Leat, D. and Woolner, P., with Clark, J., Edwards, G., Falzon, C., Jones, H., Lofthouse, R., Miller, J., Moseley, D., McCaughey, C. and Mroz, M. (2006) Learning to Learn in Schools Phase 3 Evaluation: Year Two Report. London: Campaign for Learning. Higgins, S., Wall, K., Falzon, C., Hall, E., Leat, D., Baumfield, V., Clark, J., Edwards, G., Jones, H., Lofthouse, R., Moseley, D., Miller, J., Murtagh, L., Smith, F., Smith, H. and Woolner, P. (2005) Learning to Learn in Schools Phase 3 Evaluation: Year One Final Report. London: Campaign for Learning. Liberman, J. (2003) Can a Circle of Support Help to Boost the Self-concept, Social Skills and Modify the Behaviour of Pupils in Year 7 at a Secondary School? Unpublished MEd thesis, School of Education, University of Bristol. Mead, G.H. (1934) Mind, Self and Society. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Moreno, J.L. (1934) Who Shall Survive? New York: Plenum Press. ——(1946) Psychodrama, second revised edn. Ambler, PA: Beacon House. Morris, A. (1998) Groupwork with Self Referred Young Women with Low Self-esteem. Unpublished MEd thesis, School of Education, University of Bristol. Mosley, J. (1988) ‘Some Implications arising from a small scale study of a circle-based programme initiated for the tutorial period’. Pastoral Care 10–16 June. ——(1989) All Round Success. Trowbridge: Wiltshire Local Education Authority. ——(1993) Turn Your School Round. Cambridge: LDA. ——(1996) Quality Circle Time. Cambridge: LDA. ——(1998) More Quality Circle Time. Cambridge: LDA. ——(2006) Step-by-Step Guide to Circle Time for SEAL. Trowbridge: Positive Press. ——(2009) ‘Circle time and socio-emotional competence in children and young people’. In C. Cefai and P. Cooper (eds), Promoting Emotional Education: Engaging Children and Young People with Social, Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. Philadelphia, PA: Jessica Kingsley Publishers. Mosley, J. and Niwano, Z. (2007) They’re Driving Me Mad: Running Circles Of Support for Children Whose Behaviour Pushes You Beyond Your Limit. Cambridge: LDA. Mosley, J. and Tew, M. (1998) Quality Circle Time in the Secondary School: A Handbook of Good Practice. London: David Fulton. Newton, C. and Wilson, D. (1999) Circles of Friends. Dunstable and Dublin: Folens. Ofsted (2008) Good Practice in Re-engaging Disaffected and Reluctant Students in Secondary Schools (HMI 070255), www.ofsted.gov.uk/Ofsted-home/Publications-and-research/Browse-all-by/Documents-by-type/Themat ic-reports/Good-practice-in-re-engaging-disaffected-and-reluctant-students-in-secondary-schools. 278

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——(2009) The Exclusion from School of Children aged Four to Seven HMI 090012, www.ofsted.gov.uk/ Ofsted-home/Publications-and-research/Browse-all-by/Documents-by-type/Thematic-reports/The-exc lusion-from-school-of-children-aged-four-to-seven. Robinson, G. and Maines, B. (1998) Circle Time Resources. London: Chapman & Hall. Rogers, C. (1951) Client Centered Therapy. Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin. ——(1961) On Becoming a Person: A Therapist’s View of Psychotherapy. Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin. Shaw, K. (1991) ‘Setting up peer support groups: one school’s INSET response to the Elton Report’. Pastoral Care 13 December. Taylor, G. (1996) ‘Creating a circle of friends: A case study’. In H. Cowie and S. Sharp (eds), Peer Counselling in School. London: David Fulton. ——(1997) ‘Community building in schools: Developing a circle of friends’. Educational and Child Psychology 14: 45–50. Tew, M. (1998) ‘Circle time: A much-neglected resource in secondary schools?’ Pastoral Care, September: 24–26. ——(1999) A Report on the Use of Jenny Mosley’s Whole School Quality Circle Time Model in Primary Schools in the UK. Commissioned by All Round Success. Unpublished. Weare, K. and Gray, G. (2003) What Works in Developing Children’s Emotional and Social Competence and Well-being? DfES Research Report 456 Southampton: The Health Education Unit, Research and Graduate School of Education. White, M. (1990) ‘Circle Time’. Cambridge Journal of Education 20(1): 53–6. Wood, F. (2001) Can Circle Time in the Foundation Stage Support the Early Learning Goals for Personal, Social and Emotional Development? Unpublished dissertation, School of Education, University of Bristol.

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31 Culturally responsive approaches to challenging behaviour of minority ethnic students Janice Wearmouth, Mere Berryman and Ted Glynn

Introduction Different ways of conceptualising the human mind, the development of learning and how learning and behaviour are interrelated lead to different approaches for dealing with issues that schools have in relation to behaviour experienced as challenging or otherwise difficult. As Bruner (1996) notes, there are two ‘strikingly different’ ways of thinking about how the mind works. One of these is to conceptualise the mind in cognitive terms, as operating like a computer in processing the information it receives. Here, however, we are concerned with the second conceptualisation, what Bruner terms ‘culturalism’, which has rather different implications for addressing behavioural issues. ‘Culturalism’ assumes that the development of the human mind depends on its evolution within a society in which the ‘reality’ of individual experience is represented through a shared symbolism, for example verbal or written language, where the community’s way of life is organised and understood. The cultural context in which a child is reared shapes his or her thinking and provides tools, a ‘cultural toolkit’ (Bruner 1996), for organising meaning in ways that can be communicated to others. In Bruner’s view, meaning-making is situated in a cultural context as well as in the prior conceptions that learners bring with them into new situations from other contexts. New learning is a product of the ‘interplay’ between them. Bruner raises a number of issues relevant to education generally, and to student behaviour, that arise from this view of learning and behaviour. For example:  Schools need to recognise that they exist in societies where issues of power, status and rewards are very influential. Educational policies and practices need to take account of this in terms of their potential for supporting or, conversely, damaging minority ethnic communities.  Schooling plays a critical part in shaping a student’s sense of ‘self’—that is, in her or his belief in her or his ability, responsibility and skill in initiating and completing actions and tasks. Teachers should therefore reflect continuously on the impact of school processes and practices on young people’s sense of agency and ability. 280

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 Failing to support the development of students’ ability to act in their own cultural context as well as the context of the school risks marginalizing and alienating young people and rendering them incompetent, with the consequent threat to the stability of society. (adapted from Wearmouth et al. 2005: 56) To understand and respond appropriately to challenging behaviour at school requires us to understand the cultural contexts of both home and school. In this chapter we examine some of the evidence related to the relative under-achievement, disaffection and exclusion from the education system of students from particular minority ethnic groups and investigate a number of theories that attempt to explain these phenomena. We go on to use the communities of practice framework (Wenger 1998; Wenger et al. 2002) to examine how drawing on community values and individuals’ responsibilities within communities can enable movement from retribution to a focus on ‘putting things right’ between all those involved or affected by wrongdoing. The particular examples given here are from Aotearoa New Zealand and relate to restorative practices influenced by traditional Ma-ori cultural values and preferred responses to wrongdoing. The process associated with hui whakatika (hui: meeting; whakatika: to put things right) emphasises restoration of harmony between the individual, the victim and the collective (Berryman and MacFarlane 2011; Wearmouth et al. 2007a, 2007b).

Achievement by ethnicity Expectations from the goals and norms of the community in which they live and study, while varying from one community to another, impose significant demands on students. The British Psychological Society (BPS) notes that, for students growing up in the UK, for example, ‘formalised education, commencing at the age of five years, imposes a whole range of requirements including the need for compliance, focused concentration and the willingness to listen and reflect’ (BPS 1996: 13). The hurdles facing students in the UK’s education system ‘reflect, in part, modern society’s emphasis on competition and achievement’ (BPS 1996: 13). It is inevitable that students who experience difficulties in meeting these demands must face ‘a range of social, educational and psychological consequences’ which will be ‘compounded by personal unhappiness’ (BPS 1996: 13). The relative underachievement and proportionately high exclusion rate of students from particular minority ethnic groups has been a focus of investigation in educational research internationally for some time (Bishop and Glynn 1999; Rampton 1981; Swann 1985). Findings from the Youth Cohort Study (YCS) of England and Wales (DfE 1994) confirmed the trend of growing gaps between students by gender and ethnicity in the early 1990s in the UK. The discrepancy has continued. In 2000/01 the exclusion rate for students of black African-Caribbean heritage was three times that for white students (DfES 2002). In 2007/8, students from the same ethnic group were three times more likely to be excluded from schools permanently than the school population as a whole, and twice as likely to be given a fixed period exclusion. In 2009, whilst 65.9 per cent of white British boys and 73.8 per cent of white British girls achieved five or more A*–C grades at GCSE level, only 56.4 per cent of black Caribbean boys and 69.9 per cent of black Caribbean girls achieved the same (Daothong 2010). Similar issues of underachievement and exclusion apply to other communities in some respects, around the world. In New Zealand, for example, historically, the exclusion rate of Ma-ori students has been disproportionately high (MoE 2003). At the turn of the twenty-first century, in comparison to non-Ma-ori, three times more Ma-ori were suspended from school. Further, 38 per cent were leaving school without any school qualifications, compared with 19 per cent of non-Ma-ori (MoE 2001). In 2009 more Ma-ori students were stood down (up to five days’ 281

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suspension), suspended or excluded (required to enrol at another school) than any other ethnic group (MoE 2010). In the same year, figures from the Ministry of Education (MoE 2010) for achievement at NCEA, Levels 1–3 (the national examinations for school students aged 16–18), showed Ma-ori boys achieving significantly less than New Zealand Europeans and Asians, and somewhat less than Pasifika (students from Pacific islands). Ma-ori boys performed more poorly than Ma-ori girls. Ma-ori and Pasifika girls achieved less than girls from European or Asian heritage.

Explaining exclusion, disaffection and underachievement Disproportionate rates of exclusion and underachievement have been explained in a number of ways over the years.

Discrimination by culture and ethnicity Majors (2001b: 2–3) comments that, in his experience, many black students are excluded not only for poor behaviour, but also ‘simply for exhibiting culture-specific behaviours (wearing dreadlocks, braids, having one’s hair too short, having tramlines shaved on one’s head, demonstrating ‘inappropriate’ walking styles) or eye contact behaviour’. In his opinion, exclusions often result from ‘lack of cultural awareness, miscommunication, racism and negative stereotyping, and teachers interpreting particular culture-specific behaviours as indicating that students have ‘an attitude problem’ or are ‘ignorant’ rather than a demonstration of ‘a positive sense of self-esteem and cultural identity’ (Majors 2001b: 2–3). As Irvine (1990, cited in Majors 2001b) reported, because the culture of black students is often different from their teachers, teachers often misunderstand or ignore black children’s language, non-verbal cues, learning styles and worldview. The outcome may well be ‘hostility and conflict between White teachers and Black pupils … in particular Black boys’ (Majors 2001b: 2–3). The combination of gender and race-specific stereotypes ‘manifested in the form of stereotypes, lower expectations and differential treatment’ makes success particularly problematic for black boys. Sewell (1997), for example, found that some white teachers were afraid of black boys, partly because of their size and partly because of the expectation that they would cause more trouble than white boys. Further, there is evidence that teachers’ assessments of black students may underestimate their potential for achievement, as evidenced by actual test results (Ofsted 1999). An obsession ‘with controlling, monitoring, disciplining, punishment, excluding and labelling’ can override the focus ‘on relationships, communication and social justice’ (Majors 2001b: 5–6).

School or student? Osborne (2004) notes three theories explaining why black students are at high risk of dis-identification with school education:  Stereotype threat theory (Steele 1992), which proposes that the school environment is aversive to members of groups with negative group stereotypes.  Cultural-ecological theory (Ogbu 1997), which distinguishes between members of a minority culture whose forebears chose to live in the predominant culture and who seek education within that culture as the path to success, and involuntary immigrants. The latter, it is claimed, are more likely to develop social or collective identity in opposition to the predominant culture. 282

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 ‘Cool pose’ theory (Majors and Billson 1992), which claims that survival in an environment of social oppression and racism leads to the adoption of flamboyant and non-conformist behaviour leading to punishment in school settings. Blair (2004), however, is more concerned with the particular institutional context in explaining disaffection and underachievement. She refers to ‘cultural dissonance’, that is, white teachers in some schools not understanding black youngsters or their learning styles. Whatever the reasons for disproportionate exclusion and underachievement, what really matters is what to do about it. For, as Bruner (1996) comments, education is the opening of identities. Education and inclusion in schools, therefore, really matters.

The community of practice framework One way of addressing problematic student behaviour is to consider how far students are able to participate in the communities of practice that exist in schools, or are excluded from them. The concept of a ‘community of practice’ (Wenger 1998) provides a clear framework for reflecting on issues fundamental to the concept of participation and its relevance to inclusion, together with issues of learning, knowing, identity and important aspects of ‘belonging’. It offers a way of thinking about how groups in schools work and how individual students can be participant members of these groups and thus be ‘included’ or, indeed, be precluded from group membership. It also highlights the significance for inclusion of the kind of understandings, skills and relationships and the kind of processes and tools that are the norm for these groups, for classrooms, the school and for conceptualising the school as an integral part of its local community. Students belong to a number of different communities of practice in schools, to some as core members, and to others as occasional participating members. These often change over the course of an individual student’s membership of a school. These communities are ‘important places of negotiation, learning, meaning and identity’ (Wenger 1998: 133). Learners learn, behave and construct their identities within their own communities at home and in the school, such as peer or friendship group, sports team, and so on. Students, for example, organize themselves with their peers, that is, create a practice within the community, to do the work that is important to them. As they do this they ‘develop or preserve a sense of’ themselves that they ‘can live with, have some fun, and fulfil the requirements of’ (Wenger 1998: 6) the community’s goals. The sense of belonging to, or marginalisation from, a community affects every aspect of participation and, therefore, learning within it, and also affects a student’s behaviour and self-perception. The identity of community members is influenced by the extent to which interactions within the group engage and acknowledge them. A coherent identity is necessarily a combination of inclusion in some communities and non-participation in others.

Restorative practice Fundamental to addressing behavioural concerns in schools is an understanding that a basic human need is the sense of belonging and acceptance in a social group that shows care and respect for its members. It may not be easy to engage with and acknowledge students whose behaviour in schools is experienced as challenging or threatening, but nevertheless they have the same basic needs as any other individual. In some schools and local areas, particular programmes have been devised to address issues of problematic behaviour based in general terms on the principles of ‘restorative practice’. Such practice can employ traditional conflict resolution processes and culturally appropriate mechanisms drawn from the school’s external community to address and resolve 283

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tension and make justice visible and more productive in communities inside the school (Anderson et al. 1996). Such initiatives shift the focus on to whole communities and away from the victim or the perpetrator in order to harness the necessary resources to address the problems that have resulted in unacceptable, unsociable behaviours (Schweigert 1999). Restoration requires that harm done to a relationship is understood and acknowledged and that effort is made to repair that harm. Powerful mechanisms of situated learning (Lave and Wenger 1991) can empower members of external and internal communities to experience reciprocal accountability, respect and support. By incorporating restorative justice principles in their behaviour management strategies, some schools have been able to support the victim(s) of wrongdoing, enable reparation of damage done by individual students, maintain their inclusion in the institution, and also help to restore the integrity of their communities, inside and outside the school. There is a long pre-European tradition of restorative practice among Ma-ori in Aotearoa, New Zealand, ‘for as long as many can recall’ (Restorative Practices Development Team 2003: 1). Hui whakatika are still conducted according to traditional protocols and customs. These include learning from elders, speaking in turn, not interrupting anyone speaking, and continuing the discussion until the elders judge that a consensus position has been reached, followed by a collective responsibility to uphold the decision of the hui that is overseen by one or more of the elders. In New Zealand, the Restorative Practices Development Team at the University of Waikato School of Education has set out a number of guidelines for restorative conferences in schools based on the outcomes of research projects intended to reduce student suspensions (Restorative Practices Development Team 2003: 13):  A conference, as appropriate, begins with karakia (prayers) and mihimihi (greetings) that acknowledge the presence and dignity of all in attendance.  ‘The problem is the problem, the person is not the problem’ goes on the board or is spoken about.  What is hoped to happen in the hui (meeting)? Each person has a chance to speak.  What is the problem that has brought those present at the meeting? Each person will tell their own version.  What are the effects of that problem on all present at the meeting (and others)?  What times, places and relationships are known where the problem is not present?  Restoration requires that: harm done to a relationship is understood and acknowledged and that effort is made to repair that harm. In order for that restoration to happen, the voices of those affected by the offence need to be heard in the process of seeking redress.

Example 1 Wearmouth et al. (2007b) describe how the protocols of restorative practice outlined above were brought into operation to restore the harm done by the behaviour of 15-year-old ‘Wiremu’ at school and at home. Outside school he had taken his mother’s car for a drive several times without her permission, despite being unlicensed and under-age. Things came to a head when he had gone out joy-riding in the car yet again, crashed into the fence of the adjoining garden, damaged a number of trees and other plants, and broken several garden gnomes. His mother was very upset about the incident, but Wiremu expressed no remorse about the damage done to the car, just amusement about the demolition of the garden gnomes. During the restorative process, the intervention operated through traditional Ma-ori protocols to shift the focus away from those affected by Wiremu’s actions and from Wiremu himself on to the whole community in order to focus on ‘putting things right’ between all those involved 284

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in the wrongdoing. The behaviour support teacher to whom Wiremu had been referred organised a meeting at the local rugby club, where Wiremu was a keen member, and invited everyone who knew him to attend. When the boy arrived, unaware of the true reason why he was being taken to the club, everyone was given a chance to speak about him—teachers, community elders, friends and relations. Mostly it was in very glowing terms—about his captaincy of a rugby team, his personal qualities, and so on. Then his mother talked about the loss of the car that meant so much to the family, and the neighbour talked about his dead wife who had bought the broken gnomes. What happened subsequently was a surprise to everybody. Wiremu cried, apologized, offered to make amends and begged forgiveness from the neighbour and his mother. Subsequently he kept his word, supported by his family and the wider community. Traditional community conflict resolution processes had been able to address and resolve tension, make justice visible and more productive, support the restoration of harmony between Wiremu, those upset by his wrongdoing and the collective, and enable him once again to participate positively in the communities in which he was a member. As the behaviour support teacher commented, ‘The meeting ended with everyone walking away with their mana [personal standing] and wairua [sense of spiritual well-being] strengthened by what they had seen’ (Wearmouth et al. 2007b: 43).

Example 2 Another example comes from a primary school where 98 per cent of the students were Ma-ori (Berryman and MacFarlane 2011). Hui whakatika had largely replaced student suspensions because, as the Principal explained, where there was conflict, physical or verbal, between students, the most important thing was seen as repairing and rebuilding the relationship between them. The Principal described a recent situation when the school had successfully used hui whakatika to resolve a serious behavioural issue. The physically largest boy in the school had been bullying the other children in his class. The final straw came one day when he pulled another child’s chair out, causing the child to hurt his back. Then the bully picked the boy up by the neck, wrung it and laughed. The class teacher had witnessed this and reported the incident to the Deputy Principal, who decided to initiate the hui whakatika process through the Resource Teachers Learning and Behaviour (RTLB) based in the school (one Ma-ori, the other non-Ma-ori). The RTLB, each with long standing in the community, visited the families and invited all parties concerned to attend a hui whakatika. They explained that the intention of the hui was to address the situation by restoring the relationship between the students as well as safety to the class and school. Both families agreed to come. The bully and his family knew that there was no compulsion to attend the hui and, in agreeing to go, that there was an implicit admission of the bully’s guilt and that there could possibly be an agreed consequence if those at the hui deemed it. Also, as the Principal said, it would be ‘okay for mum and dad and the victim to be angry at the behaviour and that’s a huge part of it. We want them to be emotional and show their hurt so that the perpetrator sees … I didn’t just hurt the boy over there I hurt Mum and her Nani and her Uncle. They’re all crying … and I feel bloody terrible’. The RTLB Ma-ori began with a karakia (formal prayers) and a mihimihi to everyone (formal greetings where all present introduced themselves). Then he outlined the kaupapa (the formal proceedings, including the order of speaking). The Principal explained how the hui took an interesting turn when the father of the victim came forward to speak to the bully. He first said he knew his son could be ‘a bit of a smart-ass’, but that he did not deserve to be treated the way he had been. The father then publicly acknowledged something that few of those present had known about previously. He explained that he used to be a bully too. He had been in prison several times. He showed the boy his 285

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tattoos. ‘I did this when I was in such and such … in prison and I was doing exactly what you did. I thought it was okay. It wasn’t.’ Then the bully started crying. The victim’s father said he could see himself mirrored in the bully, and offered to involve him in his hobby, hunting. ‘Come up and stay at my place but the most important thing I want you and my boy to get along.’ The bully was not suspended but remained as a member of the school community. In reflecting on the outcome, the Principal commented that what had really affected the bully was the realization that although the victim was extremely intelligent, he did not come from a privileged background, as the bully had previously assumed. He also saw that the victim’s father had understood him, and was forgiving. For the rest of the year both boys gained a huge amount of respect and remained on positive speaking terms.

Discussion and conclusion As Bruner (1996) notes, one of the prime responsibilities of schools is to support the construction of a student’s sense of self through an acknowledgement of agency and the development of selfesteem. It is essential, therefore, to examine the way in which school practices contribute to a student’s construction of a concept of self, and his/her feelings about being able to cope with the world both during and after the years of compulsory schooling. Participation in a community is ‘transformative’ both to participants and to the group (Davies 2004). For both boys in the examples above it was important to be reintegrated as positive participants in the school community. These students might have been identified as deviant, suffering from attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), labelled as having emotional and behavioural difficulties (EBD) or something else, and charged with criminal damage to property or violent assault. Instead, they developed a whole new level of understanding of other people and relationships. Restorative practice capitalises on the strengths available within families, children and teachers, which will enable them to take joint responsibility for overcoming the behavioural concerns associated with individuals and restore harmony within school communities. The boys repaired the damage they had caused, and, with the support of family and community, positive relationships were established and a whole different future was opened out for everyone.

References Anderson, C., Gendler, G., Riestenberg, N., Anfang, C.C., Ellison, M. and Yates, B. (1996) Restorative Measures Respecting Everyone’s Ability to Resolve Problems. St Paul, MN: Minnesota Department of Children, Families and Learning: Office of Community Services. Berryman, M. and MacFarlane, S. (2011) ‘Hui whakatika: Indigenous contexts for repairing and rebuilding relationships’. In V. Margrain and A. Macfarlane (eds), Responsive Pedagogy: Engaging Restoratively with Challenging Behaviour. Wellington, New Zealand: NZCER Press, 127–45. Bishop, R. and Glynn, T. (1999) Culture Counts: Changing Power Relations in Education. Palmerston North, New Zealand: Dunmore Press. Blair, M. (2004) ‘The education of Black children: Why do some schools do better than others?’ In J. Wearmouth, R.C. Richmond and T. Glynn (eds), Addressing Pupils’ Behaviour. London: Fulton, chapter 6, 67–85. BPS (British Psychological Society) (1996) Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD): A Psychological Response to an Evolving Concept. Leicester: BPS. Bruner, J. (1996) The Culture of Education. London: Harvard University Press. Daothong, J. (2010) What More can we Take Away from the Chinese Community? London: Black Training and Enterprise Group. Davies, S. (2004) ‘Barriers to belonging: Students’ perceptions of factors which affect participation in schools’. In J. Wearmouth, T. Glynn, R.C. Richmond and M. Berryman (eds), Inclusion and Behaviour Management in Schools. London: Fulton, 322–41. 286

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Department for Children, Schools and Families (DCSF) (2009) Statistical First Release: Permanent and Fixed Period Exclusions from Schools and Exclusion Appeals in England, 2007/08. London: DCFS. ——(n.d.) Achievements at GCSE and Equivalents by Ethnicity, Free Schools Meals and Gender. Coverage: England, Years 2002–2009, www.dcfs.gov.uk. DfE (Department for Education) (1994) Youth Cohort Study. London: DfE. DfES (Department for Education and Skills) (2002) Statistics of Education: Permanent Exclusions from Maintained Schools in England. Issue 09/02. London: DfES. Irvine, J. (1990) Black Students and School Failure. New York: Praeger. Lave, J. and Wenger, E. (1991) Situated Learning: Legitimate Peripheral Participation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Majors, R. (2001a) ‘Understanding the current educational status of black children’. In R. Majors (ed.), Educating our Black Children: New Directions and Radical Approaches. RoutledgeFalmer. ——(ed.) (2001b) Educating our Black Children: New Directions and Approaches. London: RoutledgeFalmer. Majors, R. and Billson, J.M. (1992) Cool Pose: The Dilemmas of Black Manhood in America. New York: Lexington Books. MoE (Ministry of Education) (2001) Educational Statistics for July 1, 2001. Wellington, New Zealand: MoE. ——(2003) Statement of Intent 2003–2008. Wellington: MoE. ——(2010) Education Counts: Stand-downs, Suspensions, Exclusions and Expulsions from School. Wellington: MoE. Ofsted (Office for Standards in Education) (1996) Exclusions from Secondary Schools 1995/6. London: Ofsted. ——(1999) Raising the Attainment of Minority Ethnic Pupils: School and LEA’s Response. London: Ofsted. Ogbu, J.U. (1997) ‘Understanding the school performance of urban blacks: Some essential background knowledge’. In H. Wahlberg, O. Reyes and R. Weissburg (eds), Children and Youth: Interdisciplinary Perspectives. London: Sage. Osborne, J. (2004) ‘Academic disidentification: Unravelling underachievement among Black boys’. In J. Wearmouth, T. Glynn and M.J. Berryman (eds), Understanding Pupil Behaviour in Schools. London: Fulton, chapter 5, 51–66. Rampton, A. (1981) West Indian Children in our Schools, Cmnd 8273. London: HMSO. Restorative Practices Development Team (2003) Restorative Practices for Schools. Hamilton, NZ: University of Waikato. Schweigert, F.J. (1999) ‘Moral behaviour in victim offender conferencing’. Criminal Justice Ethics, Summer/ Fall: 29–40. Sewell, T. (1997) Black Masculinities and Schooling: How Black Boys Survive Modern Schooling. Stoke on Trent: Trentham Books. Steele, C. (1992/1997) ‘A threat in the air: How stereotypes shape intellectual identity and performance’. American Psychologist 52: 613–29. Swann, Lord (1985) Education for All. Final report of the Committee of Enquiry into the education of children from ethnic minority groups, Cmnd 9453. London: HMSO. Watt, D., Sheriffe, G. and Majors, R. (1999) ‘Mentoring black male pupils’. Unpublished manuscript, Manchester, City College. Wearmouth, J., Glynn, T. and Berryman, M. (2005) Perspectives on Student Behaviour in Schools. London: Routledge. Wearmouth, J., McKinney, R. and Glynn, T. (2007a) ‘Restorative justice: Two examples from New Zealand schools’. British Journal of Special Education 34(4): 196–203. ——(2007b) ‘Restorative justice in schools: A New Zealand example’. Educational Research 49(1): 37–49. Wenger, E. (1998) Communities of Practice: Learning, Meaning and Identity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wenger, E., McDermott, R. and Snyder, W.M. (2002) Cultivating Communities of Practice. Boston, MA: Harvard Business School Press.

