Pupils or prisoners? Institutional geographies and internal exclusion in UK secondary schools

Pupils or prisoners? Institutional geographiesand internal exclusion in UK secondary schools

John Barker*, Pam Alldred**, Mike Watts** and Hilary Dodman***Centre for Human Geography, School of Health Sciences and Social Care, Brunel University, Uxbridge,

Middlesex UB8 3PH

**School of Sport and Education, Brunel University, Uxbridge, Middlesex UB8 3PH

Email: [email protected]

Revised manuscript received 12 November 2009

A growing interest in the geographies of schooling has led to an exploration of a variety ofschool spaces. An increasing number of secondary schools offer internal fixed-term exclusionsso that temporary removal from school is not seen as ‘time off’ for students. This particularstrategy has led to the creation of a new type of space in schools. Drawing upon researchundertaken in a London secondary school, this paper explores the geography of these newsecluded spaces. We highlight that the configuration of physical space in Seclusion Units andthe regulation of spatial practices create highly controlled and segregated spaces of punish-ment. We explore the powerful transformative effects of these spaces to change students’behaviour, social interaction and attitudes to learning. However, rather than simply creatingdocile subjects, we recognise that domination is never complete and we explore the extentand the limit of student resistance to the discipline and control of the Seclusion Unit.

Key words: school, young people, discipline, punishment, exclusion

Introduction: geographies of schoolingAlthough schools have often been sites of data collec-tion, they have until recently received less attentionfrom geographers than other institutional spaces. Thereis now a growing interest in the geographies of school-ing (Collins and Coleman 2008), recognising schoolsare key spaces of childhood (Edwards and Alldred1999; Vanderbeck 2005; Kraftl 2006). Geographicaldebates around schooling have often drawn upon theinstitutional geographies literature. The work of Fou-cault (1977 1980) has been valuable in mappingspatial practices in institutions such as prisons, work-places and psychiatric hospitals, as well as schools.Foucault (1977) uses the term panopticism (whichdraws upon but is not limited to Bentham’s 18th-century architectural design of the Panopticon) to iden-tify how specific spatial arrangements place subjectsunder constant surveillance or the ever-present possi-bility or threat of such (see also Sharp et al. 2000; Parr2000; Wainwright 2005). The regulatory gaze and

subtle and specific spatial arrangements create systemsof power which transmit particular values and normsand enable the discipline, control and regulation ofbodies, behaviour and identity. In doing so, theseproduce particular docile and reformed subjects (Philoand Parr 2000).

This classic Panoptic gaze has been identified inclassrooms and other school spaces. Regulation andcontrol is achieved in schools through actual surveil-lance or the possibility of such (Pike 2008). As Catlingstates, ‘in the classroom, children become used to beingwatched and noticed, and fundamentally to knowwhere control lies’ (2005, 327). Geographers andothers have begun to map the physical design andorganisation of space in schools, responding to Philoand Parr’s call (2000) to map the geography and internalarrangement of space inside institutions. For example,researchers have mapped children’s use of school play-grounds (Tranter and Malone 2004; Thomson 2005),school dining rooms (Pike 2008), and the moral geog-raphies of classrooms (Fielding 2000; Catling 2005).

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Area Vol. 42 No. 3, pp. 378–386, 2010ISSN 0004-0894 © 2010 The Authors.

Journal compilation © Royal Geographical Society (with The Institute of British Geographers) 2010