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32 Volunteer engagement with young people at risk of exclusion Developing new perceptions of pupil and adult relationships Richard Rose

Introduction In 1999 the English government launched its Excellence in Cities (EiC) initiative, one aspect of which advocated the deployment of mentoring as a means of supporting children and young people who were having either social or academic difficulties in school. In English schools the designation ‘learning mentor’ has generally been used to describe salaried non-teaching school support staff who work with school and college students and pupils to help them address barriers to learning (Department for Education and Skills 2001). In identifying these barriers, an emphasis has been placed upon those personal and behavioural challenges that pupils face in schools that often inhibit social inclusion or lead to disengagement from learning. The introduction of mentoring approaches was one of a number of initiatives intended to raise educational standards and promote both educational and social inclusion in locations perceived to be problematic in terms of social cohesion and low aspiration within specific areas of England. In 2003 it was reported (Office for Standards in Education 2003) that the introduction of mentoring systems in schools was beginning to have benefits in terms of raising pupil expectations, and tackling issues related to poor attendance and disaffection. The use of learning mentors as a means of supporting young people has been subjected to research and scrutiny through a number of projects (Ellis 2003; Cruddas 2005; Rose and Doveston 2008). Whilst positive outcomes have been described in relation to many of the schemes investigated, it is also recognised that difficulties still remain in relation to the nature of the relationship between individuals who are perceived as authority figures representative of schools and those young people who may be disaffected or experiencing difficulties with learning (Jones et al. 2009). The majority of ‘in-school’ mentoring schemes make use of individuals who hold other positions (such as teaching assistants) within the school, causing some difficulties for pupils in respect of differentiating the varying roles played by these adults. Where pupils have negative attitudes towards schooling or authority figures in general, distinguishing the pastoral and supportive role 288

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of the mentor as distinct from that of a representative of school authority may cause some difficulties for pupils (Department for Education and Skills 2001). The development of relationships is a complex issue which may well be influenced by environmental factors such as the association of an adult with a school. It has been argued that the mentoring role is distinctive in providing a personal focus and supportive structure for the individual. This, it is suggested, may prove difficult to achieve in situations where an adult is expected to change to an alternative position within the school thereby causing some confusion in the mentor and mentee relationship (Roper-Marshall 2006). This difficulty may be further exacerbated in circumstances where pupils have problems in coming to terms with, or accepting the authority of adults in defined positions of responsibility such as teachers or teaching assistants in schools. For young people who are experiencing difficulties in their relationships with schools it may be easier to establish positive relationships with those individuals who are seen as separate from the institution whilst maintaining a clear focus upon the needs of the young person. It was with this belief in mind that a scheme for the support of young people at risk of school exclusion was established in a single local area.

The volunteer mentoring scheme A volunteer mentoring scheme in an area of poor socio-economic status within a single English Local Authority (LA)1 was developed through a partnership between that LA and a charitable trust to support young people perceived to be in need of support within their local communities. The young people (all aged between 11 and 15 years) offered mentoring through the service were identified as being at risk of failure in school and were deemed to be disaffected in relation to schooling or in respect of family or local community relationships. The scheme was implemented in order to provide support from trained adults based upon the development of secure and non-judgemental relationships. The volunteer mentors were managed by project leaders who had a background of working in the LA’s children’s services department. These individuals established contact and built relationships with local secondary schools and with their co-operation developed a protocol for delivering the scheme to pupils considered to be at risk of exclusion. Staff who worked in the schools attended by the young people were appraised of the procedures through which they could identify and nominate pupils to the scheme and were made aware of its purpose and modus operandi. Volunteers were recruited through local volunteer bureaux and received training in mentoring provided by the scheme managers prior to meeting with young people as potential mentees. The volunteers came from all walks of life and occupations and the majority had no professional experience of working with children or in schools. The training with which they were provided focused upon the development of relationships with young people based upon respect for individuality and with an emphasis upon understanding their needs and perspectives. In addition, the training provided an understanding of the aims of the scheme and the procedures to be adopted in ensuring its effective operation. The initial training sessions also attempted to provide some understanding of the difficulties experienced by the young people entering the scheme and of appropriate ways to work with them and their families. Following training, each volunteer met with a potential young person who had been referred by a school and who had themselves expressed an interest in coming on to the mentoring scheme. Progress beyond this point only occurred once there was agreement between the volunteer and the young person that they wished to form a partnership. At the initial meeting both parties were in a position to decline this relationship without recourse to explanation. Volunteers were supported by one of the scheme managers who maintained regular contact with both the mentors and their charges through telephone calls and face-to-face meetings. All volunteers 289

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were provided with a small weekly allowance in order to meet out-of-pocket expenses for their meetings with their mentees. This sum was usually used to provide funding for activities such as going to the cinema, sharing a meal at a local café, travelling to a particular event or for participation in an activity. The mentors provided the young people with a wide range of experiences which included country walks, ice skating, cinema visits, horse riding and rock climbing. These activities were negotiated between the two participants and whilst generally reflecting the interests of the young person, often enabled them to participate in new experiences. Meetings were generally held weekly, though some mentors maintained more regular contact with their mentees via telephone or email. Participation in the volunteer mentoring scheme by the young person was time-limited, the intention being to provide this form of support for six months (this period has now been extended with an option of maintaining service up to 12 months), at which point the scheme would end. It was hoped that during this period the young person would be afforded opportunities to explore their own needs, to have someone with whom to discuss their personal challenges and ideas, and to review their attitudes and expectations towards both schooling and the communities in which they lived. It was also anticipated that the scheme might impact positively upon the school attendance of the young people selected for mentoring and upon their general regard for both their schooling and the local neighbourhood. The volunteers had access to school staff through the project managers where needed, though for many pupils within the scheme this contact was either minimal or non-existent. Where discussions did take place between the volunteer mentor and the school, this was often initiated through the young person at times when they felt that the mentor could provide positive feedback on their behaviour or achievements.

The investigation The volunteer mentoring scheme had been in operation for approximately 18 months when the researchers were invited to conduct an analysis of its impact. The scheme was small-scale in its operation and was believed by the scheme managers and the commissioning Local Authority to have been successful. However, before considering expansion of the scheme, it was considered appropriate to conduct an independent study in order to identify strengths and weaknesses and to provide recommendations for future direction and development. The researchers were given full access to documentation related to the scheme and were assisted by the project managers to gain access to the scheme’s participants. An investigation into the efficacy of the scheme was undertaken by conducting semi-structured interviews with service users (young people in receipt of mentoring, their parents/carers, and teachers working with these young people), and service providers (the mentors and mentor managers). All interviews were undertaken by independent researchers following the securing of informed consent from individuals. Interviews took place in locations chosen by the interviewees and at times of convenience to them. All interviews were digitally recorded and transcribed. Data were subjected to categorical analysis using a framework based upon Creswell’s (2008) thematic approach (see Table 32.1). In addition to interview data, an analysis was made of volunteer mentoring project records, school and Local Authority data pertaining to attendance and attainment of pupils and (where available) school records of rewards and sanctions related to sample pupils.

Understanding the mentor and mentee relationship During interviews discussions about the relationships between adults and young people dominated. The mentors were keen to emphasise the non-judgemental aspects of their role and the 290

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Table 32.1 Interviews conducted Volunteers mentors Pupils in receipt of mentoring Parents/carers Project managers Teachers

N=6 N=9 N=5 N=2 N=5

importance of both empathising with and trying to understand the culture within which their mentees lived. Young people in receipt of mentoring recognised the abilities of mentors to understand their personal situation and believed that they were afforded respect that was not always forthcoming from other adults. Several of the young people expressed a view that they could talk more easily to their mentor than to other adults. INTERVIEWER:

When you are with your mentor do you feel you can talk about anything? Yes. When I first started seeing him it was like, when my mum and my sister were always arguing and that, and when my sister moved out. We were always talking about it, most of the time. INTERVIEWER: And you felt confident in doing that? YOUNG PERSON: Yes. INTERVIEWER: Could you talk to him about things you couldn’t talk to other people about? YOUNG PERSON: Well, I talked to him about most things YOUNG PERSON:

The volunteers participating in the scheme were able to articulate their views about the characteristics required to fulfil their role. These tended to focus upon the ability to listen in a responsive and non-judgemental manner and to demonstrate a continued commitment to the individual young person. I think you have got to be a very non-judgemental person and I think you have to have an abundance of patience. The ability to listen and not just hear the words and think about what is behind the words. Sometimes it is not what is said, it is what is behind what is said, so an ability to listen and understand and see the bigger picture. Commitment ‘cause without the commitment it really doesn’t work, as you need the commitment to get the trust and the whole thing links in. That’s the way I see it anyway. (Volunteer mentor) When asked about their motivations for joining the scheme, volunteers tended to focus on two factors. The first related to their personal and professional life experiences which they felt equipped them to work with young people. This often related to work place experiences of supporting colleagues or employees. A second motivation was more altruistic and related to a desire to help young people to feel better about themselves and to overcome personal difficulties. I looked at the skills I had got in work. I was previously an HR [Human Resources] manager, so various things, people things if you like, so really I tried to look for something that would utilise the skills the best if you like. And I had dealt a lot with young people coming into the workplace for the first time and I had taken a great interest in making sure they were mentored correctly as they came into the work environment, so it seemed a natural link if you like. (Volunteer mentor) 291

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What you have got to do, you have got to win their trust. So, there isn’t many people these kids do trust. They have lost their trust in adults, so it is getting that and hopefully building some kind of bridge with the parents as well. (Volunteer mentor) An appreciation of the need to try and see situations from the perspective of the young person was common amongst those volunteers interviewed. I do believe that the relationship, because these pupils, well the majority of these pupils are disaffected from emotional difficulties I would say. For whatever reason. And they are obviously very defensive, not letting people in, they have been hurt for whatever reason, so I think the initial relationship, you have got to build on that. And that is difficult. These kids are difficult otherwise they would not be put forward for the mentoring scheme anyway. So you have got to be the type of person that doesn’t give up easy, because it takes some time. (Volunteer mentor) Whilst the mentor and mentee relationship was clearly at the core of this scheme, the views of other influential adults might well have been significant in the development of attitudes and expectations. Parents interviewed were generally positive about the volunteering scheme once it had been in operation for a period of time and had proven successful for their child. However, many were candid in expressing the fact that at the outset their expectations were low and that they had little hope that mentoring would have a positive impact upon the lives of their children. INTERVIEWER:

how did you feel about XXX having a mentor when you first heard about the

scheme? PARENT/CARER:

I thought it was a load of rubbish, if you want my opinion. I don’t believe in people having extra treats because they have been naughty. And that is what I perceived it to be. Taking him out for meals and taking him bowling. INTERVIEWER: Did your opinion change? PARENT/CARER: Yes it did in the end. INTERVIEWER: So, why did it change? PARENT/CARER: ‘Cause I saw it were good for XXX. INTERVIEWER: In what ways? How did he change? PARENT/CARER: He is a lot more calmer now. Definitely. Doesn’t chuck as often. And one row he had had with his mum, he would actually ring his mentor and talk to her, rather than he would have shut the door before and said I am leaving home and gone up the road. So in that respect, yeah. INTERVIEWER: And has that improvement been maintained [since finishing on the scheme]? PARENT/CARER: Definitely. Yeah. Interviews with parents and carers revealed that many perceived having a child with difficulties had a negative impact upon their own lives and that they felt isolated from any means of effective support. INTERVIEWER:

Before the scheme started what were your hopes for it? Did you have any thoughts about that? PARENT/CARER: Well, no. It was like you have to sit and suffer in silence. Nobody out there wanted to help you. 292

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This feeling of isolation was reiterated by other parents and the young people themselves, who were able to express their views about how the scheme had benefited them. Whilst often the pupils interviewed had difficulties with communication, they were generally eager to be interviewed and to give a positive view of their experiences of mentoring. INTERVIEWER:

Did it make much difference to you, do you think, as a person? Yeah, it did really. INTERVIEWER: In what kind of ways? PUPIL: It helped me get to the bottom of things. INTERVIEWER: Has it made any difference to you in school? PUPIL: Yeah, actually I think it did me good. Made me better. INTERVIEWER: Better in what ways? PUPIL: Concentrating more in school and things. INTERVIEWER: And has that continued since you stopped having a mentor? PUPIL: Yeah. PUPIL:

Evidence of impact The qualitative data collected presented a positive picture of the mentoring scheme which was supported by the analysis of documentation. The majority of the pupils involved in the scheme had poor school attendance records and had also been subjected to disciplinary measures including school exclusion. Most were perceived as problematic in school, with staff expressing low expectations in respect of either academic performance or social engagement. The positive picture that emerged for pupils who were supported through the volunteer mentoring scheme was therefore particularly heartening. During the period of mentoring and for a sustained period of time following withdrawal from the scheme the attendance of pupils involved increased and the use of sanctions diminished. The efficacy of the scheme was further evidenced by the responses of teachers, who noted improvements in behaviour of the young people involved and a more positive demeanour in many of them. INTERVIEWER:

In terms of the impact of the scheme, the three lads I interviewed this morning said their behaviour has improved both in home and in school. Is that your general impression? TEACHER: Definitely. Yes. Because, it’s not just their behaviour, it is their personalities that have come out, they are far more confident, they are more willing to speak to adults about how they feel and it is a massive thing for a 12, 13, 14 year old person to go and meet adults … And they have grown, it has been a massive thing for them and the students that come in, they smile and they make a bit of eye contact, and that is a vast improvement on where they were prior to the scheme. This view was endorsed by the majority of the teachers interviewed, reinforcing the views of parents and of the mentors themselves. Overall the scheme was viewed as positive by all respondents to the research, which was further emphasised by the increased numbers of schools wishing to become involved in the process having heard reports of its impact upon young people and families.

The place of mentoring in supporting young people at risk of exclusion Mentoring has become a recognised approach to providing support for children and young people experiencing difficulties in school. The reasons for its success appear to be founded upon the 293

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establishment of positive relationships between the adult and the young person within a nonjudgemental scheme based upon mutual respect. The development of positive intergenerational relationships has been explored through a number of studies (Dallos and Comley-Ross 2005; Zeldin et al. 2005) and these have provided evidence of the difficulties that often exist in establishing trust and confidence whilst emphasising the potential benefits when they are overcome. The specific elements of this intergenerational relationship as observed in the volunteer mentoring project resonate with those conditions required for working with children at risk identified by Rogers (1980), who identified the need for a focus upon:  Unconditional positive regard: the communication of an absolute acceptance of an individual’s worth.  Empathy: the ability to see the point of view of another and to express an understanding of feelings.  Congruence: communicating an honest reaction to an individual—good or bad. Each of these three was in evidence within this scheme and formed the basis upon which successful relationships were formed. The training provided to volunteer mentors stressed the importance of accepting the individuality of young people without being judgemental with regards to their past relationships and actions. Volunteers were similarly encouraged to develop effective listening skills and to provide an honest response to the views expressed by their mentees without recourse to personal or critical language. Such schemes will, of course, only succeed when appropriate training is provided to the volunteers involved and the purpose of the scheme is carefully explained to all involved and has the affirmation of all parties. However, as was seen during this project, even those parents who were initially sceptical with regards to the potential of the use of volunteer mentors to make an impact upon the lives of pupils found themselves impressed by the responses of young people to the procedures adopted. The positive outcomes from this small-scale project correlate with those reported for similar evaluations of the use of volunteer mentors in addressing issues of disaffection and challenging behaviour. Gilligan (1999) reported improved self-esteem, mental health and confidence in young people in public care when provided with support by volunteer mentors, though he expressed concerns that the development of short-term mentor and mentee relationships may limit the sustainability of the positive impacts observed. St James Roberts (2001), reporting a community-based programme using trained volunteer mentors aimed at preventing long-term antisocial behaviour, social exclusion and criminal offending, described increased trust between adults and young people, and improved behaviour in mentored individuals. Both of these studies indicate the potential for building upon this approach whilst recognising the need for further investigation over a longer period. Whilst our understanding of the sustainability and longer-term impact of schemes such as that described in this chapter are as yet limited, this must be an approach to supporting young people at risk that is worthy of greater consideration.

Acknowledgement The author wishes to acknowledge the young people and their families and schools who participated in the research reported in this paper and the work of Kyffin Jones and Mary Doveston, co-researchers on the project.

Note 1 The countries of the UK are divided into smaller areas, called local authorities, each governed by an elected council that implements national laws but has discretion to decide many local issues. 294

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References Creswell, J. (2008) Educational Research: Planning, Conducting and Evaluating Quantitative and Qualitative Research, third edn. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Pearson. Cruddas, L. (2005) Learning Mentors in Schools, Policy and Practice. Stoke-on-Trent: Trentham. Dallos, R. and Comley-Ross, P. (2005) ‘Young people’s experience of mentoring: Building trust and attachments’. Clinical Child Psychology and Psychiatry 10(3): 369–83. Department for Education and Skills (2001) Good Practice Guidance for Learning Mentors. London: DfES. Ellis, S. (2003) Changing the Lives of Children and Older People: Intergenerational Mentoring in Secondary Schools. Research Report: The Beth Johnson Foundation and Manchester Metropolitan University. Gilligan, R. (1999) ‘Enhancing the resilience of children and young people in public care by mentoring their talents and interests’. Child and Family Social Work 4(3): 187–96. Jones, K., Doveston, M. and Rose, R. (2009) ‘The motivations of mentors: promoting relationships, supporting pupils, engaging with communities’. Pastoral Care in Education 27(1): 41–51. Office for Standards in Education (2003) Excellence in Cities and Education Action Zones: Management and Impact. London: OFSTED. Rogers, C. (1980) A Way of Being. Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin. Roper-Marshall, H. (2006) ‘Professionalism and whole primary school factors aiding and impeding the work of the learning mentor’. Support for Learning 21(4): 194–98. Rose, R. (2008) ‘Promoting inclusion by addressing the needs of local communities: working together to promote social and educational cohesion’. In C. Forlin (ed.), Catering for Learners with Diverse Needs: An Asia Pacific Focus. Hong Kong: Hong Kong Institute of Education Press. Rose, R. and Doveston, M. (2008) ‘Pupils talking about their learning mentors: what can we learn?’ Educational Studies 34(2): 145–55. Rose, R. and Jones, K. (2007) ‘The efficacy of a volunteer mentoring scheme in supporting young people’. Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 12(1): 3–14. St James Roberts, I. (2001) Can Mentors Help Primary School Children with Behaviour Problems? Home Office Research Study 233. London: Home Office Research, Development and Statistics Directorate. Zeldin, S., Larson, R., Camino, L. and O’Connor, C. (2005) Intergenerational relationships and partnerships in community programs: Purpose, practice, and directions for research. Journal of Community Psychology 33(1): 1–10.

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33 The pastoral pedagogy of teaching assistants Roger Hancock

Introduction This chapter argues that teaching assistants (with their various role titles) have, increasingly, since the 1970s, provided essential teaching but also nurturing and pastoral support to children with emotional and behaviour difficulties (EBD) in UK primary schools. However, like other ‘assistants’ in social and health services, their work deserves more recognition. It is suggested in this chapter that, because of the ‘place’ and pedagogical space in which they often find themselves working, teaching assistants are able to provide children with a distinctive form of help and encouragement that complements the class-oriented teaching provided by a qualified teacher. The chapter arises from the author’s personal experience and reflection but it is set against a relevant research literature that includes his own involvement in teaching assistant research, and his professional learning as a lecturer at The Open University. Twelve years of university work have put him in contact with the many assistants studying modules within a primary foundation degree. The chapter is also informed by the recent filming of teaching assistants in action in four primary schools across the UK.

Teaching assistants They will enquire likewise whether the children are taught private prayers to repeat at home; and whether the teachers keep up any intercourse with the parents, so that the authority of the latter may be combined with that of the former in the moral training of the pupils. (Instructions to inspectors, minutes of the Committee of Council, 1840–41, p.11, cited in Eden 1879)

The above instructions to inspectors can be seen as an early formulation of parental involvement in children’s education—in this instance their moral learning. It also announces the need for collaboration between teachers and parents and the benefits of recruiting parents as ‘outreach assistants’ to help teachers teach the school curriculum. It was parental involvement in children’s school learning that paved the way for the entry of additional adults in classrooms. For a long time, such involvement only occurred through parents’ 296

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incidental participation in homework when children sought to share this with them, especially when they found homework too difficult to complete on their own. Following this, some schools set up ‘home-school schemes’ in reading and maths and, to a lesser extent, science, seeking to bring parents into children’s school learning in a more organized and collaborative way (Merttens et al. 1996). The shift from having parents helping schools from the outside to having them assisting within schools was discussed many years ago by the Plowden Report (CACE 1967), which reviewed English primary education and recommended ‘aides’ who would assist teachers and children. It was the Warnock Report (1978),1 however, and the increased inclusion in mainstream primaries of children with learning and behaviour needs that led to the recruitment of assistants to provide one-to-one and small-group support. From the late 1980s, increasing delegation to schools of local authority-held budgets also gave head teachers the means to appoint staff other than qualified teachers. Adamson (1999), in a review of the literature on teaching assistants, suggests that there has been a steady and natural growth in numbers but significant increases occurred in the 1990s when target numbers of assistants became part of government policy and associated with the wish to raise standards in schools. Latterly, assistants have been deployed by government to reduce teacher workloads—workloads that, to a large extent, were made unreasonably heavy by new government initiatives, targets, accountability and inspection. The English Children Act (2004) and the policy wish that there should be an integrated children’s workforce has also brought more adults into schools, such as learning mentors and parent support assistants. The policy measures arising from the English government’s ‘Every Child Matters’ (DfES 2003a) strategy have provided an increased emphasis on multi-professional and multi-agency working; ‘workforce reform’ in schools (DfES 2003b) is aimed at clarifying roles and better integrating teaching assistants and others into team working. Some primary schools in England and Wales now have almost as many teaching assistants as they do qualified teachers, but this is less so for schools in Northern Ireland and Scotland, where funding availability and government and professional priorities have not led to such a growth. It is in England and Wales where considerable overlap of roles between teachers and teaching assistants has most occurred. Both countries have specialist assistants with such diverse responsibilities, for example, as working with children with profound communicational difficulties, running nurture groups, organizing whole-school music, developing a school’s art curriculum, leading on new technology, and providing occupational therapy. Both countries also have senior and higher-level teaching assistants, who cover classes for teacher release and, invariably, find themselves planning for lessons, teaching these lessons and assessing children (Hancock et al. 2010). Senior teaching assistants might also take on management responsibilities which involve the appraisal of other assistants and support for their professional learning and training. The teaching assistant workforce can thus be seen as a very significant presence in UK primary schools, not only in terms of numbers but also because of the life experience and skills they themselves bring to their work (Hancock and Cable 2001). Over the years, teaching assistants have become increasingly diversified, stratified and professionalized, in many ways echoing how the teaching workforce itself is organized. In some schools, the job jurisdictions of teaching assistants are now as highly varied as those of teachers—perhaps more so. Currently, following the banking and economic crises, the need for budgetary restraint across the public services is putting the teaching assistant workforce at risk. For many, there is the likelihood of a loss of hours and, for some, the non-renewal of contracts. However, there is reason to think that teaching assistants have become so embedded in life and learning in schools, and so significant to the support of children who are troubled or troublesome, that it is hard to imagine how the existing number of teachers could manage without them as team colleagues. 297

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Emotions and learning All learning, successful or otherwise, involves our emotions as, indeed, does teaching. Even at The Open University (OU) emotions can, for instance, run high at staff training development workshops, when established practices need to undergo changes requiring new learning and the disbandment of time-honoured ways of working. Students, too, many of whom at the OU are mature returners to study, can display emotions on module virtual learning environments and in tutorials. Of course, we are talking of grown-ups here who, it is assumed, have learned to manage their emotions because they have reached adulthood. In schools, especially primary schools, children are growing and developing and thus getting to know their emotions. It should come as no surprise that they need time and practice to understand how best to express and, where necessary, control their feelings. Children, moreover, come from families where there is a wide range of ways of showing feelings and behaving. They bring this family and cultural learning to classrooms where, given the ratio of adults to children, a more limited range of responses is expected in order that teaching can proceed as planned. Perhaps, therefore, schools should expect and seek to better understand emotional responses from children, whether or not this is in the form of disruptive or challenging behaviour. The other consideration is that schools, even when they endeavour to be pupil-focused and pupilconsulting, are places where adults provide a fairly circumscribed set of experiences for learners. The assumption is that children will fit in and not that they might have difficulties fitting in. It is only when some children express emotional reactions to this ‘one-way street’ that we are forced to consider the extent to which all children are, in fact, quite controlled when at school. Playground duty provides an adult with a contrasting context in terms of how children wish to be when not directed by adults. Looked at in this way, it is perhaps surprising that children are not more challenging when in a classroom. In schools, even primary schools, however, children’s emotional differences are generally not encouraged, as this would take valuable time away from teaching. Another consideration is that schools function on the precept that children will move through successive year groups together and this means a reinforcement of age-appropriateness in terms of academic learning but also behaviour. Much educational theory and practice stems from this organizational requirement rather than firmly based on the nature of children as young people. Children’s emotional reactions to being schooled can thus be seen to arise, somewhat rationally, because they feel they would rather not be organized by adults in this way. Teachers have always needed to react appropriately and sensitively to this. Indeed, one of the demands of class teaching is frequently responding to the multiple emotional demands of a large group of children. Teaching assistants have been able to take on aspects of this work given that, in their small group contexts, they have more time to give to individual children. Thus, they have increased a school’s ability to listen to children and to genuinely respond to their feelings and concerns.

The work of teaching assistants The idea that teaching assistants ‘assist’ teachers has been the official view of a teaching assistant’s role for a long time, and many policy-makers continue to regard their work in this way. Suggesting that teaching assistants teach has been taboo, but this reluctance appears to be changing. In England and Wales higher-level teaching assistants were originally meant to simply ‘cover’ lessons that were previously planned lessons by teachers, but there is reason to think that many are teaching, not least because covering invariably involves interaction with children and that potentially moves an adult into a teaching relationship (see Hancock et al. 2010; Sendorek 2009). The OU’s Foundation 298

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Degree for teaching assistants is clear on this being a degree in primary ‘teaching and learning’, rather than a degree ‘in supporting learning’, for example. Dillow (2010: 8) suggests that teaching assistants are involved ‘in jobs that look like teaching, as well as in more traditional assisting tasks’. Although, in theory, ‘assisting’ marks out a conceptual distinction between teachers and assistants, in practice this is very difficult to maintain. This is because the effect of what adults do with children in schools is, to a considerable degree, determined by children’s reactions to the adults who work with them. Teaching is not something that can be done ‘to’ children. In order to be successful, it is an act that needs their involvement—something that is done ‘with’ them. Children are therefore always agents in the teaching enterprise because they have influence over whether or not teaching happens. It therefore follows that a teaching assistant could conceivably, from a child’s perspective, teach more effectively than a teacher. Eyres et al. (2004) note this in a study of how children perceive the difference between teachers and teaching assistants.

Personal support to children Notwithstanding the running debate about impact on children’s academic performance (e.g. Blatchford et al. 2009), it can be argued that for all children, and especially those experiencing emotional and behaviour difficulties, the personalized involvements that many teaching assistants regularly have with them are very important. Moreover, this provision of pastoral care does much to maintain the inclusion of children who are unhappy in classrooms—children who otherwise might find themselves in altercations with teachers and possibly excluded from schools. The literature does give recognition to this aspect of a teaching assistant’s work (e.g. Neill 2002; Blatchford et al. 2009), but further comment is needed. To give a sense of this deeper nurturing contribution, here is an extract from an assignment submitted by a student enrolled on the OU’s Foundation Degree for teaching assistants: The children were working on number patterns. Two girls were chatting and laughing so I sat with them. I asked them to concentrate on their work but one of them said they didn’t want to do it. I went through what they should be doing and helped them to get on with it which they mostly did (Key Skill, 4.1). (Student assignment, 5 May 2010) The ‘key skill’ reference in brackets has been included by the student to show that her actions with the children have met a module learning outcome—’show an awareness of different approaches to problem solving’—the problem here being the children not engaging with the teacher’s instructions. Although there has been differentiation of teaching assistant roles, this will still be seen as a classic contribution by most teaching assistants. To some extent, the role is one of being an intermediary who notices a classroom problem, takes steps to resolve it and reinforces a teacher’s wishes—on the face of it, therefore, this is a pure piece of ‘assistance’. However, personal contact with teaching assistants, the reading of their assignments and scrutiny of some 40 hours of video showing teaching assistants in action, suggests that the above extract underplays a deeper practice. Typically, this will show the ability to:  recognize very early on that there is a localised classroom problem brewing;  quietly (because a teacher might still be talking to the class or, at least, talking to some children) move towards children in an unthreatening way;  quickly read the situation and also the emotions of the children, appeal to their ‘better nature’ and elicit their co-operation; 299

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 use friendliness, informality (and often humour) to help children engage with what they should be doing;  help children to work productively together and help each other;  stay with them as necessary to help engagement with and lift off into the task;  show respect, consideration and care for the children. A classic tension here, of course, is that between task and care. This is historically a difficult balance in schools where there are large numbers of children and relatively few adults. There is reason to think that across the public services the concerted focus on specified targets with compliance through inspection has made those in the caring professions task-focused at the cost of care. Patterson (2011), for instance, argues that care is at risk within nursing and that this is related to changes in nurse training and a new professional culture oriented towards raising certain kinds of standards. In schools, too, it can be argued that task completion, related to readily measured targets, especially in literacy and numeracy, has resulted in teachers becoming distanced from children’s personal and emotional needs. Indeed, the ubiquitous use of ‘delivering’ the curriculum rather than ‘teaching’ it seems to denote this practice shift. Pizzas and mail can be delivered but, if children are regarded as active agents with feelings about learning, teaching is a long way from delivery. Traditionally, teaching assistants have been mothers who wish to work locally to be available to their children after school and in school holidays. Many surveys over the years have confirmed this and this is still largely the case, although, as some teaching assistant roles have become more specialized and extended, and also better remunerated, a wider range of people are seeking to take on the role. There are signs from those with the OU—currently just over 1,000 teaching assistants across the UK enrolled across three one-year, part-time modules—that the work is now beginning to attract younger women, but also men who may or may not be fathers. The vast majority, well over 90 per cent, however, continue to be women between the ages of 30 and 55 who are mothers. Many teaching assistants are therefore experienced, indeed accomplished, parents, and this gives them a particular perspective on children, their personalities, ways of behaving and relating to each other and to adults, and, moreover, insights into the nature of children’s growth and development. This can be a very significant experiential resource for primary schools, particularly at a time when teachers, like nurses and social workers, have been given additional work, often bureaucratic in kind, which serves to take them away from face-to-face contact with those in their care. Donald Winnicott, John Bowlby, Melanie Klein and many others (see Chapter 12, this volume) have written very powerfully about the potential consequences of poor or damaging parenting on children’s psychological and emotional development. It could be argued, therefore, that the skills and perspectives of a good parent are at least, if not more, important to an individual child as those of a good teacher. How fortunate for schools, therefore, that teaching assistants, as experienced parents, are now a part of the primary school workforce, augmenting what teachers bring to children’s education. Many teachers, of course, have parenting experience too, but they need to practise in a slightly different classroom ‘place’ which favours a different set of professional skills—those necessary for effective class teaching. During the 1990s the rapid growth of the teaching assistant workforce was sometimes jokingly referred to by some commentators as a ‘mum’s army’ (Ainscow 2000), hinting that mothering is in some way a non-serious contribution to primary school life and learning. This underestimation would seem to arise from professional defensiveness rather than an understanding of what good mothering actually involves. 300

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It would be idealistic to suggest that all teaching assistants, even if they are mothers, are especially able at providing pastoral care to children, but, from the author’s research and professional experience, many do appear to be. Their personalised approaches to working with children enable the inclusion of those who otherwise might disengage from teachers and schools. This is not to criticise the practice of teachers but more to recognise that teaching assistants, released from the responsibility of leading a class, can operate in a different way and have more time to build informal relationships with troubled children. Teachers, of course, provide pastoral care too, but their opportunities for sustained interactions with individuals are less, given the primacy of their planning, overseeing and monitoring roles.