Geographical debates regarding schooling havealso drawn upon the rapidly expanding sub-disciplineof children’s geographies (Vanderbeck 2008), whichover the past decade has mapped a wide variety ofeveryday spaces of childhood across the globe,including schools (Holloway et al. 2000; Kraftl 2006),the street (Matthews et al. 2000; Young and Barrett2001), nurseries (Gallacher 2005) and intentionalcommunities (Maxey 2004). Schools are but one ofmany specialised adult-constructed and controlledinstitutions that place children in contained zonesand structure their space and time (Smith and Barker2000; Holloway and Valentine 2000; Thomas 2000;Maxey 2004). However, children do not passivelyaccept adult regulation nor adult attempts to shapetheir knowledge, identities or behaviour. Rather, chil-dren are competent social actors who employ avariety of strategies to contest, challenge or transgressadult spatial hegemony and boundaries (Valentineet al. 2000; Cahill 2004), both in schools (see Fielding2000; Thomson 2005; Catling 2005) and elsewhere(Smith and Barker 2000). Furthermore, differentgroups of young people may experience schooling invery diverse ways (for example, see Holt (2007) ondisabled children’s experiences of schooling, andVanderbeck (2005) on traveller children and school-ing). This paper responds to recent calls from chil-dren’s geographers for more engagement with socialtheory and radical debate (see Horton and Kraftl2005; Vanderbeck 2008) by using a Foucauldianapproach to surveillance to explore a new type ofspace in schools and to consider the extent and limitof children’s agency in these settings.

Internal exclusion in schoolsA fixed-term exclusion from school is a disciplinarymeasure that headteachers can use to deal with inci-dents of serious misbehaviour. In 2005/6, there were343 840 non-permanent fixed-term exclusions fromschools in England (DfES 2007). A fixed-term exclusioncan last up to 5 days in any one period and placesresponsibility upon parents/carers to ensure the youngperson is not present in a public place during normalschool hours and that work sent home is completedand returned to school. In order that exclusion doesnot function as a reward (‘time off school’), and inorder that excluded students receive education andadequate supervision, a growing number of schools inthe UK (though rarely elsewhere) have developedschool-based internal exclusion, also known as Seclu-sion Units or remove rooms (DCSF 2008). Seclusion

Units have arisen from political pressure to raise edu-cational standards and attainment, to reduce levels ofexclusion from school and to remove the threat of thepresence of ‘undesirable’ young people in publicspace during school hours.

The UK government has no overall strategy orrequirement for schools to develop Seclusion Units(indeed no central figures are available about theirprevalence nor is there a prescribed model). Officialguidance highlights that Seclusion Units commonlyaim to punish disruptive behaviour, mediate betweenschool and parents, and offer clear and organisedsupport for students’ learning, for managedre-integration to mainstream classes and to secureimprovements in students’ behaviour (DCSF 2008).Typically, in Seclusion students cannot socialise withfriends, are closely supervised and taught intensely (ona staff–student ratio approaching 1 : 1) and thereforeshould be more, not less, focused on learning whilstexcluded from the classroom. Whilst part of a broaderapproach to supporting students at risk of exclusion,Seclusion is distinct from existing support servicessuch as Learning Support Units or In-School Centres(see McKeon 2001; Hallam and Castle 2001) becauseaccess is restricted to those who have been required toattend as punishment.

These new types of school spaces have been con-sidered controversial, in that some discussions (forexample, on UK television and on web-forums) havesuggested that their highly punitive nature violateschildren’s rights. Furthermore, their presence can beseen as an example of the inexorable rise of the sur-veillance society in the UK through a diverse numberof strategies of surveillance in public and privatespaces (Koskela 2000; van Hoven and Sibley 2008),and in particular the policing and surveillance ofyoung people (Matthews et al. 2000; Ansell 2009).However, there is little research that considers theeffectiveness of Seclusion Units (as exceptions seeMcKeon 2001; Hallam and Castle 2001) or thatexplores young people’s views of these spaces. Thispaper does not seek to provide a comprehensive evalu-ation of the efficacy of Seclusion. Rather, we demon-strate how this particular policy shift is significant as ithas led to the creation of new types of spaces ofpunishment hitherto not seen in schools.

About the researchNew Academy,1 located in London, is one of a growingnumber of academy schools. Academy schools are theoutcome of a flagship government policy that involves

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building new state schools using private sector spon-sorship (up to £2m per school), in return for a signifi-cant degree of control over the school’s curriculum,ethos and staffing. New Academy serves a predomi-nantly socially disadvantaged community over a rela-tively confined local geographical area. Entitlement tofree school meals is common and the proportion ofstudents who have learning difficulties and/or disabili-ties is above average. Around three-quarters (72%) ofstudents are of white British heritage, whilst the pro-portion of students for whom English is an additionallanguage is above average.