A working context ‘I am the space where I am.’ (Noël Arnaud, quoted in Bachelard 1994: 137)

From the writer’s observations of teaching assistants, it can be suggested that many occupy a working ‘space’ that is different to that of many teachers. This was brought out in the above extract from a student’s assignment and is further illustrated by a classroom observation of a volunteer teaching assistant playing a language-learning board game with two young boys. Whilst overseeing and participating in the game, the volunteer maintains the flow of the activity but is also prepared to have informal exchanges with the children which may or may not be directly related to the game. This social ‘leeway’ serves to help the children feel that they are personally important and this helps to keep them involved. She thus strikes a productive balance between nurture and progressing a planned learning activity, which lies, it could be argued, at the heart of a pedagogical approach that can be supportive of children with emotional and behaviour difficulties. Here, then, is a context wherein a teaching assistant working with an individual or a small group of children can adopt a different teaching approach and reorder many of the pedagogic priorities that a teacher must have as a class teacher. The blend of two pedagogies offers important support for all children, but especially those who find the demands of school quite difficult.

Conclusion This chapter has argued that teaching assistants have a distinctive contribution to make vis-à-vis the integration of pastoral care into their work with children. This seems relevant whether or not children are troubled or troubling because all children stand to benefit from personalised approaches to teaching. Despite a growing research literature that analyses the role and work of teaching assistants, there is reason to believe that this pastoral dimension and its impact on inclusion has not been sufficiently acknowledged. It has been suggested that two considerations related to assistants are relevant to this argument. The first relates to the parenting skills (mothering) that the great majority of teaching assistants bring to an understanding of children—their ways and their personal needs. This empathy, and the associated experiential knowledge, stands to be utilised by teaching assistants to foster close relationships with children. As a pedagogic approach, it offers an alternative, informal way of enlisting the co-operation and interest of children—especially those who may be at risk of turning away from school. To argue that teaching assistants do not teach is to undervalue the therapeutic pedagogy that is involved in their close academic and pastoral support. This can lead to children’s participation rather than disengagement, so how can this not be seen as an important teaching skill? 301

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Second, many teaching assistants have a distinctive ‘place’ to work that enables this informal pedagogy. This place can be contrasted with that of class teachers who, because of their responsibility for a large number of children, tend to be more formal, instructional and, necessarily, distanced from children as individuals. However, this is not meant as a criticism of teachers. Instead of viewing teaching assistants as subordinates to be deployed as necessary by teachers, it would be more productive to think of two important classroom roles that overlap to some extent, but differ too. Together they appear to offer a stimulating mix of teaching styles to the benefit of children’s learning and behaviour in classrooms.

Note 1 The Warnock Report was written after a major inquiry in England into educational provision for ‘handicapped’ children and popularized the term ‘special educational needs’ (SENs). It cautiously advocated more ‘integration’ for children with SENs in mainstream schools, but saw a continuing role for special schools, particularly for those with complex needs or severe EBD.

References Adamson, S. (1999) Review of Published Literature on Teaching Assistants. Report for the DfEE Teaching Assistants Project. London: DfEE. Ainscow, M. (2000) ‘Poor tactics let down mum’s army’. Times Educational Supplement 31 March: 24. Bachelard, G. (1994) The Poetics of Space. Boston, MA: Beacon Press. Blatchford, P., Bassett, P., Brown, P. and Webster, R. (2009) ‘The effect of support staff on pupil engagement and individual attention’. British Educational Research Journal 35(5): 661–86. CACE (1967) The Plowden Report: Children and their Primary Schools. Volume 1. A Report of Central Advisory Council for Education (England). London: HMSO. DfEE (Department for Education and Employment) (1998) The National Literacy Strategy. A Framework for Teaching. London: DfEE. ——(1999) The National Numeracy Strategy. A Framework for Teaching Mathematics from Reception to Year 6. London: DfEE. DfES (Department for Education and Skills) (2003a) Every Child Matters. Cm5860. London: Stationery Office. ——(2003b) Time for Standards: Guidance Accompanying the Regulations Issued under the Education Act 2002. Nottingham: DfES. Dillow, C. (2010) Supporting Stories: Being a Teaching Assistant. Stoke-on-Trent: Trentham Books. Eden, R. (1879) The International Society of Workmen: What is It?, anglicanhistory.org/scotland/reden/ international1879.html (accessed 6 Feb 2011). Eyres, I., Cable, C., Hancock, R. and Turner, J. (2004) ‘“Whoops I forgot David”: Children’s perceptions of the adults who work in their classrooms’. Early Years 24(2): 149–62. Hancock, R. and Cable, C. (2001) What do They Bring to Classrooms Before They are Trained? Unpublished paper presented at BERA, Cardiff. Milton Keynes, UK: The Open University. Hancock, R., Hall, T., Cable, C. and Eyres, I. (2010) ‘“They call me wonder woman”: The job jurisdictions and workplace learning of higher level teaching assistants’. Cambridge Journal of Education 40(2): 97–112. Hancock, R. and Mansfield, M. (2002) ‘The literacy hour: A case for listening to children’. The Curriculum Journal 13(2): 183–200. Hancock, R., Swann, W., Marr, A. and Turner, J. (2001) Classroom Assistants in Primary Schools: Employment and Deployment. ESRC-funded project: R000237803. Milton Keynes: The Open University Faculty of Education and Language Studies. Merttens, R., Newland, A. and Webb, S. (1996) Learning in Tandem: Involving Parents in their Children’s Education. Leamington Spa: Scholastic. Neill, S.R. St J. (2002) Teaching Assistants: A Survey Analysed for the National Union of Teachers. Warwick: University of Warwick. Patterson, C. (2011) Care to be a Nurse? RSA ‘Four thought’ lecture, Broadcast on BBC Radio 4, 1 May. Sendorek, R.J. (2009) New Professionals in the Classroom? Higher Level Teaching Assistants in Primary Schools: from Policy to Practice. Unpublished PhD, University of London: Institute of Education.

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Section V

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Introduction to Section V Ted Cole, Harry, Daniels and John Visser

In Chapter 1, reference was made to the ecological legacy of Bronfenbrenner (1979) and his portrayal of the individual being wrapped in interacting layers of contextual circles. In this final section the focus is on further layers that are crucial elements in the child’s ecosystem. These are the family (whose help makes life so much easier for the teacher), and multi-agency support services (likewise so important to school-based staff). The section ends with consideration given to the key issue of supporting the well-being and developing the skills of the teachers and teaching assistants who work with the child with emotional and behavioural difficulties (EBD). Terje Ogden (Chapter 34), writing from a Norwegian perspective, highlights the effectiveness of multi-systemic intervention designed to develop parenting skills, and which addresses risk factors in the family and the child with EBD. Barrie O’Connor (Chapter 35), writes from Australia but describes the approaches used in a range of countries to make multi-agency, interdisciplinary working an effective reality. In the light of his long experience of helping to develop the skills of teachers in Quebec, Égide Royer writes about the knowledge that educators should have when working with children with EBD. He is concerned that such teachers can suffer from an overload of information and advocates focusing on certain key factors, which he outlines in Chapter 36. In a challenging conclusion to this Companion, Philip Garner (Chapter 37) regrets the nonstrategic approach in England and other countries to developing the skills of teachers in relation to pupils’ EBD. As happened in the UK in 2010, a change of government can precipitate the sidelining of enlightened and progressive approaches to developing teachers’ and other school professionals’ knowledge and skills, which have been of substantial benefit to pupils at the social margins, particularly those with EBD. This is clearly a regrettable situation which we trust will be rectified quickly.

Reference Bronfenbrenner, U. (1979) The Ecology of Human Development. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

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34 Working with parents and families to lessen the EBD of children and young people Terje Ogden

Parents are central in most contemporary efforts to reduce emotional and behavioral difficulties (EBD) in children. Behavioral parent training and family therapy are among the most well-established treatments of EBD in children and are typically provided as short-term outpatient services in child welfare or mental health services (Hoagwood et al. 2001; Ogden et al. 2009). Most of the approaches are based on social-ecological (Bronfenbrenner 1979) or social-learning theory (Bandura 1986; Patterson 1982) and address problems across environmental contexts like the home, the school and the local community. In this chapter, the parenting approach to working with children is represented by the Oregon model of parent management training (Forgatch and Patterson 2009), and the eco-systemic approach targeting adolescents is exemplified by multisystemic therapy (MST) (Henggeler et al. 2009). Both programs have been widely implemented and extensively evaluated in Norway during the last 10 years. These are not the only treatment programs that have proven to be effective, but they illustrate some of the underlying principles and procedures that several of the model programs have in common. They also demonstrate the need for a developmental perspective on family-based treatment of EBD.

A developmental perspective From a developmental perspective it makes sense that family-based treatment of children is less comprehensive and intensive than the treatments targeting adolescents. Children are usually very dependent and under the influence of their parents, but as they grow older they tend to spend more time away from home, and are much more influenced by their peers, teachers and other significant persons in their extended social network. Developmental changes occur, including maturation and changes in relations and interactions between children and parents. The amount of unsupervised contact with peers increases, and the young person both expects a more symmetrical relationship in terms of interpersonal dominance and develops a more critical attitude towards family rules. Still, the importance of the parents should not be underestimated, and the family continues to be the main locus of change also for older children (Henggeler et al. 2009). Even if adolescents want autonomy, few of them want total freedom or become emotionally detached from their parents (Eccles et al. 1993). Consequently, a developmental perspective on 306

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children and their context explains the gradual shift in emphasis from social learning processes in the family to transactions between the youth, their family and their wider social network.

Working with parents Working with parents in order to lessen the EBD of children and adolescents centers around the reduction of risk and the promotion of protective factors. The aim is to exchange harsh and dysfunctional parenting with positive parenting practices in order to reduce aversive and coercive interactions in the family. Some of the overarching aims of parenting programs are to increase parental warmth and responsiveness, increase the use of consistent limit-setting, increase the level of parent monitoring and decrease harsh or lenient parenting. The assumption is that improved parental skills will reduce the child’s aggression, and increase compliance as well as socially competent behavior. At the same time, the interventions usually include activities and components that might promote generalization of positive behavioral changes to the child-care environment or the school.

The theoretical foundation The dominating theories underpinning parenting interventions are models of social learning and social ecology. Most parenting programs can be traced back to the social cognitive theory of Bandura (1986) and the coercion theory that builds on the extensive research conducted by Gerald Patterson and his colleagues (Reid et al. 2002). Patterson’s (1982) theoretical model of social learning and social interaction (the SIL model) describes and explains how children at an early age learn to practice antisocial behavior in a reciprocal, coercive family process. The theory predicts that changes in child behavior depend on changes in parental reinforcement contingencies, for instance by giving more attention to positive behavior and ignoring or discouraging aversive behavior. Systems theory is not at odds with social learning theory, but emphasizes the many contexts in which the youth is embedded and the transactional nature of the relationship between these. According to Bronfenbrenner’s (1979) social ecological model, antisocial behavior is sustained by problematic transactions within or between social systems like the family, the school, peer groups, cultural institutions or the family’s environment (Henggeler et al. 2009). The family system is usually considered to be the most influential, even if interventions may target several systems, including the school and the peer group. Within the social-ecological perspective, risk and protective factors within the individual and in the local ecology might be identified in order to guide the development of intervention efforts (Ferrer-Wreder et al. 2004).

Treatment approaches Parents are considered the primary agents of change in most model programs, and interventions are typically delivered on a short-term basis. Treatment may be delivered in a group format, but treatment of individual families is considered the intervention of choice for families at socioeconomic disadvantage (Lundahl et al. 2006). Treatment might also address additional problems like parental mental health problems and drug abuse. The child may directly or indirectly be included in the sessions, depending on the format and goals of the treatment, and on the developmental stage of the child. Younger children are more often participating in the treatment sessions than older children (Kaminski et al. 2008). Parent management training comes in different versions, like Forehand and McMahon’s ‘Helping the non-compliant child’, Eyberg’s ‘Parent-Child Interaction Therapy’, Webster-Stratton’s ‘The Incredible Years’ and Sander’s ‘Triple-P Positive Parenting Program’. In the Oregon model of 307

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parent management training (PMTO), the aim is to enhance five groups of parenting skills: skills encouragement, monitoring, problem-solving, positive involvement, and limit-setting. Skill encouragement promotes competence through positive contingencies, monitoring protects children from involvement in risky activities and reflects parental tracking of their offspring. Problem-solving helps family members negotiate disagreements, establish house rules, and specify consequences for following or violating rules, and positive involvement reflects how parents demonstrate interest in, attention to and care for their child. Finally, effective discipline and limit-setting discourage deviant behavior through the appropriate and contingent use of mild sanctions, and provide the child with clear boundaries for acceptable behavior (Forgatch and Patterson 2009). A major challenge for PMTO and other parenting programs is to decrease harsh parenting, and some forms of punishment may even cause harm. Aversive consequences should therefore be contingent upon negative behavior, care should be taken to ensure that they really are reducing unwanted behavior and that they do not have unintended negative effects (Embry and Biglan 2008). In PMTO parents are trained in the five parenting dimensions, which also are practiced extensively during sessions through role play and problem-solving discussions. The positive parenting dimensions are introduced and practiced before the focus is turned to topics like monitoring, limit-setting and the use of moderate negative contingencies. During treatment, parents learn to change dysfunctional strategies that are non-contingent or contingent for the wrong behaviors. Even if PMTO is a program-based treatment, the interventions are flexible enough to meet the individual needs of each family. Moreover, the parents are given homework tasks, in which they may be asked to monitor their children’s whereabouts or keep track of prosocial behavior. Between sessions, parents often receive a midweek telephone call. Included in the training program is usually a PMTO handbook, which outlines the principles, procedures and core program components of the training (e.g. Askeland et al. 2005). Working with adolescents with EBD can be more challenging than working with children if new problems like drug use, violence, truancy and running away from home are added to the externalizing problems identified at an early age. Multisystemic therapy (MST) exemplifies the family- and community-based approach to the treatment of serious behavior problems among adolescents aged 13 to 17 years. In order to deliver a treatment that is short-term, comprehensive and intensive, the services are delivered by MST teams which usually consist of a supervisor (team leader) and three-to-four therapists, who each have the responsibility for three-to-six families on a 24-hours, seven-days-a-week basis. The interventions take place in the adolescent’s family and social network and typically goes on for about three-to-five months. Close collaboration with at least one of the primary caregivers is required, and efforts are made to establish good working relationship with local services. The parents or caregivers are considered to be the long-term change agents, and the therapists try to build a strong alliance in order to engage them in the treatment. Analyses are performed on how the EBD of the adolescent are functionally related to their context and how problems are maintained by problematic transactions. The family risk and protective factors are assessed and the aims of the treatment are formulated in collaboration with the family. An important aspect of MST is to show the families respect and view them as important partners in the treatment process. As a ‘treatment package’, MST integrates concepts from family therapy and parenting techniques like the use of contracting, and problem-focused interventions in the peer and school settings. After intake assessment, individual treatment plans are formulated with goals for the family and the youth. The clinical procedures typically include assessment of family functioning, family interventions, changing relations with peers, promoting academic and social competence in school settings, and individually oriented (mostly cognitive behavior modification) interventions. Systemic interventions are given priority over individual treatment. At termination of 308

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treatment, unsolved problems are expected, but the caregivers should be empowered to solve remaining as well as future problems on their own. According to the theoretical principles guiding MST, interventions should promote responsible behavior in adolescents and caregivers, they should be ‘here and now’ and action-focused on well-defined problems that require daily or weekly efforts by the family members. In addition, treatment should target behavior sequences within and between multiple systems, and be developmentally appropriate. Moreover, the treatment fidelity and outcomes of the interventions should be carefully monitored and evaluated on a regular basis in order to secure a steady progress towards treatment goals.

Research on program effectiveness Both MST and PMTO have a strong theoretical foundation and both have been validated through a string of controlled clinical outcome trials (Curtis et al. 2004; Eyberg et al. 2008). The treatment protocols of each of the programs describe the core intervention components, theoretical principles and procedures of the treatment (Askeland et al. 2005; Henggeler et al. 2009). The protocols have a positive function by contributing to the standardization of the treatments as well as to the training of therapists, and by using programs with explicit and predefined components, the treatment fidelity to the intervention might be measured on a regular basis. Lundahl et al. (2006) concluded in their meta-analysis of 69 behavioral programs that parent training was a robust intervention. The effect sizes were in the moderate range immediately following treatment, but smaller in magnitude up to one year following the completion of treatment. This finding was also substantiated in the Norwegian follow-up study of PMTO (Amlund-Hagen et al. 2011). On the other hand, the MST follow-up study indicated that the results were sustained, and for some outcome measures even improved, two years after intake (Ogden and AmlundHagen 2006). This is consistent with the theoretical assumption underlying MST that improved parent competence and additional contextual changes promote treatment generalization and long-term maintenance of therapeutic change. Most behavioral parenting programs have turned out to be effective in controlled trials (Kazdin 1997), and PMTO is described as ‘well-established’ treatment for antisocial behavior in metaanalyses like the one published by Eyberg et al. (2008). Although mostly developed in the USA, parenting programs also have a strong European evidence base supporting their effectiveness (Ferrer-Wreder et al. 2004). Still, there are several challenges to interventions targeting EBD in children and adolescents, one being the question of matching interventions to individual differences. The concept of multiple gating is important in order to secure that children with moderate problems are channeled into interventions that are less comprehensive and intensive than those developed for children with serious behavior problems. Some European effectiveness studies have faced recruitment problems due to lack of investment in the process of engaging families, and by having practitioners who lacked interpersonal skills to relate well to families who were reluctant to volunteer for participation in parenting programs. It has been particularly difficult to recruit families that are poor, educationally disadvantaged or from minority ethnic groups (Axford 2011). Another challenge is the modest sustainability of clinical outcomes in parenting programs. There is a considerable drop in effect sizes of most parenting programs from post-treatment to follow-up assessment. However, the convergence of treatment and control groups have a different meaning if it reflects the improvement by the control group to the level of the treatment group (as in the Norwegian PMTO study), rather than deterioration in the treatment group (Kazdin and Weisz 1998). Other findings have indicated that more is not necessarily better, and offering treatment to children as a supplement to basic parent training could change the parents’ perspective on the intervention. Rather than seeing themselves as the primary agent of change, 309

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they perceived the child as the owner of the problem and therefore the main treatment target (Kaminski et al. 2008; Lundahl et al. 2006). Even if parenting programs have demonstrated positive outcomes in a string of studies, they might have unintended consequences. In their qualitative study of a parenting program, Mockford and Barlow (2004) found that when only one parent participated in the parent training, increased conflict could occur at home because the other parent did not approve of the new parenting techniques. Some of the single participants also found it difficult to find time to parent together with their partners and integrate the new skills into their busy lives.

Matching interventions to the families’ needs and risk level Several variables may moderate the treatment effectiveness of parenting interventions, and research on moderators may help to identify subgroups for whom the intervention might be more or less effective. Every treatment model or program should clearly communicate intake criteria as well as exclusion criteria. The first indicate who the program is targeting and the second who should not be offered this kind of treatment. Several meta-analyses indicate that parent programs are less effective for economically disadvantaged families (Lundahl et al. 2006; Reyno and McGrath 2006), and these families are also more likely to decline participation in treatment and to drop out prior to completion. Economic deprivation might, of course, be a proxy for other vulnerabilities such as parent depression, lack of social support, and marital conflict, or a combination of these. Most of the referred studies were conducted in the USA, and European studies indicate that other moderators might be more important, like age and treatment integrity (Ogden and AmlundHagen 2008). Among the moderators identified in MST are adaptation of treatment to the individual needs and characteristics of families, and treatment fidelity (Curtis et al. 2004; Ogden and Halliday-Boykins 2004).

Key components and change mechanisms In parent training, parenting practices are the hypothesized mechanisms of change, and in MST improvements in youth behavior might be mediated through increased parental monitoring of the youth, improved family relationships, and reductions in deviant peer contact (Weersing and Weisz 2002). Two follow-up studies attempted to unpack the effects of the Oregon parenting model (Patterson and Forgatch 1995; Eddy and Chamberlain 2000) and one examined the change mechanisms in MST (Huey et al. 2000). In PMTO the observed parenting skills of discipline, monitoring and problem-solving at termination of treatment predicted youth arrests and out-ofhome placement two years after treatment in both the intervention and the comparison group (Patterson and Forgatch 1995). In the Norwegian PMTO study, two variables measured at posttreatment assessment mediated the effect of PMTO on the clinical outcomes at follow-up one year after termination. The mediators were the parents’ discipline or limit-setting and family cohesion (Amlund-Hagen et al. 2011). In MST, Huey et al. (2000) found that improved family function and greater cohesion were significantly associated with reductions in delinquency, and that improved functioning was reliably related to less association with deviant peers. In sum, few studies have actually analyzed change mechanisms in family-based treatment of conduct problems in children and youth, but those that have seem to end up with some of the same mediating variables. The first group of mediators are parenting skills, in which monitoring and discipline seem to be of particular importance. The second group relates to family functioning and centers around the concept of family cohesion, which also might be considered a proxy for positive parenting. The third mediator, which particularly seems to mediate the effect of treatment of adolescent behavior, is reduced association with deviant peers (Eddy and Chamberlain 2000). 310

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The way ahead Systematic reviews of interventions targeting EBD in youth highlight the effectiveness of family therapy and systemic interventions that integrate empirically supported interventions like behavioral parent training, and cognitive-behavioral treatments. As program evaluation has come of age, new analytical approaches are introduced in which core components that work across programs and change mechanisms that are common to several intervention models, are identified (Kaminski et al. 2008). Among the new approaches are the concept of ‘behavioral kernels’ (Embry and Biglan 2008) and ‘modularized interventions’ (Chorpita and Daleiden 2009). Evidence-based kernels are fundamental behavioral units that underlie effective prevention and treatment and involve mechanisms like reinforcement, altering antecedents or changing verbal relational responding (Embry and Biglan 2008). Kernels may increase behavior by reinforcement (e.g. praise), or decrease behavior by altering consequences (e.g. time-out or rewarding behavior incompatible with problem behavior). Modularized interventions or practice elements are discrete clinical strategies that are summarized in profiles and empirically matched to client factors like age and gender. The most common practices for oppositional/aggressive behavior appear to be praise, time-out, tangible rewards, commands, problemsolving, and differential reinforcement. For delinquency, the most common practices include problemsolving, tangible rewards, praise, monitoring, response cost and social skills training (Chorpita and Daleiden 2009). These modules allow for more flexible incorporation into interventions and may point to the future development of innovative ways of working with parents and families. Parent training differs from regular individual outpatient treatments offered to children with EBD in terms of focus (on the parent rather than the child), and content (working with family interaction and parenting skills rather than directly with child behavior). However, there are also differences in the treatment approaches when multi-systemic therapy is compared to parent management training. The differences are in terms of treatment location, intensity and dosage, focus and content. MST is mostly offered as a home-based rather than a clinic- or office-based treatment (location); it provides daily home visits and ‘round-the-clock’, seven-day availability rather than weekly sessions (intensity and dosage); and it focuses on youth and family in their wider social context rather than exclusively on the coercive family process (focus). Finally, MST applies theoretical principles and intervention components in order to change the youth’s ecology, as compared to parent skills training in order to change coercive family interactions (content) (Schoenwald and Hoagwood 2001). In other words, treatment of EBD in adolescents is usually more comprehensive, complex and intensive than treatment of children, but both approaches work with parents to reduce children’ problem behavior.

References Amlund-Hagen, K.A., Ogden, T. and Bjørnebekk, G. (2011) ‘Treatment outcomes and mediators of Parent Management Training: A one-year follow-up of children with conduct problems’. Journal of Clinical Child and Adolescent Psychology 40: 165–78. Askeland, E., Christiansen, T. and Solholm, R. (2005) PMTO håndbok. Oslo: Atferdssenteret, Unirand. Axford, N. (2011) SPR 2011: Laying the Parent Trap, preventionaction.org/specials/spr-2011-laying-parenttrap/5585. Bandura, A. (1986) Social Foundations of Thought and Action: A Social Cognitive Theory. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall. Bronfenbrenner, U. (1979) The Ecology of Human Development: Experiment by Nature and Design. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Chorpita, B.F. and Daleiden, E.L. (2009) ‘Mapping evidence-based treatments for children and adolescents: Application of the distillation and matching model for 615 treatments from 322 randomized trials’. Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 77: 566–79.

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Curtis, N.M., Ronan, K.R. and Borduin, C.M. (2004) ‘Multisystemic treatment: A meta-analysis of outcome studies’. Journal of Family Psychology 18: 411–19. Eccles, J.S., Midgley, C., Wigfield, A., Buchanan, C.M., Renman, D., Flanagan, C. and McIver, D. (1993) ‘Development during adolescence. The impact of stage-environment fit on young adolescents’ experiences in schools and families’. American Psychologist 48: 90–101. Eddy, J.M. and Chamberlain, P. (2000) ‘Family management and deviant peer association as mediators of the impact of treatment condition on youth antisocial behavior’. Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 68: 857–63. Embry, D.D. and Biglan, T. (2008) ‘Evidence-based kernels: Fundamental units of behavioral influence’. Clinical Child and Family Psychological Review 11: 75–113. Eyberg, S.H., Nelson, M.M. and Boggs, S.R. (2008) ‘Evidence-based psychosocial treatments for children and adolescents with disruptive behavior’. Journal of Clinical Child and Adolescent Psychology 37: 215–37. Ferrer-Wreder, L., Stattin, H., Lorente, C.C., Tubman, J.G. and Adamson, L. (2004) Successful Prevention and Youth Development Programs Across Borders. New York: Kluwer Academic. Forgatch, M. and Patterson, G.R. (2009) ‘The Oregon model of Parent Management Training (PMTO): An intervention for antisocial behavior in children and adolescents’. In J.R. Weisz and A.E. Kazdin (eds), Evidence-based Psychotherapies for Children and Adolescents, second edn. New York: Guilford. Henggeler, S.W., Schoenwald, S.K., Borduin, C.M., Rowland, M.D. and Cunningham, P.B. (2009) Multisystemic Treatment of Antisocial Behaviour in Children and Adolescents, second edition. New York: The Guilford Press. Hoagwood, K., Burns, B.J., Kiser, L., Ringeisen, H. and Schoenwald, S.K. (2001) ‘Evidence-based practice in child and adolescent mental health services’. Psychiatric Services 52: 1179–89. Huey, S.J. Jr, Henggeler, S.W., Brondino, M.J. and Pickrel, S.G. (2000) ‘Mechanisms of change in multisystemic therapy: Reducing delinquent behavior through therapist adherence and improved family and peer functioning’. Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 68: 451–67. Kaminski, J.W., Valle, L.A., Filene, J.H. and Boyle, C.L. (2008) ‘A meta-analytic review of components associated with parent training program effectiveness’. Journal of Abnormal Child Psychology 36: 567–89. Kazdin, A.E. (1997) ‘Practitioner review: Psychosocial treatments for conduct disorder in children’. Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry 38: 161–70. Kazdin, A. and Weisz, J.R. (1998) ‘Identifying and developing empirically supported child and adolescent treatments’. Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 66: 19–36. Lundahl, B., Risser, H.J. and Lovejoy, M.C. (2006) ‘A meta-analysis of parent training: Moderators and follow-up effects’. Clinical Psychology Review 26: 86–104. Mockford, C. and Barlow, J. (2004) ‘Parenting programmes: some unintended consequences’. Primary Health Care Research and Development 5: 219–27. Ogden, T. and Amlund-Hagen, K. (2006) ‘Multisystemic treatment of serious behaviour problems in youth: Sustainability of effectiveness two years after intake’. Child and Adolescent Mental Health 11: 142–49. ——(2008) ‘Treatment effectiveness of Parent Management Training in Norway: A randomized controlled trial of children with conduct problems’. Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 76: 607–21. Ogden, T., Amlund-Hagen, K., Askeland, E. and Christensen, B. (2009) ‘Implementing and evaluating evidence-based treatments of conduct problems in children and youth in Norway’. Research on Social Work Practice 19: 582–91. Ogden, T. and Halliday-Boykins, C.A. (2004) ‘Multisystemic treatment of antisocial adolescents in Norway: Replication of clinical outcomes outside of the US’. Child and Adolescent Mental Health 9: 76–82. Patterson, G.R. (1982) Coercive Family Process. Eugene, OR: Castalia. Patterson, G.R. and Forgatch, M.S. (1995) ‘Predicting future clinical adjustment from treatment outcomes and process variables’. Psychological Assessment 7: 275–85. Reid, J.B., Patterson, G.R. and Snyder, J. (2002) Antisocial Behavior in Children and Adolescents: Developmental Theories and Models for Intervention. Washington, DC: American Psychological Association. Reyno, S.M. and McGrath, P.J. (2006) ‘Predictors of parent training efficacy for child externalizing behaviour problems – a meta-analytic review’. Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry 47: 99–111. Schoenwald, S. and Hoagwood, K. (2001) ‘Effectiveness, transportability, and dissemination of interventions: What matters when?’ Psychiatric Services 52: 1190–7. Weersing, V.R. and Weisz, J.R. (2002) ‘Mechanisms of action in youth psychotherapy’. Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry 43: 3–29.

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35 Multi-agency working with children with EBD and their families Barrie A. O’Connor

Multi-agency working with young people with emotional and behavioural difficulties (EBD) and their families aims to coordinate and, where appropriate, co-locate the resources of multi-disciplinary professionals and service agencies to address complex educational, social and health concerns. This approach seeks to address such shortcomings as ‘siloing’ professional expertise and services in discrete organizational units, interagency frictions, and serious delays, gaps and overlaps in service responses. It was considered ‘essential for delivering co-ordinated services to particular groups of children’ (Salmon and Kirby 2008: 107) and built upon long-standing ‘inter-professional and inter-agency working’ policies in the UK (Reynolds 2007: 442).

Multi-agency policy Well-publicized examples in the UK revealing the apparent lack of service coordination that led to the death of minors (Horwath and Morrison 2007) provided stark reminders that shortcomings in professional and systemic practices were not being adequately addressed. Among initiatives to streamline multi-agency services, governments created national service frameworks (NSF) in England (DoH 2004) and Wales (Welsh Assembly Government 2005). The NSF in England proposed that ‘children and young people and families receive high quality services which are coordinated around their individual and family needs and take account of their views’ (DoH 2004: 15), a sentiment reflected in the Wales NSF to place ‘children and their families at the centre of service delivery’ (Welsh Assembly Government 2005: 4). The Scottish Executive (2005, as cited in Huddart 2007: 421–2) sought ‘inclusive mainstream services, improved targeting of resources, better working together by agencies and “one door” approaches’ to enhance service access. In addition, child and adolescent mental health services (CAMHS) were organised in four tiers, providing graduated levels of intervention in more complex cases (Welsh Assembly Government 2005: 33). The Access to Services Standards included emphasis on staff ability to ‘develop and deliver multi-agency universal and selected programmes for promoting mental health and psychological well being’, and ensuring referral to other agencies as appropriate (Welsh Assembly Government 2005: 35). It also addressed protocols for referral feedback and redirection, with urgent cases requiring rapid turn-around of assessment and feedback, yet delays in this area continued (e.g. Tettenborn et al. 2008). 313

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Multi-agency frameworks School-based initiatives Schools are viewed as natural locations for collaboration, particularly by locating primary mental health workers (Huddart 2007) and mental health programmes (Salmon and Kirby 2008) to be close to young people with EBD, their teachers and families. Huddart evaluated a Scottish project that placed primary mental health workers in secondary schools to help develop more effective links between school and home, and create bridges into wider community support settings. This approach was seen to have several advantages: less stigmatising for children and families, more cost-efficient, and helping teachers better understand young people’s mental health. Importantly, the school sought to address rather than export behavioural difficulties by creating adjustments in conjunction with closely linked specialists. Huddart found that it was the frequency of contact with the school- or community-based mental health workers, rather than co-location of services, that appeared to be associated with improved staff knowledge and skills. White and Featherstone (as cited in Reynolds 2007) also found that co-location of professionals did not necessarily lead to better communication. Situating drop-in services in schools also eased access for young people and families. Although one link worker noted a difference in motivation between students who self-referred or for whom an appointment was made by education staff, another suggested the latter approach did enable the student to be seen by the service. The competing imperatives of professionals encouraging student agency and fulfilling duty of care are important to address (Ungar 2005).

Referral and assessment Referral pathways reported by Salmon et al. (2006) in Wales inclusively linked the child, family and school/Local Education Authority with other agencies providing graduated levels and complexity of interventions as needed, for example, by CAMHS or a paediatrician, as outlined in the four-tier intervention model (Welsh Assembly Government 2005). They sought to create greater collaboration across multi-professional and multi-agency contexts to avoid children being assessed ‘through a labeling route’ rather than holistically (Salmon et al. 2006: 67). Children’s behaviour in school and family settings was used as a starting point, in contrast to separate medical and educational assessments, each typically having different goals (e.g. diagnosis and labelling vs. educational intervention), and using different methods. Staging the intervention ensured only the more severe cases accessed scarce specialist resources. Audit processes were used to review and refine referral pathways. Being inclusive with parents helped build their trust with agencies and professionals. In contrast, a Belgian study by Janssens et al. (2010) identified difficulties with interagency referrals. Some psychiatrists were concerned that welfare services often passed difficult and complex cases around, delaying referral for psychiatric assessment and treatment as a last resort. However, some welfare services staff did suggest having psychiatric consultation on-site to expedite diagnosis. Even though welfare services could offer the continuity of care not available in psychiatric settings after treatment, psychiatrists wanting to refer felt thwarted by welfare service backlogs. The limited nature of both collaboration and ongoing support was identified as jeopardising continuity of support across the services. Structural boundaries in funding also impacted these initiatives. Tettenborn et al. (2008) reported the findings of a nationwide survey on the diagnosis and assessment of children and adolescents with attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) at 314

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13 paediatric sites and three child psychiatry sites in the UK. They noted that parent interviews, school reports and teacher questions were routinely included to assist in diagnosis, and all but one site used child interviews. They found wide differences in the wait times between referral and initial appointment, depending on case priority. Delays were attributed in part to the larger number of assessment tools used by psychiatrists compared with paediatricians. Reviewing interagency systems more broadly, Glenny (2005) found that lengthy assessment processes could also compromise time available for therapeutic intervention. Tettenborn et al. (2008) argued the importance of having services integrated and joined up to ensure that patients’ holistic needs are met, a view supported by Bruns et al. (2006) and Salmon et al. (2006).

Wraparound services In the USA, wraparound services (Franz 2003) not only have a strong child and family focus, but also engage other systems and stakeholders to improve outcomes by strengthening a family’s ties to the community and improving ‘a community’s capacity to care for its most challenged families’ (Bruns et al. 2006: 210). The needs, preferences and strengths of families are highlighted in multidimensional planning, particularly establishing a circle of natural family and community supports complemented by culturally competent, family-focused professional and multi-agency teams. The informal circle of care group gradually takes on more responsibility under the guidance of professionals. Financial flexibility created by pooling resources usually siloed in different government service agency funds, and redirecting them to the new model is a major advantage. In this way, Wraparound Milwaukee purchased services and supports tailored to each family’s unique needs (Franz 2003) from a network of existing lead agencies that developed integrated child and family teams to create comprehensive care plans addressing critical areas of need across a family’s life domains. Keeping young people connected or helping them reconnect to their local community was a vital feature of the programme. It produced dramatic outcomes in a five-year span. Declines occurred in use of residential treatment, inpatient psychiatric hospitalisation (by 80 per cent), and average cost of care. In contrast, the number of youths supported in the community almost doubled, using the same fixed child welfare and juvenile justice funds previously applied to residential treatment. Recidivism for delinquent youth also declined (Kamradt, as cited in Franz 2003: 247). In a pilot study of wraparound services in Nevada (Bruns et al. 2006: 207), improved outcomes for students with mental health issues were demonstrated on two markers, residential status and functioning. A higher proportion of young people in wraparound services moved from state custody to less restrictive environments (e.g. living with family members), although a higher proportion of those without such services moved to more restrictive settings. The functional impact of mental health problems on young people lessened for those in wraparound services, and school performance measures of attendance, disciplinary actions, and grade point averages all improved.

Multi-agency work challenges Professionals, too, face additional challenges in negotiating multiple relationships across agency and professional boundaries (Conway 2009). Some of the complex dynamics that arise in working together for young people with EBD and their families are examined with particular reference to services for looked-after children as a case example. Trust in service relationships and unintended impacts of policy are also explored. 315

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Casework complexity In difficult and complex circumstances, some children may be placed in the care of other family members, foster families, or in residential facilities. They are referred to as ‘looked after’ children in the UK to emphasize the responsibility that society and government has to ensure that they receive appropriate care and services. In 2010 there were 64,400 looked after children in England (DfE 2010). These numbers are highly fluid: while 27,800 ceased being looked after, another 25,100 commenced in the same year. The most frequent reason for coming to notice was abuse and neglect (52 per cent). Most of the children (70 per cent) were in foster placement (DfE 2010). While not all are children with EBD, many nonetheless are vulnerable and especially may be seen by a plethora of agencies and professionals (Conway 2009). Although government aspirations for looked after children in England include both improved educational attainment and placement stability (DoH 2003, as cited in Conway 2009), the recent history does not match those goals. Among concerns reported in various studies cited by Kelly et al. (2003: 323–4) were the high levels of psychiatric disorders among adolescents in residential units and foster care, up to two-year delays for assessment and treatment, and a large proportion of young people on leaving treatment reporting that they found the CAMHS service unhelpful. In developing a multi-agency CAMHS strategy to improve interagency collaboration, Kelly et al. (2003) highlighted the complexities confronting service delivery for children with not only mental health issues, but also additional impairments and offending behaviours. While care arrangements had to address needs permeating all of their life domains, agency remits were too narrow to address them all. ‘There had been repeated disagreements about which agency was responsible for providing appropriative services and further conflict over financial responsibility’ (Kelly et al. 2003: 325). To address these issues, Kelly et al. (2003) created individual packages of care and treatment for delivery by partner agencies, similar to some features of the wraparound model (Franz 2003). All children were allocated a social worker, and both the young person and parents/carers participated in multi-agency network meetings. A teacher, designated for looked after children, was identified at the young person’s local school. According to Kelly et al. (2003: 333), many of the looked after children referred to their team had ‘histories of appalling neglect and abuse with associated disrupted attachment relationships’. Conway (2009) argued that professionals and carers sometimes misunderstand the complex behaviour of such children. She suggested that it is often characterized by two factors: splitting— dividing ‘the world and the people in it into separate and often hostile groups or states of mind’; and projection—filling ‘people up with very powerful communications and feelings that can feel unbearable’ (Conway 2009: 23; see also, Chapter 12, this volume). She reflected that similar intense dynamics can also appear in service provider interactions, citing the example of a case conference that fractured as professionals from different agencies disagreed vehemently about the appropriateness of actions suggested for the child and his family. Under Conway’s guidance, the participants stepped back and reflected on the intensity of their exchange. Conway suggested that professionals and carers should understand such dynamics, which can create a circular effect if unresolved; disturbance in the child impacts or is mirrored in the system, which further impacts the child.

Service relationships Trust among members is the most fundamental of group dynamics underpinning teamwork and collaboration. Horwath and Morrison (2007) noted this as a particular focus in public inquiries into child deaths and interagency shortcomings. They observed that members of agency partnerships 316

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rarely had time to build trust, especially in settings with high staff turnovers, inward-looking goal setting, and competing interests. Reynolds (2007: 454) reported additional complexity in interagency and inter-professional relationships: ‘atrocity stories’ and ‘contrastive rhetoric’ used by professionals to privilege their own positive identity often lead to ‘othering’ those with whom they disagreed. She suggested that interprofessional education could challenge ‘professional rituals and stories’ to enhance openness and collaboration (Reynolds 2007: 455). Horwath and Morrison (2007: 65) emphasised that establishing collaborative structures alone does not produce effective outcomes; rather ‘nurturing relationships and building trusted networks becomes imperative’, features also identified by Huddart (2007) and Salmon et al. (2006). However, when young people and families experience a contradiction between professionals being supportive while also exercising oversight of their activities (Crawford and Simonoff 2003), trusting relationships can be seriously impaired. This dilemma also faces practitioners whose obligations extend beyond the child and the family to different service agencies, their professional ethics and even to the law. A current Australian study led by Chenoweth (Jervis-Tracey et al. 2010) is exploring tensions that doctors, nurses, social workers, teachers and police may find in undertaking their duties in rural communities. The ethical dilemmas inherent in their dual role of providing support to children and families while living among them, and at the same time discharging their statutory responsibilities (e.g. reporting child abuse) can be stressful for all parties.

Unintended policy consequences In spite of the best aims of policy-makers, service agencies and professionals, unintended consequences can arise in practice. For example, Burton et al. (2009) identified tensions in schools facing the threat of Local Authority fines for excluding students with EBD, as principals weighed up the needs of the student and family against the pressures on staff and availability of multi-agency services. Glenny (2005: 168) captured this type of dilemma in her analysis of factors leading to systemic failure, citing ‘disincentives for inclusive practice’ when tensions arise ‘between the imperative to define individual need created by the funding mechanism and policies to provide inclusive contexts for children’. She reported parents missing appointments because they could not afford transport or child-care costs, indicating that flexible funding was required to individualize service responses. Devaney and Spratt (2009) illustrated similar shortcomings in UK child abuse policy, which mainly targeted short-term actions (e.g. removal of children from immediate harm). They argued that longer-term solutions were more likely to address children’s ongoing needs arising from abuse. Identifying structural factors that inhibit child and family access to services creates opportunities to locate systemic deficiencies (e.g. misdirected referrals, lengthy delays, unmet needs, segmented funding), and develop solutions (e.g. streamlined referrals, services tiered by level of need, funding flexibility, accessible service points). Without redress, these issues continue to undermine the efficacy of multi-agency initiatives.

Families and young people Parent views Much of the literature on multi-agency work with children with EBD and their families/carers emphasises practitioner perspectives on the nature of operations rather than the views and experiences of parents. However, three studies reported here reflect family voice and experiences. 317

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The North Perth project (Illsley and Redford 2005) emerged from a Scottish government initiative to create greater community involvement in schools. The project was proactive in forging connections among parents, schools and agencies before problems arose. Parents were encouraged to join informal drop-in coffee sessions or personal development and accredited learning activities. They reported gaining confidence not only in themselves and the school environment, which many once feared, but also in relating with teachers and service providers. Multiagency team members were considered approachable, respectful and non-judgemental, taking time to chat and not just focus on problems. Parents often sought their support when speaking with school staff. The authors noted: ‘resources were flexibly developed around needs, support networks for families were created and access to other services was relatively seamless’ (Illsley and Redford 2005: 164). The trust that had been built over time gave them confidence to deal with professionals when issues arose for their children. Crawford and Simonoff (2003) asked parents about experiences with education, health and social services for them and their children who attended schools for students with EBD in three south London boroughs. Parents identified both structural and financial inhibitors, such as lack of child-care and after-school/holiday care services employing staff skilled to manage their children. Because this stopped many mothers from working, their sense of isolation and financial stress was further exacerbated. Three major findings emerged from a Canadian study by De Boer et al. (2007: 11) seeking the views of parents and siblings of children in residential mental health settings: ‘the importance of respite’, ‘feeling welcomed and understood’ and ‘improved personal and family functioning’. Many reported feeling immense relief that finally an agency was prepared to understand their needs and treat them with respect in a caring and non-judgemental manner, and give them an opportunity to re-establish quality home life.

Young people’s voices and agency As young people are the expected beneficiaries of service efforts, understanding their experiences and hearing their views are critical, not only to inform service improvement but also to appreciate the competence they possess in dealing with their circumstances. Two studies offer some useful insights into how young people with EBD make sense of their world within service settings. Blower et al. (2004) interviewed looked after young people with mental health issues who were accommodated in foster care, children’s homes and residential schools in Scotland. One aspect of the study addressed their sense of self-agency. The young people generally considered that they had responsibility for success or failure in their lives in spite of the negativity of past experiences; they were anxious about their placements, sensing that security was dependent on their own efforts and behaviour; and they felt left out of important decisions, wanting to contribute more in care planning. Other findings indicated mixed feelings about: their placement, wanting carers to know enough to meet their needs but also wanting to keep some privacy; the protectiveness offered by care, counterbalanced by their added vulnerability to risks. Importantly, the study revealed that these young people displayed help-seeking behaviours to address their emotional support needs, with peer relationships being an important contributor. In Canada, Ungar (2005) explored how at-risk and resilient young people navigated and negotiated for services in child welfare, corrections, mental health and education. He argued that resilience involves a combination of their individual capacities and ‘the structural conditions, relationships and access to social justice’ that they experience (Ungar 2005: 446). A study by Jackson and Martin (as cited in Ungar 2005) highlighted the importance of children in care 318

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remaining attached to school. Those who did so typically were higher achievers and tended to show internal locus of control, which underpins motivation to succeed. Ungar (2005), like others (Crawford and Simonoff 2003; Glenny 2005), noted the conflict that can exist between service agency and service user interests. Systems meant to serve and help children return to their natural communities often work against children’s interests to protect the integrity of the system boundaries, which leads to children being trapped in services. Tausig (as cited in Ungar 2005: 452) reported findings from a study of 45 mental health services directors, which revealed three typical network gaps in their services: ‘unpatterned’ (expected relationships did not exist); ‘absent’ (non-existent linkages between system sectors); and ‘conflicted’ (problems in making system links). Ungar argued that although clients show agency in finding services where no links exist, they are typically not accorded equal partner roles. He cited studies showing that even when the views of consumers were sought, they reported not only receiving unintended services but also facing reluctance from service providers to meet inexpensive services, such as access to recreational pursuits. Table 35.1 Ungar’s six principles of service navigation and negotiation Principle

Explanation

Aids to service navigation 1 Community reach

Service systems as an extension of the community, which holds the power and resources to assist children and families by enabling them to make choices that they are likely to follow vs. service professionals used to doing things to service users and most likely create resistance

2 One-stop shopping

Services clustered though expedient associations and alliances as a single-door option are easier to navigate and more closely reflect the integrated nature of people’s lives vs. single services that partialize supports

3 A door back in

Services organized to create fluid arrangements enabling children to access support along a flexible continuum, and to make smooth transitions back into the community vs. being trapped in more rigid service provisions

Successful negotiation 4 Less is more

Fewer professionals in child’s life usually achieve more gains by knowing child’s needs better, advocating for him and providing service continuity vs. many helpers spread across a plethora of siloed services, each with limited opportunity to relate genuinely to children and families, who continually retell their story with diminished prospect of productive outcomes

5 Unknown but not unknowable

Human service workers detaching from their own cultural ways of knowing and serving by taking on the unique perspectives of children and their families. They become genuinely engaged in allowing their clients to negotiate ‘for an identity and for health resources that suit them best’

6 Something to shout about

Children who are resilient and successfully negotiate service systems are seen to ‘experience the power that comes with control over the labels that Velcro to them’. Services enabling children to show their uniqueness, competence and talent, and that value these, can support pathways to socially acceptable behaviour in young adults

Source: (Adapted from Ungar 2005)

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Ungar (2005: 453–8) proposed six principles to assist children in navigating and negotiating prevention and treatment services, which are summarized in Table 35.1. The principles resonate with the goals of wraparound services. The first three principles on service navigation emphasize connectedness with communities and integrated responses to the unique circumstances of each young person. The final three principles on successful negotiation highlight the importance of fewer professionals working flexibly to build trust with the young person and family, enabling them to negotiate resources that best suit their needs, and valuing their uniqueness and competence. He emphasized greater flexibility by inverting the dominance of responsibility from professionals to children and families who may, with assistance as necessary, chart pathways of support tailored to their unique circumstances. Ungar (2005) challenges professionals and agencies to acknowledge and stand back from their own unique perspectives and take on those of young people with EBD and their families, to help them find voice and agency in creating unique service responses that address their particular needs.

Conclusion In response to systemic shortcomings that have often failed to protect the most vulnerable in society, governments have sought to shape directions for improving the ways that service agencies and practitioners do their work. Some strengths and shortcomings of multi-agency frameworks operating in schools, in mental health service settings, and in out of home care placements were explored. Challenges to multi-agency work arising from complex cases, broken trust in relationships between agencies and families, and unintended policy outcomes were identified. While the voices of families and children with EBD appear somewhat muted, valuing the unique needs of families and working with young people’s competence by recognizing their agency in navigating complex service systems were identified as productive avenues to follow.

References Blower, A., Addo, A., Hodgson, J., Lamington, L. and Towlson, K. (2004) ‘Mental health of “looked after” children: A needs assessment’. Clinical Child Psychology and Psychiatry 9(1): 117–29. Bruns, E.J., Rast, J., Peterson, C., Walker, J. and Bosworth, J. (2006) ‘Spreadsheets, service providers, and the Statehouse: Using data and wraparound process to reform systems for children and families’. American Journal of Community Psychology 38: 201–12. Burton, D.M., Bartlett, S.J. and Anderson de Cuevas, R. (2009) ‘Are the contradictions and tensions that have characterised educational provision for young people with behavioural, emotional and social difficulties a persistent feature of current policy?’ Emotional & Behavioral Difficulties 14(2): 141–55. Conway, P. (2009) ‘Falling between minds: The effects of unbearable experiences on multi-agency communication in the care system’. Adoption & Fostering 33(1): 18–29. Crawford, T. and Simonoff, E. (2003) ‘Parental views about services for children attending schools for the emotionally and behaviourally disturbed (EBD): a qualitative analysis’. Child: Care, Health & Development 29(6): 481–91. de Boer, C., Cameron, G. and Frensch, K. (2007) ‘Siege and response: Reception and benefits of residential children’s mental health services for parents and siblings’. Child Youth Care Forum 36: 11–24. Devaney, J. and Spratt, T. (2009) ‘Child abuse as a complex and wicked problem: Reflecting on policy developments in the United Kingdom in working with children and families with multiple problems’. Children and Youth Services Review 31: 635–41. DfE (Department for Education) (2010) Children Looked After by Local Authorities in England (Including Adoption and Care Leavers) – Year Ending 31 March 2010, www.education.gov.uk/rsgateway/DB/SFR/ s000960/index.shtml. DoH (Department of Health) (2004) National Service Frameworks for Children, Young People and Maternity Services. London: Author. 320

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Franz, J.P. (2003) ‘“No more Clarences”: Creating a consistent and functional multisystem resource for children with complex needs and their families’. Journal of Disability Policy Studies 13(4): 244–53. Glenny, G. (2005) ‘Riding the dragon: developing inter-agency systems for supporting children’. Support for Learning 20(4): 167–75. Horwath, J. and Morrison, T. (2007) ‘Collaboration, integration and change in children’s services: Critical issues and key ingredients’. Child Abuse & Neglect 31: 55–69. Huddart, P. (2007) ‘“Joined on rather than joined up?” Primary mental health work in Scottish schools’. Health Education 107(5): 421–36. Illsley, P. and Redford, M. (2005) ‘“Drop in for coffee”: Working with parents in North Perth New Community Schools’. Support for Learning 20(4): 162–66. Janssens, A., Peremans, L. and Deboutte, D. (2010) ‘Conceptualizing collaboration between children’s services and child and adolescent psychiatry: A bottom-up process based on a qualitative needs assessment among the professionals’. Clinical Child Psychology and Psychiatry 15(2): 251–66. Jervis-Tracey, P., Chenoweth, L., McAuliffe, D., O’Connor, B. and Stehlik, D. (2010) Managing Tensions in Professional Statutory Practice: Essential Research for Living and Working in Rural Communities. Paper presented September, at the 26th Society for Provision of Education in Rural Australia (SPERA), Sunshine Coast, Queensland. Kelly, C., Allan, S., Roscoe, P. and Herrick, E. (2003) ‘The mental health needs of looked after children: An integrated multi-agency model of care’. Clinical Child Psychology and Psychiatry 8(3): 323–35. Reynolds, J. (2007) ‘Discourses of inter-professionalism’. British Journal of Social Work 37: 441–57. Salmon, G., Cleave, H. and Samuel, C. (2006) ‘Development of multi-agency referral pathways for attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder, developmental coordination disorder and autistic spectrum disorders: Reflections on the process and suggestions for new ways of working’. Clinical Child Psychology and Psychiatry 11(1): 63–81. Salmon, G. and Kirby, A. (2008) ‘Schools: Central to providing comprehensive CAMH services in the future?’ Child and Adolescent Mental Health 13(3): 107–14. Tettenborn, M., Prasad, S., Poole, L., Steer, C., Coghill, D., Harpin, V. et al. (2008) ‘The provision and nature of ADHD services for children/adolescents in the UK: Results from a nationwide survey’. Child Clinical Psychology and Psychiatry 13(2): 287–304. Ungar, M. (2005) ‘Resilience among children in child welfare, corrections, mental health and educational settings: Recommendations for service’. Child and Youth Care Forum 34(6): 445–64. Welsh Assembly Government (2005) National Service Frameworks. Cardiff: Author.

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36 Training and professional development for educators working with children and young people with EBD A personal checklist for educators Égide Royer

Introduction Even though the behaviour problems of some of their students are an everyday concern for many teachers, most of them have received only limited training in how to prevent and to deal with these situations (Royer 2006a). Research-based ‘best practices’ show that some interventions are more effective than others. However, knowledge of this practice has only been partially used in daily life in schools (Royer 2010, 2004) where educators often adopt and maintain punitive approaches which only exacerbate the achievement and adaptation problems of students with emotional and behavioural difficulties (EBD). These educators frequently find themselves stressed and sometimes exhausted (Royer 2009). In such a situation, there is no benefit in subjecting them to ‘cognitive overload’ by requiring them to absorb an excess of information. It would be better to focus the thinking of educators, teachers or policy-makers rapidly on the most important issues (Morgeson et al. 1999). As suggested by Gladwell (2005), the word ‘frugality’ describes this ability to identify the main patterns and most important variables of a complex situation. When making important decisions on the education of children and youth with EBD, it is also proposed that an elegant parsimony may be appropriate regarding our use of relevant research-based knowledge.