New Academy’s Seclusion Unit opened in 2007, inresponse to concerns over widespread poor behaviourand rising rates of fixed-term exclusions. The Unit issupervised by a higher level teaching assistant (classteachers with free periods are also often allocated onehalf hour slot per week in the Unit). In its first year ofoperation, almost a quarter (22%) of the student bodywere required to attend Seclusion. The most often citedreasons for Seclusion are verbal abuse (40%), persis-tent disruptive behaviour (19%) and failure to followinstruction from staff (18%). This paper is based on anevaluation undertaken by the authors and funded bythe Academy.2 The evaluation used two methods. Astatistical analysis of the Unit’s database (detailing foreach Seclusion event the age, gender, ethnicity andyear group of each student, the reason for attendanceand length of stay) was undertaken to explore patternsof Seclusion. Secondly, a total of 29 in-depth indi-vidual and focus group interviews (involving 39respondents) were undertaken with a range of schoolstaff (including the Principal, Assistant Principals,Head of Years, classroom teachers and learning assis-tants), parents and students who had and had not beenSecluded. This was complemented by our informalobservations during weekly visits to the school over a6-month period.

The geography of SeclusionUsing contemporary approaches to design, NewAcademy is housed in a bright, transparent building.Classrooms and communal areas are spacious andflooded with light from floor to ceiling windows andglass roofs. The internal walls of each classroom arecomprised, at least in part, of glass walls, so that stu-dents can look onto communal spaces such as corri-dors, the dinner hall and main reception, whilst alsoenabling staff in corridors to observe classrooms. Onestudent identified this as part of a broader surveillanceculture within the school:

The school’s got more stricter (sic). (We are) beingmore watched, like, all the time . . . ‘coz they havecameras everywhere, (the staff) walk around the corri-dors with walkie talkies. (Non-secluded male student)

Schools have become increasingly sophisticatedsites for surveillance. Recent advances in buildingdesign and materials, and contemporary building prac-tices, have embraced and enhanced the potential forthe panoptical disciplinary gaze in schools (see Pike2008). In contrast to the rest of the school, the Seclu-sion Unit is hidden and difficult to find (the door iseuphemistically titled ‘Inclusion’). Clearly denoting thespace as separate and isolated from the rest of theschool, the Unit is located behind heavy woodendoors which have only small glass panels, so there isno opportunity for passing students or staff to glimpseinside.

Separation is an often-used spatial tactic associatedwith punishment in other school spaces (on punish-ment in playgrounds see, for example, Thomson 2005).However, Seclusion is distinct from other punitiveschool-based segregation practices. Operating theentire length of the school day, Seclusion is longerlasting than other spatial practices of segregation thatyoung people are routinely subjected to in schools.Whilst visible demarcation of those punished is aroutine spatial strategy within schools (for example,Pike (2008) discusses the visible punishment of beingforced to stand in the corner in school dinner rooms),Seclusion is not a highly visible spatial strategy ofpunishment, but one based on absence, physical iso-lation and separation from the rest of the school.However, there are a limited number of occasionswhen Secluded students can be seen by other students:

If I do have to walk any of the (students in Seclusion) tothe canteen or to the toilet, everybody’s like, reallyinterested. ‘Ooh, there’s the Seclusion people’, ‘costhey like to jeer at them a little bit. (Unit supervisor)

This scene is reminiscent of Foucault’s discussion ofthe Spectre of the Scaffold. Highly visible ‘ceremoniesof punishment’ (1977, 49) re-enforce regulation andcontrol and act as deterrent by displaying punishment.However, as the rest of the paper discusses, this verytraditional and visible expression of power and controlis rare in relation to the everyday practices associatedwith the Seclusion Unit – tactics and strategies ofcontrol are often much more subtle and invisible.

Time as well as space segregates Seclusion from therest of the school. Institutions such as schools arehighly regulated according to strictly defined time-

380 Barker et al.



tables (Fielding 2000). Of importance here is that theUnit operates a timetable different to the rest of theschool. This works as a further punishment by makingit more difficult for Secluded students to socialise withfriends at either end of the school day. Although themain timetable is not followed, the bleeping signalsbroadcast throughout the school to represent the endof each school period can be heard in the Unit:

So they start here nine thirty-five, it’s slightly differentand at ten fifty-five it’s break. So what is there? Two orthree lessons, but as I say, I don’t keep to that. Theymay do two different subjects during that time and takea bit longer on them. Although we hear the bell goingfor the different lessons, no. I don’t really put a timelimit, I like to let them finish something. (Unitsupervisor)

This timetabling strategy emphasises simultaneouslythat students are still subject to the school’s regimes,whilst also highlighting separation, isolation and pun-ishment. Similarly, specific spatial practices, accept-able in the rest of the school, are forbidden in the Unit:

You’re not allowed to interact with other stu-dents . . . you just work on your own, you’re notallowed to speak until break, there are boardsin-between (desks) so you’re not allowed to talk toother people while you’re doing your work and stuff.(Secluded male student)

These spatially specific disciplinary practices(having to stay silent, remaining seated, including atbreak and lunchtime, and starting and finishing schoolat different times) are seen by students as punitiveaspects of Seclusion and are indeed reminiscent ofother spatial strategies employed in other institutionalpenal spaces (see, for example, Philo 2001; van Hovenand Sibley 2008). Indeed many students, parents andteachers said these spatial strategies and disciplinarytactics gave the Unit a ‘prison-like’ reputation:

Well a lot of them do say they feel that they’re inprison. I explain to them it isn’t a prison and the doorisn’t locked, as it would be in prison. But a lot of themsay they feel as though this is what prison would feellike. (Unit supervisor)

They (students) do recognise it as form of punishment,I mean they’ll go home and joke and say ‘gosh it’s likebeing in prison’. (Teacher)

Although more broadly Seclusion has becomeentangled in debates about children’s rights (question-ing the legality and appropriateness of detaining youngpeople in such penal spaces), this challenge to this

new type of school space is noticeably absent in therespondents’ accounts of Seclusion. Only one teacher(and none of the parents or students taking part in theresearch) expressed concerns about these penalspaces:

For the first time yesterday I had a parent ‘phoning upand saying ‘he’s not going into that prison’. (Seniorleadership team member)

Therefore, the compulsive and penal nature ofSeclusion is largely legitimised by parents and studentsas fair, appropriate and ‘deserved’ punishment – as onestudent put it ‘a good punishment for bad behaviour’.However, we need to recognise that simply because adominant regime is powerful enough to reproduceitself as ‘legitimate’ in the eyes of those subject to itscontrol, does not necessarily mean that it is indeedlegitimate or, in this case, free from scrutiny in relationto the UK’s adherence to the United Nations (1989)Convention on the Rights of the Child.

As others have powerfully articulated (see Fielding2000; Catling 2005), the physical arrangement ofclassrooms matter. The physical space of the SeclusionUnit (see Figure 1) is designed and organised in a verydifferent way to the school’s classrooms.

The school’s classrooms are bright, spacious,equipped with wide benches positioned towards thefront of the class, the teacher’s desk and the interactivewhiteboard. In contrast, the Seclusion Unit is a smallroom with a very small window. Instead of facing thefront of the class, students sit in individual cubicles

Figure 1 Layout of the Seclusion Unit



facing the wall, with the supervisor seated behindthem, looking onto (and into) the cubicles:

. . . and they’re made to face the wall, and we’ve putthe barriers up to stop them communicating . . . (S-enior leadership team member)

It’s just like walls where you’re blocked off and you justhave to sit there facing the wall. (Male secludedstudent)