Key components of essential ‘frugal’ knowledge about EBD and schooling Key component 1: prevention and early interventions should be top priorities The need to intervene early to prevent serious maladaptation and behaviour problems has long been recognised by preschool and elementary school teachers (Storey et al. 1994). Yet intervening early 322

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in a determined manner to prevent the onset of substantial EBD in a child, with its accompanying aggravation for staff and peers, has yet to become the normal, reflexive response. In fact, given the few resources invested, calls for prevention can be compared to a form of incantation, a kind of magic formula recited to obtain a supernatural effect (Royer 2006b). As described by Kauffman (2010, 1999), what we really often succeed in preventing is prevention itself: waiting until the problem is chronic and until effective intervention is impossible in a regular class, or until the usual specialized services of a mainstream school are no longer sufficient (Hester and Kaiser 1998). All adults working in schools should be aware that the knowledge on conducting systematic screenings of young children with early behaviour problems is available (Caldarella et al. 2008; Gresham et al. 2000; Lane et al. 2009). Prevention and intervention programmes have also been developed and evaluated and could be successfully implemented early in the education of children with EBD (Beard and Sugai 2004; Harris et al. 2009; Lovering et al. 2006).

Key component 2: reading and behaviour problems are frequently concomitant Students with reading difficulties at the end of the first year of formal schooling (aged six) do not usually possess an average level of reading skills by the end of primary school (Torgesen 2004). The majority of struggling readers remain poor readers, even when they receive help (Juel 1988). A very important relationship exists between these difficulties and behaviour problems. For example, a study in special EBD schools reported that 50 per cent of the students exhibit reading problems (Mattison 2008). Among young people at risk of emotional and behavioural problems, boys are more likely than girls to possess very low reading skills. Some studies even indicate that boys appear to respond less well to usually effective interventions (Al Otaiba and Fuchs 2002; Nelson et al. 2003). In their longitudinal study, Royer (2008) and his colleagues also found that students with behavioural problems at the beginning of secondary school were clearly less well prepared to succeed and showed, not surprisingly, a high failure rate (Nelson et al. 2004; Nelson et al. 2006). All educators should know that the best practices for reading problem remediation are well documented (Brodeur et al. 2008) and that prevention activities for reading and behaviour should be used concurrently, thus improving the response of students with EBD to remedial interventions (Nelson et al. 2008).

Key component 3: boys, behaviour problems and language Important gender differences exist in special education. In Québec, for example, 69.3 per cent of all special education students are boys, the ratio of boys to girls for EBD being, on average, three to one (Ministère de l’éducation, du loisir et du sport 2008). The biggest difference remains in the manifestation of aggressive behaviour and early language development. Boys are more involved in fights, use more aggressive language, are more likely to be punished by teachers (Callahan 1994), and are more often considered in need of specialised services for their behaviour (Sciutto et al. 2004). A review of scientific literature (Benner et al. 2002) also indicates that a majority of students with emotional or behavioural problems (mostly boys) show early language deficits that have a direct impact on their academic learning. It is estimated that nearly 90 per cent of primary youth with behavioural problems have expressive, receptive, and pragmatic language deficits (Tommerdahl 2009; see also Chapter 17, this volume). Not surprisingly, a majority of students with EBD in secondary school have shown early deficits in language that have had an impact on their academic learning (Nelson et al. 2003). 323

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Key component 4: inclusion, natural balance/proportion, and special classes Even if supported by assistants in their classroom (Giangreco et al. 2005), many regular class teachers consider that a specialized environment is necessary for most students who have EBD. It is often overlooked that in many school systems, the natural balance and proportions of types of children in a regular class have been upset. In Canada, and probably other countries, the selection made by private schools causes a regrouping of the best performing students in the same classes. The so-called ‘ordinary’ classes become increasingly difficult to manage, for as many as one-third of their members may present learning and behaviour problems. As these children progress through the school system their needs become increasingly difficult to meet in a regular school environment and specialised classes or schools become, for many educators, the solution. What should be clear to all educators is that a specialised class is a form of educational service of primary importance. Nevertheless, it should be considered as a placement option only insofar as the regular classroom, despite the implementation of the measures reflecting the best practices in education, cannot meet the educational needs of a troubled youth. Educators should be aware that peer aggregation in special classrooms can lead to an aggravation of maladaptive behaviours (Lipsey 1992; for discussion of the iatrogenic effects, see Dishion et al. 1999). The association with deviant peers, especially in early adolescence, is recognised as being connected directly to the development and intensification of problematic behaviour (Hartup 1996). Friendships based on social deviance provide an opportunity for problem behaviours to escalate, particularly when these behaviours are reinforced as being socially appropriate. Deviant adolescents can come to serve each other as models. At the start of each personal education plan for a youth attending an EBD special class should be a reintegration plan. Educators must clearly identify the skills, behaviours and academic learning that the student must acquire and develop to be successful in a mainstream environment. The special class must offer students with EBD a safe and predictable environment where high expectations for learning are communicated by teachers and the development of social competence is an important goal.

Key component 5: initial and in-service training matter The author (Royer 2006b), referring to the poor initial training of teachers in responding to behaviour problems, has described what he termed ‘the Nero Syndrome’. This refers to the situation of a teacher—in this case, male—observing his class being completely disrupted and disorganized by a few out-of-control pupils. Remembering his initial teacher training, the teacher caught himself thinking of the Roman Emperor Nero playing music while Rome was being destroyed by fire, and saying to himself: ‘While Rome is burning, what is the point of giving us so many courses on how to play the lyre?’ The point is that teachers commonly find themselves in difficulties because they have not received relevant, focused training on preventing and coping with behaviour problems in class. Important changes should be made with respect to university and other teacher training programmes on how to teach students with EBD. However, the most pressing action is providing quality in-service training for all teachers. As part of an interesting study, Parent and his colleagues (Parent et al. 1997) interviewed teachers on their needs in terms of continuing education. It appears from this study that teachers want to be provided with training that focuses on their needs, starting from their experiences, and to develop skills that they can use in their professional practice. Administrators, policy-makers and school principals should know that teachers want training that relates closely to their, the teachers’, present reality and to their immediate preoccupations. They would like training to develop professional 324

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skills in their daily lives that are immediately generalisable and help them solve, ‘hands-on’, the problems that they face. Those deciding what in-service training should be offered to professionals working with students with EBD should keep these recommendations in mind.

High-quality education for students with EBD: a personal checklist for educators In his praise of the use of checklists to help avoid omissions and errors, Gawande (2009) proposes what is now already well established in aviation and medicine, where completion of checklists helps to reduce aircraft accidents and to improve surgical success. Using an appropriate checklist, such as the one offered below, may also be useful for every educator and policy-maker concerned with the academic success and social adaptation of children and youth with EBD. The welltrained educator should be able to say ‘yes’ to most of the following propositions, identifying in so doing some of his or her in-service training needs.

1 I am scientifically literate: I understand that research and best practice matter As a well-trained educator, concerned about prevention and intervention, I understand and utilise established and evaluated best practice. I realise that schools do not have the time and luxury to improvise, so I consult and evaluate relevant research in the EBD field and identify the most promising forms of intervention. I know where to search for such information and can contact pertinent professional resources when I need to.

2 I consider screening and early intervention to be extremely important As a well-trained educator, preventing problems relating to language, phonological awareness and aggressive behaviour among preschool children is a priority. I recognise the important relationship between language, reading and behaviour problems (EBD). I am convinced that US$1 spent on prevention usually saves $6 on intervention later on.

3 I consider that first grade (the first year) is one of the most significant periods in schooling I know that systematic monitoring by qualified personnel of first grade children who have problems in reading and who display behavioural or emotional problems is essential. As principal, on a monthly basis, I ask the educators working with my younger students ‘How are my beginning readers doing? Who has the most difficulty following adult directions or shows compliance problems?’

4 I firmly believe that high-quality teaching is a very important factor in the academic achievement of students with EBD The quality of a school and of its teaching is only as good as the quality of its teachers. Teachers are the most important variable affecting student achievement and social adaptation. I know that countries with efficient education systems are also ensuring that the best teachers are working with the most demanding students (The Economist 2009). Excellent teaching makes a huge difference to students with EBD. As a teacher, school principal, or policy-maker, I consider that ‘special education’ teachers must have ‘something special’. 325

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5 I recognise that boys are more at risk of behaviour and reading problems I pay close attention to the underachievement of boys. I understand that asking young boys with EBD (as a condition for success) to demonstrate the self-control that appears to come more easily to young girls, may lead to poor educational decisions in terms of the help the boys need for their learning and behaviour problems. I recognise that boys are more at risk of reading and compliance problems. I recognise the crucial contribution of men in education and consider that a positive male role model can have a significant influence.

6 I am convinced that some form of prevention is always possible Life is not over at 12! Intensive intervention is needed for students who begin secondary school with learning delays, behavioural problems or both. I target reading and social skills and I am able to develop, for these young people, a vocational transition plan with strategies on how to successfully make this transition, accompanied by some form of individual mentoring.

7 I understand that some students need more time than others To me, the false choice between grade retention1 and social promotion is obvious. Neither option provides students who have EBD with the support they need to improve their academic and social skills. I favour some kind of ‘promotion plus’, offering such students specific activities to deal with their difficulties and the possibility of adding learning time during the summer holidays or outside school hours. It is clear that some children and young people need more teaching and learning time than others.

8 I believe that young children learn better with their peers The mainstream classroom, particularly at the preschool and elementary level, should be the first placement option for children with EBD. Placement there can be facilitated by regular professional assessment of the child’s needs. The specialized class must remain an important form of high-quality educational provision, but its main objective should be to help the student with EBD to develop the knowledge and skills that will give the young person the possibility of reintegrating into a regular, mainstream classroom. Crucial objectives for the special education teachers must be to consolidate the young person’s ability to read, to follow adult instructions and to develop social competence.

9 I know that parents and students, as stakeholders, have something important to say We cannot improve the academic achievement and social adaptation of young people with EBD without learning to work with their parents. I understand that families of troubled boys are experiencing significant stress and are frequently singled out by some educators as being responsible for the problems that their children have in school. These parents feel misunderstood and often guilty (Fox et al. 2002). I value positive and frequent communication and refer to them for advice based on the fact that they are the ones who know their child best. I also give a voice to the students who have EBD, encouraging them to share with me their feelings and observations about their school experience (Cefai and Cooper 2009; Sellman 2009). 326

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10 I communicate high behavioural and academic expectations to students with EBD When expectations are clearly communicated to students, their behaviour tends to be in line with them. I keep in mind the story of a young teacher who was called to fill a regular position at a high school in early September. Being the youngest teacher, he was assigned to the most difficult group. The school principal gave him the list of his students and assured the teacher of his support in the case of any problems. Days and weeks went by without the principal hearing a single thing about this teacher or his group. When the first report card was handed out in mid-November, the principal noticed that more than three-quarters of the students had obtained a pass grade in reading and mathematics, with very few comments on discipline problems. When asking the young teacher what was his secret, the principal discovered that the teacher had mistaken the list of his students’ locker numbers (Mathew, 138; Michael, 142; Josh, 133) for their intelligence quotients (IQ) … and had simply adjusted his expectations accordingly.

Conclusion A last essential ingredient, perhaps the most important, should be added to the list given in the section above. Well-trained educators know, and must convince others around them, that students’ behaviour and learning are often inextricably woven together, being closely related and interdependent. To put it simply, Steven may be disruptive in class because he has reading problems. He may also not have been in a situation where he could learn to read because of his problematic behaviours and emotional difficulties. Which comes first in this relationship is not always obvious. Good teachers know that the experience of success in school subjects gives confidence to students and affects their behaviours, emotions and relations with others in a positive manner. These teachers know that classroom success has an impact on the young people’s attachment to school and facilitates their later adaptation as young adults. Such teachers do all they can to ensure that their students experience that success. For pupils with emotional and behavioural difficulties, having encountered such teachers may be a life-long and significant protective factor.

Note 1 This refers to the repetition of the same grade, for example staying a second year in a Grade 3 class.

References Al Otaiba, S. and Fuchs, D. (2002) ‘Characteristics of children who are unresponsive to early literacy instruction’. Remedial and Special Education 23: 300–16. Beard, K.Y. and Sugai, G. (2004) ‘First step to success: An early intervention for elementary children at risk for antisocial behavior’. Behavioral Disorders 29(4): 396–409. Benner, G.L., Nelson, L.R. and Epstein, M.H. (2002) ‘The language skills of children with emotional and behavioral disorders: A review of the literature’. Journal of Emotional and Behavioral Disorders 10: 43–59. Brodeur, M., Dion, E., Mercier, J., Laplante, L. and Bournot-Trites, M. (2008) ‘Amélioration du français: la mobilisation des connaissances comme processus indispensable à la prévention des difficultés d’apprentissage en lecture’. Revue Éducation Canada 48(4): 10–13. Caldarella, P., Ellie, L., Young, M.J., Richardson, B.J. and Young, K.R. (2008) ‘Validation of the systematic screening for behavior disorders in middle and junior high school’. Journal of Emotional and Behavioral Disorders 16(2): 105–17. Callahan, K. (1994) ‘Wherefore art thou, Juliet? Causes and implications of the male-dominated sex ratio in programs for students with emotional and behavioral disorders’. Education and Treatment of Children 17 (3): 228–43. 327

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Cefai, C. and Cooper, P. (eds) (2009) Promoting Emotional Education: Engaging Children and Young People with Social, Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. London: Jessica Kingsley Publishers. Dishion, T.H., McCord, J. and Poulin, F. (1999) ‘When interventions harm: Peer groups and problem behavior’. American Psychologist 54(9): 755–64. The Economist (2009) ‘The quality of teachers: Those who can’, The Economist, 1 August. Fox, L., Wyatte, M.L. and Dunlap, G. (2002), We can’t expect other people to understand: Family perspective on problem behavior’. Exceptional Children 68(4): 437–50. Gawande, A. (2009) The Checklist Manifesto. New York: Metropolitan Books. Giangreco, M.F., Yuan, S., McKenzie, B., Cameron, P. and Fialka, J. (2005) ‘Be careful what you wish for … : Five reasons to be concerned about the assignment of individual paraprofessionals’. Teaching Exceptional Children, May/June: 28–33. Gladwell, M. (2005) Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking. New York: Back Bay Books. Gresham, F.M., Lane, K.L. and Lambros, K.M. (2000) ‘Comorbidity of conduct problems and ADHD: Identification of “fledgling psychopaths”’. Journal of Emotional and Behavioral Disorders 8(2): 83–93. Harris, P.J., Oakes, W.P., Lane, K.L. and Rutherford, R.B. (2009) ‘Improving the early literacy skills of students at risk for internalizing or externalizing behaviors with limited reading skills’. Behavioral Disorders, 34(2): 72–90. Hartup, W.W. (1996) ‘The company they keep: Friendships and their developmental significance’. Child Development 67: 1–13. Hester, P.P. and Kaiser, A.P. (1998) ‘Early intervention for the prevention of conduct disorder: Research issues in early identification, implementation, and interpretation of treatment outcomes’. Behavioral Disorders 24(1): 58–66. Juel, C. (1988) ‘Learning to read and write: A longitudinal study of fifty-four children from first through fourth grade’. Journal of Educational Psychology 80: 439–47. Kauffman, J.M. (1999) ‘How we prevent the prevention of emotional and behavioral disorders’. Exceptional Children 65(4): 448–68. ——(2010) ‘Commentary: Current status of the field and future directions’. Behavioral Disorders 35(2): 180–84. Lane, K.L., Little, M.A., Casey, A.M., Lambert, W., Wehby, J., Weisenbach, J.L. and Phillips, A. (2009) ‘A comparison of systematic screening tools for emotional and behavioral disorders’. Journal of Emotional and Behavioral Disorders 17(2): 93–105. Lipsey, M.W. (1992) ‘Juvenile delinquency treatment: A meta-analytical inquiry into the variability of effects’. In T. Cook, H. Cooper, D. Corday, H. Hartmann, L. Hedges, R. Light, T. Louis and F. Musteller (eds), Meta-Analysis for Explanation: A Casebook. New York: Russell Sage, 83–125. Lovering, K., Framptom, I., Crowe, B., Moseley, A. and Broadhead, M. (2006) ‘Community-based early intervention for children with behavioural, emotional and social problems: Evaluation of the Scallywags Scheme’. Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 11(2): 83–104. Mattison, R.E. (2008) ‘Characteristics of reading disability types in middle school students classified ED’. Behavioral Disorders 34(1): 27–41. Ministère de l’éducation, du loisir et du sport (2008) Élèves en difficulté d’adaptation et d’apprentissage à temps plein et à temps partiel du secteur des jeunes, selon l’ordre d’enseignement, le type de difficulté et le sexe. DCS. Morgeson, F.P., Seligman, M.E.P., Sternberg, R.J., Taylor, S.E. and Manning, C.M. (1999) ‘Lessons learned from a life in psychological science’. American Psychologist 54: 106–16. Nelson, J.R., Benner, G.J. and Gonzalez, J. (2003) ‘Learner characteristics that influence the treatment effectiveness of early literacy interventions: A meta-analytic review’. Learning Disabilities Research & Practice 18: 255–67. Nelson, J.R., Benner, G.J., Lane, K. and Smith, B.W. (2004) ‘An investigation of the academic achievement of K-12 students with emotional and behavioral disorders in public school settings’. Exceptional Children 71: 59–74. Nelson, J.R., Benner, G.J., Neill, S. and Stage, S.A. (2006) ‘Interrelationships among language skills, externalizing behavior, and academic fluency and their impact on the academic skills of students with ED’. Journal of Emotional and Behavioral Disorders 14(4): 209–16. Nelson, J.R., Stage, S., Trout, A., Duppong-Hurley, K. and Epstein, M.H. (2008) ‘Which risk factors predict the basic reading skills of children at risk for emotional and behavioral disorders?’ Behavioral Disorders 33 (2): 75–86. Parent, G., Cartier, R., Laurin, P., Lavoie, L., Rhéaume, D., Toussaint, P., Royer, C. and Jean, C. (1997) ‘Les perceptions d’enseignantes et d’enseignants en adaptation scolaire quant à la formation continue’. Scientia Paedagogica Experimentalis 24(1): 117–54. 328

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Rosin, H. (2010) ‘The End of Men’. The Atlantic, July/August. Royer, É. (2004) ‘The gap between research and practice: Achieving effective in-service training for teachers working with EBD students’. In P. Clough, P. Garner, J.T. Pardeck and F. Yuen (eds), Handbook of Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties in Education. London: Sage, 373–84. ——(2006a) ‘SEBD students and teachers’ training: A knowledge base is in search of practitioners’. In Dans M. Hunter-Carsch, Y. Tiknaz, R. Sage and P. Cooper (eds), The Handbook of Social, Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. London: Continuum, 30–35. ——(2006b) Le Chuchotement de Galilée: permettre aux jeunes difficiles de réussir à l’école. Québec: École et comportement. ——(2008) Qu’advient-il des jeunes en difficulté de comportement à l’école secondaire? Communication présentée à la Quatrième Conférence mondiale sur la violence à l’école, juin, Lisbonne, Portugal. ——(2009) Like a Chameleon on Tartan: How to Teach Difficult Students Without Becoming Exhausted. Québec: École et comportement. ——(2010) L’amélioration de la formation des enseignants est déterminante. Le Monde, Paris, 3 April. Sciutto, M.J., Nolfi, C.J. and Bluhm, C. (2004) ‘Effects of child gender and symptom type on referrals for ADHD by elementary school teachers’. Journal of Emotional and Behavioral Disorders 12(4): 247–53. Sellman, E. (2009) ‘Lesson learned: Student voice at a school for pupils experiencing emotional and behavioural difficulties’. Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 14(1): 33–48. Storey, K., Lawry, J., Ashworth, R., Dan Ko, C. and Strain, P. (1994) ‘Functional analysis and intervention for disruptive behaviors of a kindergarten student’. Journal of Educational Research 87: 361–70. Tommerdahl, J. (2009) ‘What teachers of students with SEBD need to know about speech and language difficulties’. Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties 14(1): 19–31. Torgesen, J.K. (2004) Preventing Early Reading Failure. Washington, DC: American Federation of Teachers, www.aft.org/pubs-reports/american_educator/issues/fall04/reading.htm.

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37 Teacher education Dilemmas and tensions for school staff working with pupils with EBD Philip Garner

The initial training of teachers and others working in support of pupils who experience emotional and behavioural difficulties (EBD) has remained a high-profile agenda item for decades and in many national settings. In part, it is the product of a long-standing and deep-seated ‘moral panic’ regarding a perceived decline in standards of behaviour exhibited by young people in school (Turkington 1986), and the implication that this is linked to shortcomings in the way that teachers are trained in ‘classroom management’ (Phillips 1996). It also signals the contested position of such pupils in an era when ‘educational inclusion’ is the policy norm, and a continuing tendency for training relating to pupil behaviour to be delivered separately from other aspects of training (Powell and Tod 2004). Tensions and dilemmas are ultimately highlighted by the continuing struggle to establish meaningful training responses to the challenges posed by pupils with EBD. In considering aspects of these dilemmas and tensions, this author’s commentary and analysis is necessarily directed by his own English experience, utilising some first-hand accounts from teacher educators and trainees from that context. However, the concerns and dilemmas can be recognised in a wide range of international settings (ETUCE 2008), captured at various points in the chapter. The term ‘teacher education’ is used throughout, whilst recognising the widespread use of the expression ‘teacher training’. In matters relating to the development of greater understanding of pupil behaviour and its complexities, the former seems more relevant.

An intractable and ongoing concern In 2008 the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) intimated that levels of academic achievement were being negatively affected by pupil behaviour: On average, teachers spend 13% of classroom time maintaining order, but in Brazil and Malaysia the proportions rises to more than 17%. Aside from classroom disturbances, other factors hindering instruction included student absenteeism (46%), students turning up late for class (39%), profanity and swearing (37%), and intimidation or verbal abuse of other students (35%). (OECD 2008: 62) 330

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These data were presented as part of an analysis of the perceived training and development needs of teachers, and indicate shortcomings in these areas on an international scale. In spite of decades of policy initiatives in many countries, a worryingly non-strategic approach remains in the way that teacher education addresses the issue. Equally disturbing is the concern about the absence of appropriate levels of training and development for new teachers in respect of ‘special educational needs’ (SEN) (OECD 2008). Many pupils who present behaviour problems also experience learning difficulties relating to cognition and communication. Pupil behaviour is inextricably linked to academic performance. In initial teacher education, therefore, provision is viewed as either inadequate or inappropriate, resulting in an absence of well-qualified practitioners working directly in the classroom (Broomfield 2006). Kosnik and Beck observe that: A major challenge reported by [the] new teachers was disruptive behaviour … behaviour problems meant that a lot of time was wasted, certain learning activities were simply not feasible, and the stress-level rose for teachers and students alike. (Kosnik and Beck 2009: 72) Significantly, having identified behaviour as a major theme, these authors then fail to address the question in any substantive way. This should be a matter of particular concern given the normative policy approach obtaining in most countries relating to educational inclusion. In spite of a burgeoning literature on this topic, there remains a studied failure to address what O’Brien (2001) has referred to as the ‘hard cases’ in inclusive teacher education—pupils who present behaviour challenges, notwithstanding certain exceptions (Conway 2009). Nor is this a new situation. It has pervaded all dimensions of provision, whether in mainstream or specialist settings (Golder et al. 2005). Shortfalls in the coverage of ‘behaviour issues’ in preservice courses have been regularly reported in the literature (Cooper and Upton 1990; Teacher Development Agency 2008) and internationally by Rouse (2010). What makes this training shortfall even more remarkable in England is that it prompts a consistent level of concern, expressed by government, professionals and the general public, well-exemplified by popular reporting (Garner 2009) and the academic literature (Pavey and Visser 2003). Such viewpoints are steadfastly maintained, in spite of another body of evidence that is able to offer an alternative version (DES 1989; DfES 2005a). This latter interpretation has been summarized in the OECD’s declaration, which robustly states that: Popular belief has it that every successive crop of students is less disciplined than the one before it, and that teachers are losing control over their classes. But popular belief has it wrong. Between 2000 and 2009, discipline in school did not deteriorate in fact, in most countries it improved. (OECD 2008: 60) Nevertheless, such an analysis is contrary to current policy approaches in England, where the last 30 or more years have been marked by only sporadic innovations in teacher education. Cooper et al., for example, indicated that: Teachers in general are unprepared by their initial training, and by in-service training arrangements for dealing with emotional and behavioural difficulties … and specialist teachers in (this) field have been shown to place their requirement for further training in the area high on their list of priorities. (Cooper et al. 1994: 3) 331

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A tension that has contributed to the failure of teacher education to address EBD issues has been the corralling of EBD as a ‘special educational need’ resulting in it enduring the same marginalised position in teacher education as coverage of other learning differences and SENs. The absence of in-depth attention to SEN in pre-service courses has been a consistent cause for concern over many years (Davies and Garner 1997; Pearson 2007). The pressure to emphasise ‘subject knowledge’ in teacher education has further marginalised the prospect of dealing systematically with issues relating to pupil behaviour.

Competing beliefs and practices Teacher education in England continues to struggle to address the issues sketched above against a background of changes in political ideology and an increased pressure placed on schools to be viewed as ‘effective’. Two recent policy phases illustrate polarities in approaches to teacher education and pupil behaviour, resulting in potential for confusion, uncertainty and atrophy.

1 EBD in a period of enlightenment The period from 1997 to 2010 was unusual in that there was a widespread recognition and accompanying policy enactment that overtly sought to tackle the social dimensions of learning. The pupil became the central focus. The emergence of new legislation as part of the ‘Every Child Matters’ (DfES 2003a) strategy placed an emphasis on the well-being of young people and recognised that their academic attainment and social progress were inextricably linked. The focus on pupil behaviour shifted towards promoting positive approaches in managing behaviour and a resurgent emphasis on linking learning and behaviour. The period witnessed the establishment of a major national programme in England addressing the ‘social and emotional aspects of learning’ (SEAL) (DfES 2007). Both had an impact on teacher education in the development of ‘behaviour for learning’ (Ellis and Tod 2009). Greater understanding of child and adolescent development was placed at the heart of a ‘positive approach to pupil behaviour’, as opposed to a reactive ‘behaviour management’ approach. Pre-service courses were able to re-introduce aspects of a behaviour curriculum that had previously been overshadowed by an emphasis on subject knowledge (Reed 2005). The resulting period was one in which new developments could be fostered and grown over longer periods of time, rather than quick-fix solutions. Surveys of newly qualified teachers during this period indicated a growth in satisfaction and confidence in the way that their course had prepared them to address behaviour issues in the classroom (Teacher Development Agency 2007, 2008, 2009). The development of a more holistic version of what comprises ‘pupil behaviour’ within teacher education resulted in some important gains being made in addressing an endemic issue in pre-service courses in England—that of the ‘bolt-on’ component (most usually covering such vital themes as equality, special educational needs and behaviour). Input on behaviour in general was regarded as the preserve of a specialist tutor, often delivering sessions the content of which appeared to be divorced from the ‘real life’ of the classroom and the reality of teaching a curriculum subject (Powell and Tod 2004). A ‘behaviour for learning’ approach offered a framework for subject tutors in pre-service programmes, through which inter-relationships could be articulated between the pupil’s sense of ‘self’, their relationship with their teacher, and with their curriculum learning. The approach has been summarised as emphasising: a need to enhance the synergy between academic, vocational, affective and social curricular intentions and outcomes for individuals. These links need to be emphasized in ITE. 332

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This can be achieved by establishing working and conceptual links between learning and behaviour. (Behaviour4Learning 2004) ‘Behaviour for learning’ evoked a positive response from teacher educators and from many teachers (Adams 2009; Conway 2009). The Teacher Development Agency (2009) reported a continued rise in the level of confidence on the part of new teachers to address behaviour issues in their classrooms. New teachers felt better able to understand and meet the needs of pupils with EBD by placing ‘relationships’ at the centre of a climate for learning (Weare 2003). In forging trust and working links with EBD pupils, teachers were encouraged to call on a repertoire of affective skills and attributes (Smith et al. 2007). This was accompanied by a recognition that such features in a teacher’s profile were as notoriously difficult to develop (Garner 1999).