So they’re away from the teacher, facing a wall withtheir desk. So they literally have a cubicle to work inand that’s it. (Senior leadership team member)

The physical configuration of space is not simplyneutral, but signifies much to the subjects who inhabitit (Kraftl 2006). The physical layout of Seclusion isclearly associated with punishment, mirroring the cellsand partitioning found in prisons and other penal insti-tutions (Foucault 1977; Philo and Parr 2000). Spatialarrangements and technologies produce a particulartopography of power. The Seclusion Unit is organisedto maximise the supervisor’s view – a configurationthat promotes regulation through visibility, as subjectsare unrelentingly exposed to the gaze of others. Mir-roring the classic Panoptic gaze, the layout of space isessential to these exercises of power and control (Philoand Parr 2000; Wainwright 2007; Pike 2008). The sur-veillance within the Unit clearly links into differentscalar strategies of surveillance of young people. Thesurveillance of young people in public and semi-public spaces (such as town centres and shoppingmalls) often challenges and problematises young peo-ple’s presence (Matthews et al. 2000). Schools havemultiple layers of surveillance (see also Kearns andCollins 2003), and Seclusion is one powerful, small-scale example of this. These scalar strategies are alsointertwined, inform and support each other. Seclusionhelps to prevent young people excluded from schoolfrom using public space. It is also interesting that withthe advent of Seclusion Units, the meaning of exclu-sion has changed as exclusion from mainstream schoolis now managed and located within school. Theseexcluded young people remain the subject of surveil-lance and under the control of schools, even thoughthey have been excluded from the everyday, main-stream spaces of schooling.

Seclusion and reformThe physical arrangement of space is not designed forits own sake, rather it produces power relations thatdefine relationships between students and teachers

(Foucault 1977). Spatial configurations (for example, inschools, prisons, hospitals and elsewhere) generateand produce particular subjects, influencing bodies,identities, attitudes and behaviours. Perhaps unsurpris-ingly, the physical arrangement of space in Seclusionand the regulation of specific spatial practices (com-bined with the ongoing threat of permanent exclusion)often influences students’ behaviour. Many teachersstated they are surprised to see (often immediate) trans-formations in the behaviour of students attending theUnit:

Once they’re there, I mean . . . Some of, particularlythe girls, their character changes absolutely completelyfrom being a sort of, you know loud mouth madams to‘yes sir, please sir, three bags full, sir’. It’s as extreme asthat. (Senior leadership team member)

You can spend all day working with them in here andby the end of the day, you’ve got somebody beingreally polite to you, doing work they didn’t want to do.(Unit supervisor)

Reflecting what others have found, schools mouldbehaviour (Thomson 2005) and the regulatory gaze(Vanderbeck 2005) of Seclusion can produce behav-iour very different to that seen in classrooms. Philo andParr (2000) note there is a deliberate configuration ofinstitutional spaces in order to produce more ‘docile’and ‘proper’ subjects (also Birch et al. 2007; Collinsand Coleman 2008). As Foucault (1977) comments,the physical configuration of space is central to regu-lation and control, a point noted by one of the Seclu-sion staff:

The teacher’s behind them . . . I think, you know,almost by default that actually works rather nicelybecause it puts them in a frame of mind, they’re notsitting in a class looking at the teacher because other-wise there would be constant interaction . . . if theyneed help, [they] put their hand up sort of thing, theydon’t shout out. So, I’m very pleased that, if you like,the kids, almost change their demeanour when they goin there. I think the physical environment helps that aswell and I’m quite pleased from that point of view.(Senior leadership team member; emphasis added)

Whilst this creates docile subjects, it was clear thatthis change was simultaneously a result of childrenbeing moulded and manipulated, but also partly chil-dren’s own active coping strategies to get through theday in Seclusion. As well as changes in behaviour,there is consensus amongst students and staff that stu-dents work harder and achieve more in Seclusion thanin class:

382 Barker et al.



He does more work in there than in any of his classes.He does more in a day than he does in a whole week.(Parent of secluded student)

Work-wise, last time he was in there, one of the teach-ers who he doesn’t get on with phones me up to tell mehow outstanding he was in Seclusion. He said hecouldn’t believe he was reading his work, it was abso-lutely outstanding. (Parent of secluded student)

Yeah [students do more work in Seclusion] becausethere’s not like people distracting you . . . you’re nottalking to anyone. That [work] is the only thing todo . . . so you’re concentrating on your work more.(Male secluded student)

One senior member of staff noted that, upon reflec-tion, students are often surprised by what they achieve:

‘I’ve never done this before, sir’, they say. (Senior lead-ership team member)

Sometimes at the end of the day, I’ve had kids come tome and show me work they have done in the room andbe quite proud and pleased. It allows you to then say,‘that’s pretty good’. (Teacher)

The accounts of and about Secluded students hereare perhaps more reminiscent of ‘good learners’ (seeFielding 2000) than poorly behaved students at risk ofpermanent exclusion from school. Although there areextensive debates regarding effective education strate-gies (which are far reaching and beyond the scope ofthis paper), this evidence shows that the configurationof space and spatial practices in Seclusion, combinedwith the ongoing threat of permanent exclusion andthe support of the Unit supervisor (to enable studentsto reflect on their actions and develop alternative strat-egies to support their learning) can produce significantchanges in behaviour. This particular function reflectsthe broader reformatory aspect of other punitiveinstitutions, to produce ‘decent’ subjects. As Foucaultcomments:

The panopticon was also a laboratory; it could be usedas a machine to carry out experiments, to alter behav-iour, to train or correct individuals. (Foucault 1977,203)

However, attempts to reform Secluded studentswere often short term and partially successful at best:

It tends to have a temporary effect, with, I think theworst offenders, and a more lasting effect with thosewho don’t really get into too much trouble. (Teacher)

Indicating how space is deeply important and impli-cated in the constitution of the subject (Pike 2008),many respondents note that students reverted to theirusual behaviour and attitudes to learning once theyreturned to everyday classrooms (complete with peerpressure, noise, different teacher–student ratios anddiffering styles and modes of teaching). Therefore thetransformative effects of Seclusion are often limited tothe space of Seclusion – interventions are not sufficientto enable long-term behavioural changes amongstmany Secluded students, or to address or resolve thecomplex behavioural issues or specific learning needsthat many of them possess.

Seclusion and the possibilities and limitsof resistanceJust as space is actively organised to produce particularsubjects, space is also important in enabling resistance(Thomson 2005; Wainwright 2007). There are anumber of examples that show Secluded students arenot simply passive individuals subjected to discipline,regulation and control. Two examples highlight this.Firstly, although partitions separating each desk aredesigned to isolate and separate students to preventcommunication, this is often circumvented:

(I have to watch) the booths, obviously so that theycannot make any contact or communicate withanybody else. They do try to pass notes ’round theback. (Unit supervisor)

Another example involved the cupboard locatedagainst the wall, between the students’ cubicles andsupervisor’s desk (see Figure 1):

Sometimes if I’m helping one and I’m in thebooth . . . you do need eyes in the back of your head inhere because . . . any opportunity . . . I looked awayone day and one boy who was there was missin-g . . . And I thought, ‘well he can’t have got past meout the door’ . . . and he was in that cupboard. He wasa six foot tall, lanky boy and he’d got himself in thereand shut the door. It was quite comical really if youwere allowed to laugh at it. I said to him ‘You ought tobe in a circus’. He was like a contortionist. So youneed eyes in the back of your head. (Unit supervisor)

Whilst Foucault’s panopticism (Foucault 1977) sug-gests (at least in theory) a perfect exercise of power andoffers little room for agency in the face of disciplineand control, others have developed a more productiveand positive conceptualisation of power, suggesting amore complex and nuanced picture of social and



spatial relationships in institutions (Sharp et al. 2000;Philo and Parr 2000; Wainwright 2007). The exampleshere mirror those from other institutionalised popula-tions (see for example, van Hoven and Sibley 2008)and show that where domination, discipline andcontrol appear comprehensive, there are always pos-sibilities (however mundane or inconsequential) forresistance, subversion and for using space in ways notintended or planned (Soja 1996; Sharp et al. 2000).