2 Back to basics: punishment and retribution In spite of the benefits of locating a training response to pupil behaviour in a positive and holistic way, the advent of a new political administration in England in 2010 brought a significant change in policy direction. A crude, revisionist response was instigated under the pretext of reducing costs, bureaucracy, paperwork, and making advice and guidance more accessible. The government removed a massive repertoire of professionally informed and practical web-based resources on pupil behaviour. These were decommissioned and subsequently located in a national archive, which was beyond the sight-line of most trainee teachers or their tutors. Amongst the materials that became obscured were substantial documents promoting positive strategies for behaviour change, including social and emotional aspects of learning (DfES 2007). For many teacher educators this was a case of professional and intellectual vandalism. Having ensured that these important and proactive resources were made more difficult to access, a ‘back-to-basics’ approach to dealing with pupil behaviour was instigated (DfE 2011). The agenda presented was uncompromisingly about control and ‘discipline’, and a preoccupation with the legal powers and duties of school staff. It provided information on such measures as ‘detentions, punishment’ and the powers that teachers had to use ‘reasonable force’. The document was stripped bare of reference to relationship-building and to the social and emotional aspects of learning—both of which comprised hopeful developments from the earlier decade. Nor was there mention of the link between academic and social learning. Such was the dramatic shift in orientation that even the professional associations for teachers, usually so supportive of measures to give teachers more authority in their classrooms, appeared to raise question marks over a retrogressive approach. The importance of this shift in orientation for teacher education in respect of EBD is likely to be profound. In England it has long been the case that as much as two-thirds of a teacher education course is located within schools. Trainee teachers will absorb the messages sent out by some schools that managing behaviour, including that of pupils who have significant EBDs, is all about adopting a rule-governed, inflexible and hierarchical approach. The impact of these changes on teacher education is likely to result in a reductionist approach, in which student teachers are given strategies or tips on how they might best ensure that they can demonstrate effective classroom ‘control’. Accordingly, the standards for the training of teachers echo these policy shifts, with a parallel emphasis on ‘rules and routines for behaviour in classrooms’ and on establishing a ‘framework for discipline’ (Teacher Development Agency 2010a). Subsequently, DfE published a consultation White Paper, The Importance of Teaching (DfE 2010), 333

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which contained significant sections on both behaviour and teacher education. The former contained a depressing preamble, painting a picture for prospective trainees of war-torn schools and pupils who were ‘out of control’: Among undergraduates considering becoming teachers, the most common reason for pursuing another profession is the fear of not being safe in our schools … And poor discipline is forcing good people out of the classroom. Two thirds of teachers say that negative behaviour is driving people out of the profession, and the most frequent factor cited as a cause of classroom stress is pupils’ lack of respect towards teaching staff. (DfE 2010: 25)

Current dilemmas and opportunities: some stakeholder perspectives So the recent provision in England regarding the training and development of teachers in order to equip them to manage the behaviour and learning of pupils termed ‘EBD’ is one characterised by polarities. Competing belief systems are at work, in which respectful, pupil-focused approaches to pupils are denigrated as being ‘soft’, whilst those that are rule-governed, hierarchical and authoritarian are deemed to be ‘character-forming’ and inclined to promote ‘standards’ (invariably interpreted as those measured by academic performance). Teacher educators have always had to address the often competing tensions that result (Kosnik and Beck 2009) and never more so than in England in 2012. It is a situation that evokes frustration and cynicism, as has been illustrated in the wake of the White Paper. The English government’s Education Select Committee heard evidence from one of its own former officers, who potently synthesised the concerns felt by many tutors, teachers and trainees: [for decades] there has been no training in child development and child psychology. That is extraordinary. If you do a three-year course, you get four to five hours if you are lucky, and if you are on a PGCE [post-graduate certificate in education] course—on which most teachers now come into the profession—you are lucky if you get between an hour and two hours on classroom management and behaviour. (Education Select Committee 2011: para. 78) The final section of this chapter explores some of the viewpoints of a range of key stakeholders to the kinds of tensions touched upon above. Data were collected from a group of tutors, teachers, trainees and policy-makers involved in teacher education (n = 50), based on focus-group discussion (Behaviour4Learning 2009). The focus groups explored how best issues concerning pupil behaviour could be addressed within teacher education courses. Their discussions were audio recorded and analysis of the resulting data was undertaken using NVivo. This revealed a range of restraints and limits, as well as a set of possibilities for future action. Several are now briefly highlighted and illustrated by selected extracts from the discussion transcripts.

1 Abiding tensions: pupil behaviour and teacher education The title of Davies and Garner’s (1997) book, At the Crossroads, remains relevant in 2012 in respect of pupil behaviour and the way that we prepare new teachers. Many of the concerns highlighted in 1997, relating to the marginalisation, organisation and content of course provision for SEN, currently preoccupy the minds of EBD specialists working in teacher education. 334

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(a) Time constraints EBD issues are seen as having to be squeezed into a crowded ‘training curriculum’, which is heavily geared towards delivering ‘subject-knowledge’ and pedagogy. Thus, a school-mentor indicated: ‘I think we need to look beyond a single year as a training period because that’s the only way that behaviour will get a look-in and instead the government is going to actually shorten the time that students spend training.’ This is also reflected in the way that courses are formally scrutinized by Ofsted, one tutor stating: ‘I think course planners can’t be blamed for side-lining behaviour, because inspections never seem to look at our coverage of it in any detail.’

(b) Lack of connection with other course components One argument made was that the majority of providers do not offer integrated sessions, in which subject-related issues relating to behaviour are introduced: ‘It’s a bit of an uphill struggle, to be honest and it is bad from several points … it creates the idea that there is some magic that you can work as a specialist tutor, but it also tells students that there are these special people who, sort of, do things with difficult kids.’

(c) Absence of positive ‘modelling’ In the case of EBD, a major challenge facing teacher education providers is that they sometimes have to struggle to locate appropriate placements for their trainees. Schools experiencing challenging circumstances (Lancashire County Council/St Martin’s College 2004), with an accompanying high incidence of learning difficulty and behaviour issues amongst its pupils, are seen as inappropriate for trainee placements. They present trainees with very stressful situations and many trainees are not well equipped for such an early encounter. On the other hand, one student teacher contributing to the round table suggested that he ‘ … felt very discouraged by the attitude shown by some of the staff in the school … and it was only because I had other experience working with young people that I wasn’t influenced by them’.

(d) Identifying behaviour priorities Participants also believed that teacher education courses should be more systematic in guiding trainee teachers through their course by using a structured, building-block approach. Several felt that this was absent, and that it confused and frustrated trainees. Thus, a student recollected that she felt ‘swamped by different theories, lists of references [and] … not getting much guidance from my tutors on where to go to start with, what to read and stuff like that’. A specialist concurred: ‘we are far too ad hoc in what we input … it depends on who’s available, what their interests are … a bit hit and miss it should be said.’

(e) A climate of risk aversion Teacher education in England is heavily regulated but whilst scrutiny is systematically directed towards such course elements as ‘effective evaluation’, ‘command of the subject’ and ‘clear teaching objectives and learning targets’, there is little direct focus on pupil behaviour. The current inspection framework (Ofsted 2011: 8) states that courses should help students to be ‘able to organise and manage their classes confidently and safely’. Attention is understandably placed on the former set of skill areas, given that these will form the basis of the inspection judgement. In consequence, 335

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course providers are less likely to explore innovative ways of progressing an EBD agenda, because this may result in a deflection from what is seen as the priority effort. A senior course manager summarised the resulting stasis: ‘Things are so draconian … it takes just one thing to go awry and you’ve lost that Category A that you’ve tried so hard for. Many of my colleagues think that it’s just not worth deviating from tried and tested ways.’

(f) Categorisation, labels and stereotypes A further discussion theme concerned the extent to which specialist EBD tutors were an anachronism at a time when ‘inclusive’ teacher education was being promoted (Teacher Development Agency 2010b). One participant argued: ‘We need to be very careful that we are not sowing in the minds of trainees that there are certain kinds of kids who will fit into a particular pattern or way of being … and giving a lecture about what to do when you have an EBD lad in your class does exactly that.’

2 Future prospects: pupil behaviour and teacher education (a) Partnership-based approaches Many successful collaborative arrangements exist between teacher education providers, schools and other settings. Many comments related to the untapped opportunities in this context. For example, ‘I believe there’s a long way to go. With less central control, for instance, I know that we’d be wanting to develop a big number of innovations, which would be very exciting for the trainees and bring benefits to pupils who find difficulty’, observed one specialist EBD tutor. Peersupported learning was another approach that found widespread approval amongst attendees, with one trainee being supportive of paired coaching geared to addressing issues of pupil behaviour: ‘From my own experience it was a really good experience and it’s something that should sort of become the norm really.’

(b) Problem-solving approaches It was recognised that trainee teachers needed to be exposed to solution-finding ways of working, rather than being given a set of fixed guidelines. One trainee summarised this: ‘ … there are those children for whom your behaviour strategies don’t really work and you really need to understand those individuals rather than try and make them fit with what you’re trying to do.’ This observation links to other areas for development identified in the focus groups, especially critical reflection and a focus on the affective domain in teacher education.

(c) Curriculum reinforcement The importance was recognised of having specialist input from individuals with direct, practical experience of working with EBD pupils. One-off lectures were not favoured: ‘behaviour/EBD’ sessions should be embedded in the general teaching and learning programme, where they could be reinforced by other (subject) tutors. A tutor believed that specialist EBD staff should supervise students on placements, to signal to both the trainee and non-specialist tutors that EBD is not something that occurs in isolation, as well as giving her an opportunity to highlight EBD-specific management or support issues. 336

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(d) Systematic and ‘wave organised’ England’s national behaviour and attendance strategies and SEAL (see, for example DfES 2003b, 2005b) emphasised a ‘waves’ approach to knowledge and skills acquisition. This accepted that all pupils will require certain social, emotional and behavioural skills, whilst some may need to be involved in small group learning, with an even smaller number benefitting from direct, one-to-one interventions. It was felt that this way of organising inputs on EBD issues could be adapted to the needs of trainees, especially if it were used to structure course content. Thus, a first term of a one-year (PGCE) pre-service course might address those basic pieces of information that a new trainee might need most in order to assist in the vital task of classroom management: as one tutor put it, ‘trainee teachers want the tips, but they don’t necessarily understand the underpinning theories’. The latter might be explored in the second term, where more specific strategies, and a greater exposure to theory, is provided. The third term would focus attention on growing even deeper insights, and where ‘there is a sense in which trainees actually do need to learn that EBD exists, that it is complex and, you know, that different strategies can be used’ (tutor). Critically, the waves approach introduces trainees to increased levels of reflection, so that the same tutor advised that, ‘the crucial bit is being able to be reflective and have the confidence to stand back and say “that isn’t working” … and that kind of moves things on.’

(e) Using other professionals Each of the focus-group discussions made reference to the importance of collaborative work in teacher education, a theme that has been highlighted over the last five or more years in England (Alborz et al. 2009). One participant noted that, ‘There seems to be approximately 30,000 people now in some overall responsibility for behaviour work in schools, and I think that they tend to be a pretty much untapped resource and perhaps the way of associating teaching practice with some of these people … ’

(f) Emphasising reflection and values Critical reflection, as well as the effective teacher attributes that enable it to flourish, continues to retain a position of importance in teacher education. As one participant suggested, ‘It is easy to be reflective when things go well. It is when you are really up against it, when the pupils don’t seem to want to know, and when you feel threatened, professionally … that’s the time that the genuine reflective practitioner is to be identified’. To be effective, reflection has to be embedded and linked to other elements of course input, especially content. One PGCE course-leader stated: ‘I often sit them down and say “look at this video” or “read this book” and we’ll talk about it, because “you’re not going to … get very much further unless you know this basic material”.’

Déjà vu: 25 years of teacher education This is the writer’s 25th year in teacher education. Virtually all of it has been directed towards those elements of course provision that seek to raise the profile of the needs and opportunities of marginalised pupils—especially those termed as ‘having’ EBD. During that time many committed and skilful colleagues, teachers, other professionals, and innumerable student teachers have carried a wide-eyed anticipation and expectation forward into the classroom. If an attempt were made to trace similarities and differences between the start and end of this period (1987 to 2012), the conclusion would be that little has changed, and what changes have 337

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taken place have come with an ‘ill wind’ following. Teacher education relating to EBD still faces the same conceptual challenges, the same structural difficulties and the same resistance to doing very much. Apart, that is, from adopting the equivalent of jumping on a set of populist bandwagons which are known not to work, whilst studiously avoiding the widespread, data-led evidence base indicating that ‘what works’ in EBD is the application of knowledge, understanding and a recognition that meaningful change takes time and cannot be forced. Thankfully, like the roundtable participants whose voices illustrate this chapter, there are many more true enthusiasts who do not shirk in the presence of such challenges.

References Adams, K. (2009) Behaviour for Learning in the Primary School. Exeter: Learning Matters. Alborz, A., Pearson, D., Farrell, P. and Howes, A. (2009) The Impact of Adult Support Staff on Pupils and Mainstream Schools. DCSF/London: IoE, Evidence for Policy and Practice Information and Co-ordinating Centre (EPPI Centre). Behaviour4Learning (2004) An Exploration of Key Themes in Classroom Management: Implications for PRN (Behaviour) Development. Northampton: Behaviour4Learning. ——(2009) London Behaviour Summit, www.youtube.com/watch?v=NF3sAycOdTY (accessed 4 July 2011). Broomfield, C. (2006) ‘PGCE secondary trainee teachers and effective behaviour management: An evaluation and commentary’. Support for Learning 21 (4): 188–93. Conway, B. (2009) ‘Engaging teachers in supporting positive student behavior change’. In C. Forlin (ed.), Teacher Education for Inclusion. London: Routledge. Cooper, P., Smith, C. and Upton, G. (1994) Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. London: Routledge. Cooper, P. and Upton, G. (1990) ‘An ecosystemic approach to emotional and behavioural difficulties in schools’. Educational Psychology 10(4): 301–21. Corrie, L. (2002) Investigating Troublesome Behaviour in Classrooms. London: Routledge. Council for Exceptional Children (2000) Bright Futures for Exceptional Learners: An Action Agenda to achieve Quality Conditions for Teaching and Learning. Reston, VA: CEC. Davies, J. and Garner, P. (eds) (1997) At the Crossroads. Special Educational Needs and Teacher Education. London: David Fulton Publishers. DES (1989) Discipline in Schools (Report of the Committee of Enquiry Chaired by Lord Elton). London: HMSO. DfE (Department for Education) (2010) The Importance of Teaching. London: DfE. ——(2011) Behaviour and Discipline in Schools—A Guide for Head Teachers and Schools Staff. London: DfE. DfES (Department of Education and Science) (1978) Report of the Committee of Enquiry into the Education of Handicapped Children and Young People (The Warnock Report). London: DES. ——(2003a) Every Child Matters. London: DfES. ——(2003b) Key Stage 3 National Strategy Behaviour and Attendance Training Materials. Core Day 1. Nottingham: DfES. ——(2005a) Learning Behaviour: The Report of the Practitioners’ Group on School Behaviour and Discipline (The Steer Report). Nottingham: DfES. ——(2005b) Excellence and Enjoyment: Social and Emotional Aspects of Learning: Guidance. Nottingham: DfES. ——(2007) Social and Emotional Aspects of Learning. Nottingham: DfES. Education Select Committee (2011) Behaviour and Discipline in Schools: para. 78, www.publications.parliament. uk/pa/cm201011/cmselect/cmeduc/516/51609.htm#note143 (accessed 2 July 2011). Ellis, S. and Tod, J. (2009) Behaviour for Learning: Proactive Approaches to Behaviour Management. London: Routledge. ETUCE (2008) Teacher Education in Europe. Brussels: ETUCE. Garner, P. (1999) ‘“The diameters of planets”: What makes an effective teacher of pupils with problems?’. In Pupils with Problems. Rational fears … radical solutions? Stoke-on-Trent: Trentham Books. Garner, R. (2009) ‘The Big Question: Is behaviour in schools out of control and what should be done about it?’ The Independent, 16 April. Golder, G., Norwich, B. and Bayliss, P. (2005) ‘Preparing teachers to teach pupils with special educational needs in more inclusive schools: evaluating a PGCE development’. British Journal of Special Education 32 (2): 92–99. Kosnik, C. and Beck, C. (2009) Priorities in Teacher Education. London: Routledge. 338

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Lancashire County Council/St Martin’s College (2004) Successful Teachers in Schools in Challenging Circumstances. Lancaster: LCC/St Martin’s College. O’Brien, T. (2001) ‘Learning from the Hard Cases’. In T. O’Brien (ed.), Enabling Inclusion: Blue Skies … Dark Clouds? London: The Stationery Office. O’Brien, T. and Guiney, D. (2005) ‘The problem is not the problem: Hard cases in modernist systems’. In P. Clough, P. Garner, J. Pardeck and F. Yuen (eds), Handbook of Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties. London: Sage. OECD (2008) Creating Effective Teaching and Learning Environments: First Results from TALIS. Paris: Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development. Ofsted (2011) Framework for the Inspection of Initial Teacher Training for the Award of Qualified Teacher Status 2005–11. London: Ofsted. Pavey, S. and Visser, J. (2003) ‘Primary exclusions: Are they rising?’ British Journal of Special Education 30(4), December. Pearson, S. (2007) ‘Exploring inclusive education: Early steps for prospective secondary school teachers’. British Journal of Special Education 34(1): 25–32. Phillips, M. (1996) ‘Back to school—to be educated’. The Observer, 8 October. Powell, S. and Tod, J. (2004) ‘A systematic review of how theories explain learning behaviour in school contexts’. EPPI Review. London: Institute of Education. Reed, J. (2005) Toward Zero Exclusion. Reading: CfBT. Rouse, M. (2010) ‘Reforming initial teacher education’. In C. Forlin (ed.), Teacher Education for inclusion. London: Routledge, 47–48. Smith, P., O’Donnell, L., Easton, C. and Rudd, P. (2007) Secondary Social, Emotional and Behaviourial Skills (SEBS) Pilot Evaluation. Research Report RR-003. London: DCSF. Teacher Development Agency (2007) Results of the Newly Qualified Teacher Survey 2006. London: TDA ——(2008) Results of the Newly Qualified Teacher Survey 2007. London: TDA. ——(2009) Results of the Newly Qualified Teacher Survey 2008. London: TDA. ——(2010a) Framework for Discipline. ——(2010b) The Pillars of Inclusion. Inclusive Teaching and Learning for Pupils with Special Educational Needs (SEN) and/or Disabilities. Manchester: TDA. Turkington, R. (1986) In Search of the Disruptive Pupil Problem Behaviour in Secondary Schools 1959–1982. Unpublished PhD thesis. Leeds: Department of Sociology, University of Leeds. Weare, K. (2003) Developing the Emotionally Literate School. London: Sage.

339

Author index

Abbey, E. 41 Achenbach, T. 162, 164, 167 Adams, K. 333 Adams, T. 107 Adamson, S. 297 Adi, Y. 126 AFASIC 158 Afifi, T. 119 Ainscow, M. 29, 300 Akhutina, T. 135, 216–25 Al Otaiba, S. 323 Alberto, P. 380 112, 114, Alborz, A. 337 Alcorn, J. 277 Allen, G. 146, 147, 150, 152 Allen, K. 267, 269 Allport, D. 218 Altmann, S. 179 American Psychiatric Association 1, 15, 25, 52, 93 American Psychological Association Zero Tolerance Task Force 212 Amlund-Hagen, K. 309, 310 Anastasis, D. 15, 17 Anderson, C. 284 Angold, A. 146, 147, 148, 149 Arnold, K. 76 Arnsten, A. 99 Ashe, J. 50 Ashman, A. 167 Askeland, E. 308, 309 Astor, R. 210, 211, 213 Atkinson, A. 70 Avens, R. 109 Avramidis, E. 184 Axford, N. 309 Axline, V. 108 Bailey, J. 113 Baker, J. 265, 266 Baker, P. 184, 189 Ballard, J. 272 Bambara, L. 170, 171, 175 340

Bandura, A. 306 Banerjee, R. 196, 198, 206 Barkley, R. 32, 38, 219, 229 Barkmann, C. 76 Barlow, J. 146, 151 Barlow, J. 310 Barrett, P. 144 Barth, A. 76 Bartolo, P. 189 Batmanghelidjh, C. 229 Baumeister, R. 255 Baumrind, D. 118 Baumun, Z. 28 Bayer, J. 99 Beard, K. 323 Beck, C. 331, 334 Beger, R. 212 Behaviour4Learning 334 Beitchman, J. 154 Belsky, J. 100 Benard, B. 184, 185, 186, 187, 189 Benbenishty, R. 210, 211, 213 Bennathan, M. 163, 164, 165, 267, 269, 270, 273 Benner, G. 148, 155 Benner, G. 323 Berger, P. 45 Bernard, B. 94 Bernard, S. 148 Berryman, M. 4, 263, 280–87 Bessette, K. 172, 173 Best, J. 216 Biederman, J. 34 Biglan,T. 308, 311 Bildungsbericht 77 Billson, 283 Bilton, K. 12, 32–39, 87, 89–95 Binnie, L. 267, 269 Bion, W. 107 Birch, A. 265 Bishop, D. 158 Bishop, R. 281

Author index

Blair, C. 101 Blair, K. 172 Blair, M. 283 Blatchford, P, 299 Blaya, C. 135, 208–15 Blazer, D. 89, 94 Bliss, T. 272 Blood, E. 171, 173 Blower, A. 318 Bluestein, J. 188 Boorn, C. 144 Booth, T. 29 Borjesson, M. 41 Bottcher, 212 Botting, N. 154 Boulton, M. 209, 212 Bowers Stephens, C. 146 Bowker, G. 40 Bowlby, J. 87, 107, 147, 265, 300 Boxall, M. 64, 144, 163, 164, 165, 265, 266, 267, 269, 270, 273 Boxford, S. 51 Boydell Brauner, C. 146 Boyle, C. 139 Bradshaw, K. 76 Bradshaw, P. 147, 148 Bragg, S. 247 Braintlinger, G. 23 Branigan, C. 256 Bransby, G. 155 Braswell, J. 92 Bray, M. 227 Breakwell, G. 258 Brendgen, M. 115 Bridgeland, M. 71 Briggs, F. 118 Brigham, F. 15 Briscoe, J. 156 British Psychological Society, 281 Brodeur, M. 323 Bronfenbrenner, U. 89, 94, 147, 305, 306, 307 Broomfield, C. 331 Brophy, J. 114 Brown, T. 229 Bruer, J. 87 Bruner, J. 280, 283, 286 Bruns, E. 315 Bryan, J. 155 Bullock, L. 2, 133, 170–76 Burgess, J. 155 Burns, R. 272 Burton, D. 317 Burton, D. 53 Cable, C. 297 Caldarella, P. 323 Calear, A. 126, 127

Callahan, K. 323 Cameron, R. 185 Campbell, S. 119, 149 Cardy, J. 155 Carr, E. 3 Carter, D. 172, 173 Cartwright-Hatton, S. 122 Casement, P. 107 Casey, B. 62, 219 Cefai, C. 326 Cefai, C. 94, 134, 184–92, 248, 251, 270 Cental Advisory Council for England (Plowden Report) 297 Challen, A. 127 Chamberlain, P. 310 Chazan, M. 77, 76 Checkland, P. 144 Chenoweth, L. 317 Chirkov, V. 116 Chomsky, N. 229 Chorpita, B. 311 Christensen, H. 126, 127 Clark, A. 248 Clough, P. 244 Cole, M. 5 Cole, P.M. 254 Cole, T. 1–7, 11–14, 35, 69, 71, 75, 77, 80, 87–88, 133–37, 163, 184, 186, 189, 196, 226, 227, 263, 305 Colley, D. 163, 269, 270 Colman, I. 184 Columbine Review Commission 257 Colwell, T. 269 Comley-Ross, P. 294 Compton, S. 122 Conners, C. 162 Conrad, P. 35 Conway, B. 332, 333 Conway, P. 315, 316 Conway, R. 167 Cook, C. 173 Cook, L. 189 Cooke, C. 270 Cooper, P. 3, 4, 5, 12, 13, 23, 29, 32–39, 49, 71, 87, 89–95, 135, 140, 163, 165, 184, 188, 189, 244, 248, 251, 267, 268, 269, 326, 331 Corcoran, J. 89 Corkum, P. 230 Cornett, C. 241 Cote, J. 134 Couture, C. 263, 264–71 Coyle, J. 213 Crawford, T. 317, 318, 319 Creswell, J. 290 Crick, N. 177 Crockenburg, S. 119 341

Croll, P. 60 Cruddas, L. 288 Csikszentmihalyi, M. 188 Cullinan, D. Currie, J. 147 Curtis, N. 309, 310 Cusson, M. 211, 212 Daleiden, E. 311 Dallos, R. 294 Daniels, A, 134 Daniels, A. 167 Daniels, H. 1–7, 11–14, 70, 71, 87–88, 133–37, 163, 186, 189, 196, 263, 305 Daothong, J. 281 Davies, J. 248, 251, 332, 334 Davies, S. 286 Davies, W. 257 Davis, H.185 Dawson, G. 219 Dawson, N. 276 Dawson, P. 230, 231 De Bellis, M. 227, 230 de Board, R. 110 de Boer, C. 318 De Graaf 34 Debarbieux, E. 135, 208–15 Deci, E. 116, 119, 186 DeJong, T. 186 Delfabbro, P. 115 Delville, Y. 227 Demetriou, H. 248 DEMOS 272 Dennison, B. 5 Dent, R. 185 Denton, C. 179 Department for Children, Schools and Families (England) 11, 13, 53, 135, 149, 150, 194, 227 Department for Education (England) 11, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 133, 283, 316, 333, 334 Department for Education and Skills (England) 35, 126, 136, 139, 147, 151, 149, 150, 247, 281, 288, 289, 297, 331, 332, 337 Department of Education and Science (England) 246, 297, 331 Department of Health (England) 313 Deschenes S., 41 Dessent, T. 139 Devaney, J. 317 Devine, T. 60 Diamond, A. 216, 219 Dillow, C. 299 Dishion, T. 324 Dix, P. 226 Docking, J. 70 Dockrell, J. 154, 159 342

Dodge, K. 120 Donnington, R. 108 Douglas, M. 40 Doveston, M. 288 Drew, M. 154 Drummond, T. 178 Dumas, J. 210 Dunlap, G. 172 Dunn, J. 186 Dunne, S. 53 Durlak, J. 126, 128, 188, 193 Durston, S. 62, 219 Dweck, C. 186 Dworet, D. 75 Dwyfor Evans, J. 71 Dyson, A. 23, 60 Earl, K. 162 Eber, L. 179 Eccles, J. 306 Ecclestone, K. 135, 195 Economist, The 325 Eddy, J. 310 Edelbrock, C. 162, 164 Eden, R. 296 Edmunds, L. 163 Edwards, E. 42 Edwards, C. 244 Egger, H. 146, 147, 148, 149 Einfeld, S. 148 Eith, C. 211 Elias, M. 256 Elliott, S. 179 Ellis, J. 226 Ellis, S. 288, 332 Emblem, B. 227 Embry, D. 308, 311 Emerson, E. 147, 148 Engel, G. 89 Epstein, M. 76 Erickson, K. 227 Ervin, R. 119, 171, 174 ESRI (Economic, Social and Research Institute, Trinity College, Dublin) 247 Essex, M. 100 ETUCE 330 Evans, G. 99 Evans, J. 184 Ewing, L. 119 Eyberg, S. 307, 309 Eyres, I. 299 Ezell, M. 212 Farrell, P. 72, 140, 141, 188 Farrington, D. 49, 209, 212 Faupel, A. 136, 254–60 Feeney, T. 222

Author index

Feldman, R. 118 Fernandez DeLuca, S. 62 Ferrer-Wreder, L. 307, 309 Field, S. 177 Fielding, M. 247, 251 Fine, M. 247 Fisak, B. 127 Fitzgerald, D. 150 Fletcher, J. 156 Fletcher-Campbell, F. 186 Flutter, J. 247 Flynn, P. 135, 246–53 Ford, T. 126 Forgatch, M. 306, 308, 310 Forness, S. 15, 36, 81 Fortin, L. 210 Fossati, A. 52 Foucault, M. 34, 46 Fovet, F. 241 Fox, L. 326 Franks, G. 277 Franz, J. 315, 316 Fraser, N. 248 Frederickson, N. 142, 143, 144 Fredrickson, B. 256 Freebody, P. 44 Freese, J. 92 Freiberg, J. 44 Freud, S. 87, 256 Freyberg, T. v. 80 Friedberg, R. 125 Friedrich, M. 155 Friend, M. 189 Frith, U. 89 Frude, N. 257 Fuchs, D. 323 Fuchs, D. 178 Fuchs, L. 178 Fugetta, G. 62 Fullan, M. 91 Gabel, S. 65 Gable, R. 2, 133, 170–76 Gagnon, C. 210 Galloway, D. 213 Galperin, P. 216 Garber, J. 126 Garmezy, N. 185 Garner, J. 163, 269, 270 Garner, P. 136, 305, 330–39 Garside, R. 54 Gawande, A. 325 Gazeley, L. 70 Geake, J. 229 Gecas, V. 69, 73 Geddes, S. 227 Gerhardt, S. 87, 96–103, 147, 229

Ghate, D. 148 Giangreco, M. 324 Giesen, F. 128 Gilbert, P. 97 Giles, D. 162 Gilligan, R. 294 Gillon, G. 156 Gioia, G. 231 Gladwell, M. 322 Glasser, W. 272 Glenny, G. 315, 317, 319 Gliona, M. 77 Glynn, T. 4, 263, 280–87 Goffman, E. 73 Goh, A. 170, 171, 175 Golder, G. 331 Good, T. 114 Goodman, L. 77 Goodman, R. 147, 163, 164, 268, 269 Gopnik, M. 157 Gottfredson, D. 208, 210, 211, 212 Government of Ireland 246 Graham, L. 23, 24, 29, 60 Graham, P. 122 Gray, G. 151, 193, 272 Greenbaum, P. 177 Greenberg, G. 24, 26 Greenberg, M. 151 Greene, R. 117 Greenhalgh, P. 87, 104–11 Gresham, F. 112, 170, 178, 211 Gresham, F. 323 Groom, B. 188 Gross, J. 254 Grubb Institute 109 Guare, R. 230, 231 Guendouzi, J. 154 Gunnar, M. 101 Gureasko-Moore, S. 230 Hacking, I. 41, 44 Haddon, A. 196 HagGerty, R. 126 Haidt, J. 254 Hale, T. 219 Hall, S. 144 Hallahan, D. 15, 19, 23 Hallam, S. 195 Halliday-Boykins, C. 310 Hammack, P. 227 Hamre, B. 265, 266 Hancock, R. 263, 296–302 Hanson, J. 99, 100, 101 Hargreaves, D. 91 Harris, P. 177–83 Harris, P. 323 Harry, B. 60 343

Hart, B. 230 Hart, R. 142 Hartup, W. 324 Harwood, V. 23, 68 Hatton, C. 147, 148 Haug, P. 41 Hawker, D. 209, 212 Hawkins, J. 211 Hayakawa, S. 40 Hayden, C. 12, 48–56 Hayes, D. 135, 195 Hazel, N. 148 Henggeler, S. 89, 179 Henggeler, S. 306, 307, 309 Hernandez, L. 89, 94 Herrenkohl, T. 213 Herz, B. 80 Hester, S. 41, 44 Higgins, S. 276 Hirschhorn, L. 109, 110 Hjorne, E. 12, 40–47 HMIe (Scotland) 58, 64 HMSO 48 Hoagwood, K. 306, 311 Holland, K. 115 Holowenko, H. 230 Holt, A. 53 Horner, R. 172, 173, 178 Horowitz, J. 126 Horwath, J. 313, 316, 317 House of Commons 48 House of Commons Education Select Committee 334 Howard, S. 188 Howe, T. 71 Huddart, P. 314, 317 Huey, S. 310 Hulusi, H. 144 Humphrey, N. 151, 194, 195, 196, 198 Hymans, M. 257

Johnston-Brooks, C. 227 Jones, K. 288 Juel, C. 323 Jull, S. 75 Jung, C. 108

Illsley, P. 318 Irvine, J. 282

Kakos, M. 87, 89–95 Kalambouka, A. 184 Kaminski, J. 310, 311 Kamps, D. M. 173, 174 Kaplow, J. 100 Katsiyannis, A. 171 Kauffman, J. 1, 3, 11, 15–21, 23, 36, 76, 171, 177, 323 Kavale, K. 36, 81 Kay, J. 133, 146–53 Kazdin, A. 89, 210, 309 Kelly, C. 316 Kelly, N. 248 Kenny, M. 247 Kern, L. 172, 174, 179 Kerr, M. 113, 115 Kersner, M. 159 Kiernan, K. 146, 148 Kinght, B. 167 Kirby, A. 313, 314 Kirk, S. 24, 26, 29 Klein, J. 122 Klein, M. 106, 300 Klein, P. 118 Kliewer, C.18 Klingner, J. 60 KMK (Kulturministerkonferenz) 75, 76 Knaack, A. 99 Knowles, B. 77, 226, 227 Kochanska, G. 99 Konold, T. 16 Kosnik, C. 331, 334 Kozleski, E. 23, 60 Krassowski, E. 154 Kratochwill, T. 227 Kroeger, S. 187, 190 Kutchins, H. 24, 26, 29

Jacobs, B. 188, 189 Jahnukainen, M. 69 Jahoda, M. 94 James, A. 122 Jamison, K. 18 Janosz, M. 210 Janssens, A. 314 Jelly, M. 248 Jervis-Tracey, P. 317 Johnson, D. 189, 227 Johnson, F. 189 Johnson-Powell, G. 149 Johnston, J. 119

Ladd, G. 265 Lancashire County Council/St Martin’s College 335 Landrum, T. 15, 16, 19, 171, 177 Lane, H. 73 Lane, K. 133, 173, 174, 177–83, 323 Lapalme, M. 270 Lauchlan, F. 139 Laurence, J. 23 Lave, J. 284 Layard, R. 186 Leadbetter, J. 133, 138–45 LeDoux, J. 255

344

Author index

Lee, A. 269 Leonard, L. 154 Lerman, D. 119 Levin, B. 247 Levine, B. 219 Lewis, C. 189 Lewis, T. 227 Lindsay, G. 60, 148, 154 Lingard, R. 27 Linnenbrink, E. 187, 188, 190 Lipsey, M. 212, 324 Litman, C. 119 Ljusberg, A. 42 Lloyd Smith, M. 71 Lloyd, G. 62, 70 Lodge, A. 135, 246–53 Loeber, R. 49 Long, R. 135, 226–36 Lord, C. 155 Losen, D.24 Lovering, K. 323 Loxley, A. 41, 44 Luckman, T. 45 Lundahl, B. 307, 309, 310 Lunt, I. 184 Lupien, S. 227 Lupton, R. 61 Luria, A. 216, 218, 219 Lynch, K. 247, 248, 249 Lyon, G. 181 Maag, J. 112, 119, 17 MacBeath, J. 184 MacDonald, G. 144 MacFarlane, S. 281, 285 Machinskaya, R. 219 MacLean, P. 254 Macleod, G. 12, 62, 68–74 MacMillan, S. 81 Mahony, T. 228 Maich, K. 75 Maines, B. 167, 272 Majors, R. 282, 283 Manjoo, F. 17 Manz, P. 179 Marris, P. 110 Marshall, T. 149 Martin, D. 51, 159 Maslow, A. 87, 255 Masten, A. 184, 185 Mathai, J. 164 Matseuda, R. 69 Mattison, R. 323 Matza, D. 73 Maxwell, C. 146, 151 Mazurek, K. 81 McCallum, D. 23

McCloskey, G. 229, 230 McClure, J. 125 McCluskey, G. 12, 57–67 McGrath, P. 310 McIntosh, K. 171, 173, 174, 175 McIntyre, D. 247, 248 McKinnon, J. 229 McNess, E. 276 McSherry, J. 133, 61–169 McVeity, M. 118 McVie, S. 50 McWhirter, J. 227 Mead, G. 272 Mehan H. 40, 44 Meichenbaum, D. 222 Meltzer, B. 69 Mensah, F. 146, 148 Mental Health Foundation of Australia 186 Menzies Lyth, I. 109, 110 Menzies, H. 177–83 Mercer, J. 41 Merrell, K. 76 Merry, S. 126 Merttens, R. 296 Messer, D. 159 Meyer, D. 156 Miller, A. 138 Miller, P. 216 Miller, D. 159 Ministere de l’education, du loisir et du sport, 323 Ministry of Education (New Zealand) 281, 282 Miranda, A. 230 Mirsky, A. 218 Mockford, C. 310 Moller, J. 114 Monck, E. 164 Monsen, J. 142, 143 Mooney, P. 179 Morein-Zamir, S. 90 Moreno, G. 171 Moreno, J. 272 Morgan, R. 48, 49 Morgeson, F. 322 Morris, A. 277 Morris, R. 177 Morrison, T. 313, 316, 317 Mosley, J. 91, 263, 272–79 Moyer, K. 256 Mrazek, P. 126 Muijs, D. 60, 185 Mulligan, J. 210 Munn, P. 70 Munro, E. 6 Myers, C. 115 Myschker, N. 81 Mytton, J. 213 345

Nathan, L. 156 National Behaviour Support Service (Ireland) 247 National Center for Educational Statistics (USA) 109 National Children’s Strategy (Ireland) 247 National Educational Psychology Service (Ireland) 247 National Institute for Clinical Health and Excellence (NICE) (UK) 12, 33, 34, 37, 122 Neal, A. 127 Neef, N. 114 Neel, R. 171, 173 Neill, S. 299 Neiman, S. 17, 18 Nelson, C. 113, 115, 119 Nelson, J. 119, 170, 173, 177, 323 Neumann, O. 218 Newcomer, L. l. 227 Newton, C. 273 Niwano, J. 263, 272–79 Nordstrom S. 41 Norman, D. 218 Norwich, B. 29, 65, 69, 89, 184, 248 NSCDC (National Scientific Council on the Developing Child) 146, 147, 149, 150 Nurture Group Network, 269 Oakes, W. 177–83 O’Brien, T. 331 O’Connor, B. 305, 313–21 O’Connor, C. 62 O’Connor, T. 96, 269 Ofsted (Office for Standards in Education, England) 35, 136, 184, 226, 269, 276, 277, 282, 288, 335 Ogden, T. 305, 306–12 O’Hara, K. 144 Oland, L. 144 O’Leary, K. 112 Olweus, D. 209, 210, 211 Opp, G. 75 O’Regan, F. 184, 189 Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development 58, 75, 330, 331 Osborne, J. 282 Osler, A. 62 Palmblad, E. 41 Palmer, S. 227 Parent, G. 324 Park, J. 135, 193–207 Park, K. 173 Parsons, C. 28, 184, 189 Paterson, L. 59 Patterson, C. 300 Patterson, G. 91, 306, 307, 308, 310 346

Pavey, S. 331 Pavlov, I. 87 Payne, A. 211 Payne, L. 173 Payne, R. 256 Pear, J. 227 Pearce, C. 227 Pearson Education 178, 179 Pearson, S. 332 Pelham, W. 34 Pellegrini, A. 38 Pennington, B. 219 Perry, B. 229 Petras, J. 69 Philips, M. 330 Pianta, R. 185, 186, 187, 188, 265, 266 Pickett, K. 23 Pintrich, P. 187, 188, 190 Plante, E. 154 Plomin, R. 89 Polanzyk, G. 32 Polat, F. 72 Pollak, S. 100 Porteous, M. 163 Porter, L. 87, 112–21, 133 Posner, M. 218 Powell, L. 164 Powell, S. 330, 332 Powell, M. 68 Preuss, U. 77 Purdie, N. 90 Pylaeva, N. 219, 221 Pyles, D. 349 113 Rabinow, P. 25 Ramchandani, P. 149 Rampton, A. 281 Ramseyer, F. 258 Ravens-Sieberer, U. 76, 77 Redford, M. 318 Redl, F. 4 Reed, J. 332 Rees, P. 185 Reid, J. 307 Reid, R. 170, 173, 177 Reinke, W. 119 Reiser, H. 78, 80, 81 Restorative Practices Development Team (Waikato University, New Zealand) 284 Reyno, S. 310 Reynolds, C. 216 Reynolds, D. 185 Reynolds, J. 313, 314, 317 Reynolds, S. 269 Rice, M. 157 Richey, D. 113, 119 Riddell, S. 12, 57–67

Author index

Riley, K. 70 Risley, T. 230 Ritzer, G. 69 Rizvi, F. 27 Roberts, S. 208 Roberts, H. 146, 149 Roberts, R. 76 Robertson, J. 239 Robinson, C. 248 Robinson, G. 167 Robinson, G. 272 Rogers, B. 135, 237–45 Rogers, C. 272, 294 Roland, E. 213 Romine, C. 216 Roper-Marshall, H. 289 Rose, N. 24, 25, 26, 29 Rose, R. 188, 247, 248, 263, 288–95 Rose, S. 12, 22, 25, 26, 87 Rothbart, M. K. 218 Rothland, M. 76 Rouse, M. 331 Rowe, S. 50 Roy, P. 34 Royer, E. 210, 305, 322–320 Rudduck, J. 247, 248, 251 Rushton, A. 164 Rutter, M. 49, 91, 118, 155, 163, 164, 185, 227 Ryan, R. 116, 119, 186 Sachs, J. 26 Sahakian, B. 90 Saljo, R. 40–47 Salmivalli, C. 109, 211 Salmon, G. 313, 314, 317 Sanchez, M. 101 Sanders, T. 269 Sasso, G. 171 Sawyer, M. 127 Schaarsmidt, U. 76 Schaneveldt, R. 156 Schneider, J. 35 Schoenwald, S. 311 Scholes, J. 144 Schore, A. 97 Schore, J. 97 Schostak, S. 92 Schuller, T. 134 Schulte-Markwort, M. 76 Schwartz, S. 134 Schweigert, F. 284 Sciutto, M. 323 Scott, K. 269 Scott, T. 173, 174 Scottish Children’s Reporters Administration 63 Scottish Executive 65 Scottish Executive 65, 313

Scottish Government 58, 59, 61, 62, 63, 64 Scottish Government 146 Sellman, E. 68, 72, 248, 251, 326 Sen, A. 134 Sendorek, R. 298 Sennett, R. 27 Seth-Smith, F. 269 Sewell, T. 282 Shallice, T. 218 Shapiro, E. 227 Sharp, S. 209 Shaw, K. 277 Shereshevsky, G. 135, 216–215 Sheridan, M. 102 Shevlin, M. 135, 246–53 Shinn, M. 178 Shives, L. 255 Shortt, A. 127 Shucksmith, J. 126, 151 Simonoff, E. 317, 318, 319 Skinner, B. F. 87 Skinner, C. 113 Slee, R. 12, 13, 22–31, 62 Smith, A. 68 Smith, D. 50, 227 Smith, D.J. 251 Smith, J. 212, 213 Smith, P. 209, 213, 333 Smith, R. 185, 190 Snow, C. 230 Social Exclusion Unit 49, 51, 52 Soloman, E. 54 Solomon, D. 186 Sousa, D. 229 Speake, J. 159 Spence, S. A850127 Spratt, T. 317 Squires, G. 139 St James Roberts, I. 294 Stabile, M. 147 Stallard, P. 4, 87, 122–29 Star, S. 40 Steer, A. 64, 247 Stephenson, M. 51, 54 Sterling-Turner, H. 115 Stern, M. 89 Stewart-Brown, S. 99, 163, 164 Stobart, G. 28 Storey, K. 322 Stott, D. 174 Stuhlman, M. 266 Stuss, D. 218 Sugai, G. 171, 174, 178, 323 Sure Start 146 Swann, Lord 281 Sweller, N. 24 Sykes, G. 73 347

Tait, G. 23 Tangen, R. 68, 248 Taylor, A. 73 Taylor, C. 248 Taylor, E. 34 Taylor, G. 273 Teacher Development Agency 331, 332, 333 Terzi, L. 24 Tettenborn, M. 313, 314, 315 Tew, M. 135, 193–207, 276 Thomas, G. 1, 41, 44 Thomas, M. 163, 269, 270 Thompson, F. 213 Thompson, R. 119, 254 Tickell, C. 147 Tiknaz, Y. 267, 268 Tippping, S. 147, 148 Tod, J. 226, 330, 332 Tomlinson, S. 61 Tommerdahl, J. 133, 154–60, 323 Topping, K. 77 Torgesen, J. 323 Tottenham, N. 102 Tourquet, P. 110 Tremblay, R. 100 Troutman, A. 112, 114 Tschacher, W. 258 Ttofi, M. 209 Turkington, R. 330 Turton, A. 172

Valsiner, J. 41 Van Acker, R. 171, 173 van Houten, R. 113 Verkuyten, M. 41 Vettenburg, N. 208 Visser, J. 1–7, 11–14, 87–88, 133–37, 163, 186, 189, 196, 263, 305, 331 Vitaro, F. 210 Voeten, M. 109, 211 von Bertalanffy, L. 89 Vorndran, C. 119 Voss, L. 210 Vossekuil, B. 109 Vygotsky, L. 5, 135, 216, 217, 218, 219

Wald, J. 24 Walker, H. 76, 81, 177, 181, 211 Walsh, D. 185, 186 Walsh, J. 89 Warr-Leeper, G. 155 Washbrook, E. 148 Watanabe, N. 122 Watkins, C. 188, 189 Watling, R. 75 Watson, T. 115 Watts, V. 244 Waxman, H. 186 Waylen, A. 99 Weare, K. 151, 193, 272, 333 Wearmouth, J. 4, 263, 280–87 Weber, C. 155 Webster, R. 263 Webster-Stratton, C. 152 Weersing, V. 310 Wehmeyer, M. 177 Weis, L. 247 Weisz, J. 122, 309, 310 Weizman, Z. 230 Wells, A. 193 Welsh Assembly Governmnent 313, 314 Welsh, B. 212 Wenger, E. 281, 283, 284 Wentzell, K. 188 Werner, E. 185, 190 Werning, R. 81 Wheeler, J. 113, 119 Whitaker, D. 110 Whitaker, R. 35 Whitbourne, S. 89 White, M. 272 Whitebread, D. 91, 165, 268, 269 Widom, C. 100 Wilkin, A. 186 Wilkinson, R. 23 Williams, H. 134, 167 Willmann, M. 3, 13, 75–83 Willms, J. 188 Willoughby, M. 149 Wills, H. 172, 173 Wilson, D. 273 Wilson, S. 212 Winnicott, D. 107, 300 Wismer Fries, A. 100 Wolff, A. 80 Wommack, J. 227 Wong-Lo, M. 2, 133, 170–76 Wood, F. 276 World Health Organisation 32 Wright, J. 159 Wyatt, J. 119

Wagner, M. 75, 173, 177

Yamamoto, J. 149

Ullman, M. 157 Umbreit, J. 180 Ungar, M. 314, 318, 320 United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child 247, 248 Upton, G. 94, 331 US Center for Disease Control 34 US Department of Education 32 US Public Health Service 126

348

Author index

Ylvisaker, M. 220, 222 Youdell, D. 24 Young, I. 248, 249 Youth Justice Board/Ministry of Justice 50, 52, 54

Zarcone, J. 114 Zelazo, P. 216 Zeldin, S. 294 Zirpoli, T. 114, 115

349

Subject index

2020 Vision 136–37 ‘ABC of behaviour’; see ‘behaviourist approach/ theory’ ADHD (attention deficit hyperactivity disorder) 1, 2, 4, 11, 12, 23, 28, 29, 32–38, 41, 42, 43, 44, 46, 49, 52, 57, 58, 67, 68, 93, 96, 122, 146, 147, 148, 162, 171, 216, 219, 230, 249, 250, 286, 314; ‘ADHD friendly pedagogy’ 93; economic costs of 33; ‘pseudo-ADHD’ 37, 43; prevalence rates 33 AFASIC 159 AIMsweb 178 ASD: see autistic spectrum disorders aboriginal pupils 60 Achenbach Child Behavior Checklist 162, 163, 164, 177 accreditation, importance of 136 ‘acting out’ see behaviour ‘active listening’ 258 adrenaline 255 additional support needs (Scotland) 58, 59, 60, 61, 63; see also special educational needs affective volitional basis (AVB, Vygotsky) 218 Afro-Caribbean boys and EBD 23, 53, 60, 62, 148, 281 Aggressive Incident Model 257 Allen Report (2011) (England) 146, 152 alternative provision 72; see also ‘behaviour/special units/bases’ and ‘PRUs’ American Psychiatric Association 1, 15, 93 amygdala 98, 99, 100 anger, understanding and responding to … 5, 52, 90, 124, 136, 189, 250, 251, 254–59; body posture, language and space 258–59; ‘firework model’ 257; triggers 257 ‘Antecedents of behaviour’ see ‘behaviourist approach/theory’ Antidote Progress Programme (APP) 196 anti-psychiatry movement 34 anti-social behaviour 49, 100, 163, 171, 294, 307, 309 anxiety 2, 16, 101, 106, 107, 124, 127, 128, 175 350

Aotearoa New Zealand 280–86 applied behaviour analysis 87, 112–20, 180; critique of ABA 115–20; see also ‘behaviourist approach/theory’ and ‘functional behaviour analysis’ Asperger’s Syndrome 41; see also ‘autistic spectrum disorder’ assertiveness building 274 assessment 79, 133, 138–45, 161–68, 196; analogue 173–74; baseline 162, 168, 197; context/factors influencing 161–62; delays 316; formative assessment 137; multi-agency 314, 315; tools 147, 162, 163–68, 177, 178, 231, 268, 269, 307, 309; see also ‘Functional Behavior Analysis’ attachment theory/difficulties 87, 96, 97, 99, 100, 122, 144, 147, 229, 265, 266 attention difficulties 32, 33, 216–23, 227, 230, 232, 233; see also ADHD Australia 60, 81, 127, 270, 305, 317 autistic spectrum disorders 16, 58, 59, 63, 148, 239 BESD: see ‘EBD’ ‘bad boys and sick girls’ 77; see ‘gender and EBD’ Baselining 133, 162, 168, 197, 227; see also ‘assessment’. basic skills, lack of literacy/numeracy; see ‘EBD’ Behavioral Intervention Plan (BIP) 170, 171, 175; see also ‘individual behaviour plan’ ‘behavioral kernels’ 311 behaviour; ‘acted in’/internalised 2, 11, 16, 53, 77, 99, 149, 174, 177, 181, 227, 247; ‘acted out’/externalised 2, 16, 52, 72, 100, 104, 174, 247; aggressive/violent 52, 53, 177, 250, 256, 298, 308; disruption in class 28, 71, 91, 118, 119, 150, 164, 171, 237, 246, 250, 256, 298, 331; inhibition 229; management in class 63, 142, 150, 226–34, 237–44, 330, 332, 333; myth of ever-worsening behaviour 331; promoting positive/desired 179; routines/ structures lessen EBD 238; see also ‘ADHD’,

Subject index

‘Applied Behaviour Analysis’, ‘behaviour and learning intertwined’, ‘behaviourist approach/ theory’, ‘classroom practice’, ‘defence mechanisms’, ‘definitions of EBD’, ‘Functional Behavior Analysis’, ‘positive behaviour support/ management’, ‘routines/structures/boundaries’ ‘Behaviour4Learning’ 332, 333 behaviour and attendance national strategies, English government’s 337 behaviour and learning intertwined 148, 228, 327, 331 ‘behaviour environment’, checking the … 94, 227 ‘Behaviour Rating Inventory of Executive Functions’ (BRIEF) 231 behaviour support/consultation services 78, 80, 178, 247 behaviour support/prevention teachers 78, 79, 285 behaviour support units 63; see also ‘special units/ bases/resource centres’ behaviourist approach/theory 87, 90, 91, 112–20, 133, 142, 167, 180, 227, 306, 307, 311; ‘ABC of behaviour’ (antecedents, behaviour, consequences) 172, 173, 174, 180, 227; antecedents adjustment 90, 113, 180; consequences 118; criticisms of behaviourist approach 115–20; extinction 180; fading 113, 180; ignoring 307; modelling 113, 239; observation and recording 112; punishment 115, 119; rewards 142, 227, 311; rules 142; positive re-inforcement 87, 113, 114, 142, 180, 212, 227, 307; shaping 113; six phases of 112–14; time-out 243, 244, 311; see also ‘Applied Behaviour Analysis’ Belgium 314 belonging, sense of … 70, 72, 101, 102, 188, 255, 257, 269, 283; see ‘needs of children’ benevolent intervention, marginalising … 57 bereavement counselling 145 Better Behaviour Better Learning (Scotland) 65 Beyondblue 127 biochemistry of brain: see ‘brain development’ bioeconomics 26 biopolitics 27 biopsychosocial perspective 4, 5, 12, 23, 24, 26, 29, 38, 87, 89–94, 141, 141, 190 boundary setting: see ‘routines/structures/ boundaries’ Bowlby, J. 107, 265, 300 Boxall, Marjorie 264, 266, 270 Boxall Profile 163, 164–65, 167, 269 brain, development of … 87, 96–102, 136, 147, 218, 227; bio-chemicals and … 97; frontal lobes 218, 219, 229, 230; key areas of brain diagram 98; memory 219; plasticity 90; pruning synapses 96; three part brain (reptilian, mammalian, rational/neo-cortex) 254; see also

‘cortex’, ‘neurotransmitters’ and ‘synaptic connections’ Brazil 330 Bronfenbrenner, U. 4, 23, 89, 94, 147, 305, 307 Bruner, J. 280, 283 buddy systems 188 bullying 53, 91, 92, 100, 177, 188, 208, 209, 210, 256, 285, 286 CAMHS: see ‘child and adolescent mental health services’ CHADD (Children and Adults with ADHD) 29 CI3T: see ‘Comprehensive Integrated 3 Tier Model’ ‘CLASI’ (‘capable, listened to, accepted, safe, included’) 135, 196–206 Canada 75, 81, 264, 305, 318, 323, 324 Capital (bio) 26; (cultural) 26; (human) 134; (identity) 134; (social) 42, 134 Cascade model of service provision 77; see also ‘patterns/range of provision/services’ carers 292, 318 categorisation 1, 11, 15–20, 22–30, 35, 40, 42, 44, 46, 59, 75, 177; see also ‘labelling’. child abuse/neglect 90, 91, 100, 122, 147, 313, 317 Child Behavior Checklist (Achenbach); see ‘Achenbach Child Behaviour Checklist’ child development and EBD 4, 87, 96–102, 149, 216–23, 306–11; adolescence 306; emotional involvement in social interaction 218; language development 268, 274; toddlers, pre-school and primary 4, 149 child guidance clinics 81; see also ‘educational psychology’ and ‘psychologists’ child protection 6, 313; see also ‘child abuse/ neglect’ child and adolescent mental health services 4, 81, 122–28, 150, 154, 256, 313, 314, 316, 320 Children Act, England (2004) 10, 110, 297 Children’s centres (England) 151 Children’s Hearing System (Scotland) 58, 63 Children’s homes/secure homes 54; see also ‘residential education/care’ children in public care: see ‘looked after children’ choices in classroom 242 circle of friends 273 circles of support 5, 263, 272–78 circle time 263, 272–78; five step model 274–76 classification: see ‘categorization’ classroom practice 63, 133, 136–37, 173, 226–34, 237–44, 333; clear consequences 242; directed choices 242; direction giving 240; flexible timetables/work schedules 137, 212; humour 241; leadership in classroom 238; ‘learning how to learn’ 137; ‘least to most intrusive principle’ 243; non-verbal cues 240; prompts 173; 351

Subject index

physical proximity 173; project work 137; questioning, use of 243; rules and routines 238, 275; time out 243, 244; see also ‘behaviour’, ‘collaborative learning’, ‘curriculum and EBD’, ‘EBD’, ‘routines/structures/boundaries’, ‘talking and listening to children’, ‘teaching and learning’ and ‘voice/views,listening to pupil … ‘climate, school; see ‘ethos, school’ co-location of services 313, 314 co-morbidity of behaviour and other difficulties 133, 154, 177; see also ‘definitions/nature of EBD’ Co-ordinated Support Plans (Scotland) 61 Coalition Government, UK (2010) 49, 333 Code of Practice, 2001 SENs: see SEN Code of Practice cognitive behavioural approaches/therapy 87, 88, 90, 93, 122–28, 142, 144, 151, 167, 213, 308, 311; cognitive model (diagram) 123; core beliefs 122, 123; distorted thinking 92, 122; negative automatic thoughts (‘NATs’) 88, 123, 123, 124, 125, 136; self-talk 124; thinking, emotions and feelings 123 cognitive executive skills: see ‘executive functions/ skills’ cognitive functioning 90 collaborative learning/working, importance of 5, 187, 189, 190, 211, 212, 213 Columbine High School massacre 208, 257 communicating with children with EBD 5, 135, 237–44; communication difficulties 5, 133, 154–59; see also speech, language and communication needs’ and ‘language, use of’ compliance culture of professionals 6 Comprehensive Integrated 3 Tier Model (CI3T) 134, 177–81; see also ‘Staged Intervention’ and ‘Framework for Intervention’ Community of Practice framework 281, 283 ‘conditional probability’ and FBA 170 conduct disorders 1, 2, 11, 16, 41, 49, 52, 89, 100, 147; see also ‘behaviour’ and ‘EBD’ Connors Rating Scales 162 consequences in class 242 consulting children: see ‘voice, pupil’ ‘contagion’/‘contamination’ (peer group) 3, 109, 329 continuing professional development (CPD) 5, 181, 227, 305, 322–27, 324, 330–38; see also ‘teacher education/training’ context influencing EBD/behaviour 4, 5, 11, 12, 52, 91, 138, 143, 162, 168, 171, 185, 227, 231–34, 266, 306 ‘cool pose theory’ 283 Coping in Schools Scale (McSherry) 163, 165, 166, 167 cortex (neo-cortex) 97, 98, 100, 102, 254; see also ‘frontal lobes’ and ‘brain development’ 352

cortisol (the stress hormone) 87, 96, 97, 100, 255 Council for Exceptional Children (USA) 36 counselling 79, 81, 91, 142, 251 cultural dissononce 238, 282 culturalism 280 culturally responsive approaches 280–86; see also ‘ethnicity and EBD’ curriculum and EBD 28, 64, 136–37, 179; child-centred 188; enhancing engagement in schooling 65, 185, 187, 188, 206, 251; effective delivery of 136–37; flexibility/responsiveness to individuals 136–37, 187, 212, 213; low/high expectations 135, 185; practical rather than abstract 188; social skills 179; see also ‘classroom practice’, ‘teaching and learning’ Currie Report (Scotland) 2002 139 cyberbullying 209 DAMP (deficit, attention and motor control problems) 42 DSM – IV (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual) categories 1, 16, 29, 32, 52 DSM – V 20 daily routines/life-space used as therapy 3 ‘Dance of Escalating Adult Coercion and Child Defiance’ 117 defence mechanisms 87, 104, 105, 256; see also ‘psychodynamic approach/theory’ definitions/nature of EBD/BESD/SEBD/ED/ ESD/SED 1, 6, 11–12, 16, 35–37, 76, 138, 146, 149, 246; see also ‘EBD’ delinquency, juvenile: see ‘youth crime/offending’ denial 105; see also ‘defence mechanisms’ and ‘psychodynamic approaches/theory’ Department for Children, Schools and Families (England) 11, 13, 227 Department for Education (England) 11, 195 Depressed mood/depression in children 2, 11, 16, 18, 53, 63, 124, 126, 175, 227, 258; in parents 310 deprivation: see ‘poverty’, ‘socio-economic status’ diagnostics: see ‘assessment’, ‘categorisation’, ‘labelling’ and ‘widening spectrum of EBD’ disaffection/disengagement 50, 65, 70, 145, 184, 189, 198, 206, 248, 282, 288; see also ‘behaviour’ disciplinary style (guidance cf behaviourist) 118 discipline in schools 1, 63, 247; see also ‘applied behaviour analysis’, ‘behaviour’, ‘classroom practice’, ‘behaviourist approaches/theory’ displacement (defence mechanism) 256 ‘dispositions’ (compared to ‘skills’) and learning 228 distorted thought patterns: see cognitive behaviourist approaches. distortion 105; see ‘psychodynamic approach/ theory’

Subject index

doctors 32, 317 ‘do-review-learn-apply’ cycle 5 dopamine 96 drop-in centres, multi-agency 314, 318 drug abuse: see ‘substance abuse’ dyslexia 41, 250; see also ‘reading difficulties lead to EBD’ EBD/SEBD/BESD/ED/ESD/SED 28, 75–82; academic/school attainment (low) and … 52, 54, 61, 64, 65, 76, 101, 331; biological reasons for 2, 37; see also ‘biopsychosocial’; characteristics of; see ‘definitions/nature of EBD’; curriculum for; see ‘curriculum and EBD’; emotional reasons for 2, 35–36, 172, 177, 216; environmental reasons for 11, 37, 146, 171; ethnicity; see ‘ethnicity and EBD’; extent of/identification rates/prevalence 13, 15, 51, 76; gender and; ‘gender and EBD’; history; see ‘history of EBD’; identification of; see ‘assessment’; life-paths/trajectories of 2, 24; mental health difficulties and … ; see ‘mental health’; numeracy diffuculties 61; patterns of provision/range of services for; see ‘patterns/ range of provision/services’; pupil perceptions of 68–73; reading/literacy difficulties – ‘reading difficulties lead to EBD’; SENs, and; see ‘special education’; social reasons for 2, 12, 26, 37, 52, 58, 76, 136, 149, 150, 216, 306–11; speech, language and communication difficulties; see ‘speech and language; difficulties’; underlying causes 165; see also ‘biopsychosocial approach’, ‘ecosystemic approach/theory’, ‘psychodynamic approach/ theory’; unhappiness and despair 135; youth offending and … ; see ‘youth crime/ offending’; see also ‘parenting’, ‘poverty’, ‘social disadvantage’ and ‘socio-economic status’ EPSEN Act (2004) (Ireland) 246 ‘early action/action plus’ 150 early years 146–52, 172 early intervention 81, 133, 146, 147, 150, 322–23, 325 eating disorders 16, 58, 63 ecological theory 4, 37, 89, 305, 306, 307 ecosystemic approach/theory 4, 5, 37, 89, 91, 138, 305, 306 Education Acts–England: (1944) 35; (1981) 35; (1996)13, 35 educational psychology/ists 133, 138–45; principles guiding practice 140; levels of intervention 142; see also ‘psychologists’ ‘effectiveness factors’ in schools 91 emotional blocks 104 emotional development 97, 104–11 ‘emotional first aid’ 3 ‘emotional holding’ 87, 104, 106

emotional intelligence/literacy 91, 139, 188, 272 emotional problems 149, 173, 177; see also ‘behaviour’ and ‘EBD’ emotional (self) regulation 87, 96, 97, 99, 101, 102, 135, 147, 185, 188, 218, 219, 229, 230, 255, 256, 266, 274 emotions, good and bad … 254 emotions and motivation 255 empathy 274, 294 Environment for Learning Survey (ELS) 201 environmental factors and EBD 11, 92, 171; see also ‘EBD’ environmental therapy 3 essential knowledge/understanding for ‘EBD’ professionals 322–27 ethnicity and EBD 4, 53, 70, 149, 248, 263, 280, 281, 282; over-representation of some groups 5, 23, 148, 281, 282 ethos (school climate) 50, 53, 72, 134, 136, 162, 193–206, 209, 211, 257 euphemistic labels and EBD 18, 20 ‘Every Child Matters’ (English government strategy) 146, 152, 297, 332 evidence-based practice 3, 170–75, 338; see also ‘assessment’ examinations/accreditation 196 Excellence in Cities programe (England) 288 exclusion – school 1, 2, 27, 28, 49, 51, 53, 54, 54, 63, 64, 70, 71, 75, 170, 171, 184, 189, 263, 264, 281, 283, 293, 299, 317; social 28, 49, 54, 55, 65, 134, 147, 184, 248, 263, 294 executive functions/ skills (brain) 135, 216–23, 229 Eyberg’s Parent Child Interaction Therapy 307, 309 FBI (Federal Bureau of Investigation) 209 FRIENDS (CBT programme) 127, 144 families and family difficulties/support: see ‘parents’ feelings, thinking and behaviour: see also ‘cognitive behavioural approaches/therapy’ feelings, control of … 232; See ‘emotional regulation’ fight, flight, freeze or flock responses 97, 255 Finland 69, 81 ‘First Steps to Success’ 172 ‘flow’, psychological 188: see positive psychology force, use of reasonable … (physical restraint) 333 foster care 81, 316, 318 Foucault 24, 34, 46 Framework for Intervention 134 free school meals (poverty indicator) 54 Freud, Sigmund 87, 256 ‘frugality’ and essential EBD knowledge 322 Full continuum model of service provision 75–82; see also ‘patterns/range of provision/services’ Functional Assessment Checklist (McIntosh) 174 353

Subject index

Functional Behavior Analysis 133, 170–75, 179, 180; as cornerstone of practice 171; difficulties with 171, 173, 174 GIRFEC (Getting It Right for Every Child) (Scotland) 58 GCSE (General Certificate of Secondary Education) (England,Wales, Northern Ireland) 196 gangs 144 gender and EBD 4, 12, 52, 53, 60–63, 77, 148, 323 gender and social deprivation 60–63 Germany 3, 13, 75–82 girls and EBD 63, 77; see also ‘gender and EBD’ guidance, English government; on EBD 11, 149, 150, 227; on behaviour/discipline in schools 333 guidance compared to behaviourist approach 118 gypsies/Roma/travellers 53, 60, 148 handling negative emotions: see ‘anger, understanding and responding to … ’ happiness, promoting/teaching health teams, school (Sweden) 42, 43 helplessness, ‘learned’/ feelings of … 189 Her Majesty’s Inspectorate Education (HMIE) (Scotland) 58, 64 high expectations, importance of … 185, 327 hippocampus 98, 99, 102 history of EBD and special education 3, 35, 40–41, 58, 71, 73, 80, 81, 246, 251, 265, 297, 332 home visits 151, 213 hormones 96, 255; see also ‘neurotransmitters’ and ‘brain development’ hui whakatika (restorative approaches) 281, 284 humanist approach/theory: see ‘needs of children’ humour in class 241 hyperactivity; see ‘ADHD’ and ‘attention difficulties’ ICD-10 (World Health Organisation’s) 32 IDEA (Individuals with Disabilities Education Act) 37 image and metaphor, use of … 104, 108–9 ‘Importance of Teaching’, the (English government policy document) 333 impulsivity: see ‘ADHD’ in-service training: see ‘continuing professional development’ and ‘teacher education/training’ inattention: see ‘ADHD’ inclusive education and EBD 1, 4, 13, 27, 29, 38, 50, 53, 64, 65, 69, 75–82, 134, 178, 179, 180, 186, 187, 189, 246, 264, 299, 324, 326, 330, 331, 336 ‘Incredible Years’ (Webster-Stratton) 152, 307 individual behaviour plan 239; see also ‘Behavioral Improvement Plan’ 354

individual education plan (IEP) 44, 62, 71, 79 infant determinism 87 inter-agency/inter-disciplinary working: see ‘multi-professional/agency working’ and ‘wraparound services’ internal working model 265 internalisation 217 interventions 163; targeted 151; see ‘applied behaviour analysis’, ‘assessment’, ‘classroom practice’, ‘cognitve behavioural approaches/ therapy’, ‘Functional Behavior Analysis’, ‘teaching and learning’, ‘whole school approaches’ Ireland 246–51 Japan 270 juvenile crime/delinquency: see ‘youth crime/ offending’ Klein, Melanie 106, 300 labelling 1, 11, 13, 15–20, 22–30, 40–46, 59, 68, 69, 72, 75, 149, 177, 314, 319; advantages of/ need for … 15–20, 40, 46; harm/stigma of … 1, 15, 16, 19, 40, 44, 46, 61, 63, 69, 72, 148, 249; labels as political artefacts 29 Lane, Homer 71, 73 language; staff use of words/style of speaking/ communicating 5, 135, 237–44; children’s: see speech and language difficulties; linguistic elements law breaking: see ‘youth crime/offending’ lead professional (CAF) leadership/management in educational settings 110, 127, 181, 212, 214, 251 learning assistants: see ‘teaching assistants/aides’ learning difficulties/disabilities and EBD 2, 58, 59, 63, 76, 78; see also ‘literacy difficulties’, ‘numeracy difficulties’ ‘least restrictive environment’ 77 ‘life-space interviews’ 3 life-paths/trajectories 2, 34 listening to children’s views 246–51, 298; see also ‘voice, listening to pupil/student … ’ literacy difficulties 61 Little Commonwealth 73 local authorities (LAs – England) locus of control 167 ‘looked after’ children 12, 50, 51, 58, 63, 66, 70, 144, 315, 316 ‘looking glass effect’ 93 Luria, Alexander 216, 219 ‘mainstreaming’: see ‘inclusive education’ maladjustment 11, 35, 37, 252; see also ‘EBD’ Malaysia 330 Malta 264, 270

Subject index

Maori culture 280–86 Marginalisation: see ‘exclusion, social’ marketization of education 12, 28 Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs 87, 255; see ‘needs of children’ massacres in schools 208, 257 Mead, G.H. 68 ‘medical model’ and EBD 93 medicalization of behaviour/special education 12, 26, 34, 46, 62, 53 medication 62, 72, 93 memory 227, 230; see also ‘child development’ mental health; auditing tools for 144; difficulties/ disorders 1, 4, 11, 16, 18, 37, 55, 58, 63, 80, 87, 89, 139, 146, 147, 155, 186, 216, 315; promotion 294; see also ‘well-being, emotional … ’ mentoring 5, 263, 288–94 metacognition 230 metaphor, use of 104, 108, 125 methylphenidate (‘Ritalin’) 12, 90 micro-violence: see ‘violence in schools’ milieux therapy: see ‘environmental therapy’ ‘mindfulness’ approach 4 minority ethnic groups: see ‘ethnicity and EBD’ models/systems of provision/services for EBD; see ‘patterns/range of provision/services’ motivational interviewing 4, 142 multi-professional/agency/disciplinary working 2, 3, 5, 13, 23, 42, 78, 79, 80, 89, 91, 94, 111, 133, 144, 150, 179, 297, 305, 313–20; ethical dilemmas and … 317; obstacles to 313, 314, 315, 315–17; parent perspectives on … 317–18; service navigation and negotiation, Ungar’s 6 principles 319 multi-culturalism 28 multi-systemic (family) therapy 89, 179, 213, 306, 308, 309, 310, 311; see also ‘Parents’ ‘mums’ army’ (teaching assistants) 300 ‘My PAD’ 249, 250, 251 ‘NATs’ (negative automatic thoughts): see ‘cognitive behaviour approaches/therapy’ ‘NEET’ (‘not in education, employment or training’) 2, 7 NICE (National Institute for Clinical Excellence) (UK) 34, 37, 122 narrative therapy 145 National Behaviour Support Service (NBSS) (Ireland) 247 National Children’s Strategy (Ireland) 247 National Services Framework (England and Wales) 313 needs of children/needs theory (belonging, safety, esteem etc) 87, 101, 106, 118, 186, 254, 255 negativity bias 99 ‘neo-special education’ 27, 28

‘neo-Liberal ethics’ 28 ‘Nero syndrome’ 324 ‘net widening’: see ‘widening spectrum of EBD/ special education/disability’ Netherlands 41 New Zealand 81, 263, 264, 270 neurons/ neural pathways 87, 96, 101; see also ‘synaptic connections’ neuro-imaging 87 neuroscience 87, 96, 229 neurological development 90; see also ‘brain development’ neurotransmitters (hormones) 87, 96, 100, 255 non-verbal communication/cues 240; see also ‘Classroom practice’ and ‘speech and language difficulties’ Northern Ireland 297 Norway 81, 305, 306–11 numeracy difficulties 61 Numerical Sequence Method 220–23 nurture groups 5, 64, 91, 144, 165, 263, 264–70, 297; ‘classic’ nurture groups 267; effectiveness of 268–69; principles and organisation 266; secondary schools and … 270; variants on … 268 ODR (office discipline referral) (USA) 178 observation, classroom 143; see also ‘assessment’ obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD) 16, 28 ‘off/on site’ special units: see ‘special units/bases’ and ‘PRUs’ Ofsted (and Her Majesty’s Inspectorate) 35, 136, 196, 226, 268, 277, 282 ‘one-stop shopping’ (for multi-agency services) 319 Open University (UK) 296, 298 oppositional defiant disorder (ODD) 1, 11, 28, 250 ‘optimistically tuned’ teachers 189 Oregon Model of Parent Management Training (PMTO) 306, 308, 309, 310; five dimensions of … 308; see also ‘parents’ Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) 28, 59, 64, 75, 330 organisation of schools: see ‘leadership/ management in schools’ organisation of services: see ‘patterns/range of provision/services’ outreach services (from EBD/ESD schools) 80 oxytocin (the ‘love hormone’) 96, 97, 100 paraprofessionals 5, 79, 172, 263; see also ‘teaching assistants/aides’ parents; family difficulties 2, 53, 55, 91, 147, 150, 181, 185, 239, 265, 315; flawed child-care practice 2, 99, 147, 150, 210, 230, 300; ‘good enough’ 106, 229, 307; home-school schemes 297; home visiting 213; labels, response to 1, 62; mental health problems in 100, 310; 355

Subject index

parenting style 90, 91, 100, 210, 307; parent training programmes 5, 79, 81, 128, 151, 213, 305.306–11; support for 150, 151, 152, 179, 213, 311, 320; working with 5, 79, 211, 285, 292, 296, 306–11, 314, 315, 318, 326 pastoral pedagogy 263, 296–302 patterns/range of provision/services for EBD 13, 57–66, 75–82 Pavlov, Ivan 87 pedagogy and EBD 136–37, 263; see also ‘classroom practice’ and ‘teaching and learning’ Penn Resiliency Programme 127 peer group influences/pressures 90, 310, 324 peer mediation 91 peer mentoring 188, 249 peer support 167, 188 persistence, goal-directed 233 personal construct psychology 142 personal, social and health education (PSHE) 277 personalised learning 136–37; see also ‘individual education plan’ pharmaceutical companies 29, 35 pharmaceutical interventions: see ‘medication’ phonology 156, 158, 217 play 102 politics and EBD/challenging behaviour 1, 15, 24 ‘pop psychology’ 145 Portugal 220 positive behaviour support/management 179, 239, 272, 332 Positive Behavioral Intervention and Support (PBIS) (USA) 174, 178, 181; see also ‘Tiers 1, 2, 3’ positive psychology 4, 256 positive reinforcement: see ‘behaviourist approach/ theory’ and ‘applied behavioural analysis’ post traumatic stress disorder 16 poverty and behaviour/ EBD 49, 52, 53, 54, 55, 57–66, 147, 148, 211, 239, 256, 310 power relations 248–49 pragmatics 157, 158 praise 241, 311 prevention teachers 78 prison 49, 52, 79; see also ‘young offender institutes’ problem analysis framework, six stage 142, 143 projection 105, 106, 107, 316; see ‘psychodynamic approach/theory’ Programme for International Student Assessment (PISA) 28, 59 protective factors 49, 50, 185, 307 provision for EBD: see ‘patterns/range of provision/services’ psychiatrists/psychiatry 18, 46, 76, 78, 81, 91, 314, 315 psychiatric disorders 16, 18, 46, 76, 77, 216; see also ‘mental health’ psychoanalysis 87 356

psychodynamic approach/theory 104–11; see also ‘defence mechanisms’ psychologists 42, 43, 62, 79, 81 psychology/psychological approaches/theories 91 psychostimulants 90; see also ‘medication’ psychotherapists 190 public care, children in … : see ‘looked after children’ Public Law 94–142 (USA) 35 punishment 119, 257, 307, 333; see also ‘behaviourist approaches/theory’, ‘applied behavioural analysis’ pupil referral units (PRUs) 13, 64; see also ‘special units/bases/resource centres’ pupil voice: see voice, listening to pupils’ Quality Circle Time (QCT) 272, 273, 274, 276 Quebec 210, 264, 270, 305, 323 questioning in class, use of … 243 refugee children 145 range of services for EBD: see ‘patterns/range of provision/services’ Re-integration Readiness Scale (McSherry)163, 165, 166 reading difficulties lead to EBD 41, 61, 81, 179, 323, 326; see also ‘dyslexia’, ‘EBD’ and ‘remedial teaching’ reflection by practitioners, need for … 325, 337 ‘regular classrooms’ and EBD: see ‘inclusive education’ relationships, importance of positive/caring 6, 12, 13, 71, 72, 99, 101, 102, 125, 136, 147, 162, 177, 185, 186, 187, 188, 213, 239, 251, 264, 266, 282, 289, 294, 301, 317, 320, 333 remedial teaching 79, 81, 179 residential schools/care 3–4, 54, 71, 72, 78, 79, 81, 316, 318 resilience 93, 94, 96, 102, 151, 185–86, 198, 318, 319; resilience-enhancing classrooms 184–90 resignification 72, 184 response inhibition 231–32 response to intervention (RTI) (USA) 174, 178, 181 restorative practices/approaches 5, 63, 91, 213, 263, 283–86 restrictive physical intervention: see ‘force, use of reasonable … ’ rewarding good behaviour 90; see also ‘behaviourist approach/theory’ risk factors 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 58, 147, 185, 210, 213, 226, 266, 305, 307, 318 ‘Ritalin’ (methylphenidate) 12, 58 Role models, positive 185 routines/structures/boundaries, importance of 107, 238, 266, 310; see also ‘classroom practice’ rules in class 238, 275; see also ‘classroom practice’ Russia 216–23

Subject index

SEAL: see ‘social and emotional aspects of learning’ SEBD: see ‘EBD’ SEBDA (Social, Emotional and Behavioural Difficulties Association) xii SENs: see ‘special education/educational needs’ SEN Code of Practice (DfEE 2001) (England) 53, 149 SENCo (special educational needs co-ordinator) (UK) 150, 249 SLCN/SLD; see ‘speech and language difficulties’ safeguarding children; see ‘child protection’ and ‘child abuse/neglect’ safe, feeling … : see ‘needs of children’ sanctions 90, 227, 217 scaffolding 135, 185, 217 ‘School Action Plus’ (SEN Code of Practice stage) (England) 53, 54 School of Attention (Russia) 219, 220–23 school shooters 209 Scotland 1, 12, 35, 57–66, 68–73, 139, 146, 147, 148, 269, 277, 297, 313, 318 Scottish Index of Multiple Deprivation (SIMD) 61, 62, 64, 66 self concept/image 69, 72, 73, 148, 185, 188, 219, 249, 256, 272, 286 self-esteem 188, 272, 274, 286, 294 self harm 11, 53, 170, 256 semantics 156, 158 serotonin 87, 96, 97, 100, 102 ‘severe emotional disturbance’ (SED) category (USA) 35–36 services organisation for EBD: see ‘patterns/range of provision/services’ shooters: see ‘school shooters’ ‘siloed services’ 319 situation-specific behaviours 143; see also ‘context affecting EBD/behaviour’ Skinner, B.F. 87 ‘smart drugs’ 90 ‘Social and Emotional Aspects of Learning’ programme (England) 135, 139, 151, 193–96, 332, 337; evaluation of … 195–206 Social capital: see ‘capital, social’ Social constructivist position 91, 141 Socio-cultural theory 5 Socio-economic status and EBD 12, 49, 52, 90 Social disadvantage and EBD 2, 12, 49, 52, 53, 54, 55, 57–66, 211, 307, 310; see also ‘poverty’ social exclusion: see ‘exclusion, social’ Social Exclusion Unit (England) 49 social factors explaining EBD 2, 12, 26, 37, 52, 58, 76, 136, 216 social learning theory: see ‘behaviourist approach/ theory’ and ‘applied behavioural analysis’ social pedagogy 78, 80 social skills promotion/training 151, 179, 264, 272–78, 311

social workers/work (welfare) support 78, 79, 80, 89, 150, 314, 316, 318 solution-focused brief approaches/therapy 142 special education/educational needs 1, 12, 13, 15, 23, 27, 28, 29, 32, 49, 51, 57, 59, 61, 69, 70, 75, 177, 331, 332 special classes 69, 79, 81, 212 special schools 49, 52, 64, 76, 77, 79, 81, 212; continuing need for … 75, 81; half-day ESD special schools (Germany) 77, 78 special units/bases/resource centres (on-site of mainstream school) 63, 65, 73; (off-site) 13, 63, 64, 79, 80 speech and language difficulties 59, 133, 148, 154–59, 228, 230, 268, 323, 331, 334; causes of 155; classroom advice 157; co-morbidity with other difficulties 154, 155; extent of 155; gender and … 154, 155; key terms 155–57; language impairment, specific … 154; therapists 159 splitting 104–5; see ‘psychodynamic approach/ theory’ ‘staged intervention’ (tiered responses) 134, 177–81, 226 Standard Assessment Tests (England) 196 Stigma: see ‘labelling’ storytelling as therapy 125 Strengths and Difficulties Questionnaire (Goodman) 147, 163, 164, 268, 269 stress; children’s 99; hormone; see ‘cortisol’; teachers/other staff’s 77 Student Risk Screening Scale (SRSS) 178 ‘subjectification’ 26 substance abuse 52, 55 success, celebrating … 168 suicide 52, 209 support staff: see ‘teaching assistants/ paraprofessionals/aides’ Sure Start (England) 146 suspension from school: see ‘exclusions, school’ Sweden 12, 40–46, 81 symbolic interactionism 68, 71, 72, 73 synapses, pruning of: see brain development synaptic connections 87, 96, 99, 101; see also ‘brain development’ syntax 157, 158 systems level interventions/approaches 178, 180, 181 systems theory: see ‘biopsychosocial perspective’, ‘ecological theory’ and ‘ecosystemic approach/ theory’ talking and listening to children 135, 237–44, 258 talking therapies 125 Targeted Mental Health in Schools (TaMHS) (England) 194 target setting 227 357

Subject index

targeted support 193; see also ‘Tier 2’ task initiation 233 Teacher Development Agency 333 teacher education/training 5, 181, 213, 227, 305, 322–27, 330–38; inadequate training in EBD 331–32; obstacles to … 335–36 Teaching/classroom assistants/aides/ paraprofessionals 5, 79, 263, 273, 296–302; higher level TAs 297, 298 teaching and learning 136–137; effective 136; expectations of pupils 28, 135, 136; ‘optimistically tuned’ 189; quality teaching lessens EBD 325; readiness to learn 136; see also ‘assessment’, ‘classroom practice’, ‘collaborative learning’, ‘curriculum and EBD’; ‘Ofsted’, ‘reading difficulties lead to EBD’, ‘talking and listening to children’ technologies of optimisation 25 techologies of the self (Foucault) 46 testing, psychometric 139 theories underpinning effective intervention 4, 87; see also ‘applied behaviour analysis’, ‘behaviourist approach’; ‘biopsychosocial perspective’; ‘ecological theory’, ‘ecosystemic approach/theory’, ‘functional behaviour analysis’; ‘cognitive behaviourist’; ‘psychodynamic’; ‘social constructivist position’; ‘socio-cultural theory’, ‘systems level interventions’, ‘tiered responses to difficulties’ therapeutic approaches 3, 71, 79, 91 thought collectives 26 tiered responses to difficulties–general 226; tier 1 (primary prevention) 178, 181; tier 2 (secondary, targeted intervention) 179, 181; tier 3 (tertiary, individualised intensive support) 179, 181 Tourette’s syndrome 11, 41, 45 ‘Triple P’ (Positive Parenting Programme) 307 traveller children: see ‘gypsies, Roma, travellers’ truancy 49, 54, 178, 227, 308, 330 turnover of staff 211 types of provision/service: see ‘patterns/range of provision/services’ unauthorised absence from school: see ‘truancy’ unconditional regard 294 Underwood Report, England (1955) 11, 35 understanding behaviour, importance of 2 United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC) 68, 247, 248

358

United States of America 3, 15–20, 23, 32, 35, 60, 62, 81, 126, 146, 170–75, 177–81, 247, 306, 308, 309, 315, 323 units: see ‘special units/bases/resource centres’ values in staff, importance of caring, inclusive … 5, 28, 72, 110, 196, 213, 257, 337 victimisation 208, 209, 210, 213 violence in schools 53, 135, 208–14, 308; effective/ineffective responses to … 212–13; prevalence of … 209; micro-violence 208, 209, 213; school size and … 211 vocational programmes/education 59, 65 voice/views, listening and responding to pupil … 5, 12, 68, 135, 136, 166, 187, 246–51, 318, 320, 326 volunteer mentoring 263, 288–94 voice, tone of 238 Vygotsky, Lev 5, 135, 216, 217, 218, 219 ‘wait-to-fail approach’ 181 Wales 51, 81, 150, 297 Warnock Report (1978, England) 35, 246, 251, 302 welfare services 78, 80; see also ‘social work/ workers’ well-being, emotional … 94, 101, 126, 145 147, 294; see also ‘mental health’ whole-school issues/approaches 134, 135, 151, 162, 179, 189, 193, 194, 211, 257, 272; see also ‘SEAL’, ‘inclusive values’, ‘ethos/school climate’ widening spectrum of EBD,SEN and mental health categories 12, 22, 24, 58, 76; see also ‘net widening’ Wills, D. 71 Winnicott, D. 107, 300 ‘wiring’ of brain: see ‘brain development’, ‘synaptic connections’ ‘within child’ behaviour factors: see ‘behaviour’ World Health Organisation (WHO) 29, 32 ‘wraparound services’ 2, 179, 315, 320; see also ‘multi-professional/agency/disciplinary working’ young offender institutions 50, 52, 54, 79, 208, 211, 294, 310, 315, 316 youth crime/offending 4, 12, 15, 48–55, 73, 78, 80, 81 youth justice 49, 50, 54, 58 youth offending teams 54 ‘zone of proximal development’ (ZPD) 217