An example of one Secluded student’s behaviourillustrates the myriad of entangled power relations inwhich different individuals (including teachers as wellas Secluded students) are placed, and how this simul-taneously generates opportunities for domination andresistance:

I think when I’m in there [the Unit], I’m a little bit tooconfrontational. Because I did it [supervised theUnit] . . . on Tuesday and I could feel myself from timeto time getting quite agitated, because shewas . . . [loud tapping sound here to illustrate the stu-dent’s tapping]. (Senior leadership team member)

Oh right (Interviewer)

I had to draw myself back from nagging . . . and then Isort of changed it to . . . (whispers here) ‘I would preferif you didn’t do that’. ‘Sorry sir’. And it was ok. Becausemy mind set is this – you don’t even have a sound here.

The particular act of resistance (the student makingloud tapping noises – a form of bodily resistance alsoidentified in other institutional spaces, see Parr 2000)generates a reaction from the teacher. However, inrecognising that a loud remonstration with the student(which may well have been the usual strategy in aclassroom) would be inappropriate in this particularspace, the teacher’s response is shaped and reconfig-ured by the particular space of the Seclusion Unit. Thisis reminiscent of the ways that nurses (as well aspatients) and prison warders (as well as prisoners) arealso caught in panoptic surveillance and adhere to‘appropriate’ subject positions.

However, these examples of students’ acts of resis-tance are limited in scope, often minor and inconse-quential, presenting very limited opportunities forchallenging the dominance of the Unit. Despite theiracts of transgression, students remain confined withinthe room and powerless to challenge in any meaning-ful sense the broader institutional structures and pro-cesses of surveillance and control. The examplestherefore indicate the limits to agency, and that youngpeople in such institutional settings are often less ableto act (deliberately) on others or to transform space

than they are acted upon by others (Ansell 2009).Whilst this is so for many institutionalised populations,the status of the group under consideration (as agedunder 16 and legally obliged to attend school) makes adifference here. Adults, through their social status andinstitutional power located within the broader educa-tional system, are able to legitimise the control andcontainment of children (for example, through theseSeclusion Units) in ways that would be unacceptablefor many other sections of the population.

ConclusionThis paper has mapped the entangled spatialities andpower relations within these new Seclusion spaces ofpunishment for young people. The physical configura-tion of Seclusion re-enforces discipline and control,emphasises punishment and often creates significanttransformations in behaviour and attitudes to learning.However, these changes are mostly temporary andshort-lived, and students at risk of exclusion fromschool require substantive and ongoing support andintervention to help keep them in school and promoteacademic achievement.

The paper also responds to a recent call amongstchildren’s geographers (see Horton and Kraftl 2005;Vanderbeck 2008) for a more thorough engagementwith theory amongst children’s geographers. Comple-menting the work that has focused on more everydayspaces of schools (Thomson 2005; Catling 2005; Holt2007), this paper shows the currency of a Foucauldiananalysis in mapping new types of school spaces thathave been established to punish poor behaviour. Thisapproach to surveillance and power is useful in explor-ing both the extent of domination and the possibilitiesof resistance within institutional settings. Whilst thedisciplinary gaze within Seclusion Units is highly pow-erful, the examples of students’ transgressive actssuggest domination is not complete. However, that thetransgressive acts are minor and often inconsequentialindicate the limits of children’s agency and the powerand surveillance that is routinely enacted upon them.

Much of the configuration of space and the spatialpractices identified within Seclusion echoes researchexploring other penal spaces in which adults spendtheir time, such as prison geographies (Philo 2001) andother institutional geographies. Whilst this paper hasconsidered students’ experiences of one particularspace of punishment, we call for more work to explorechildren and young people’s perceptions of other lessordinary, less routine institutional and penal spacessuch as young offenders’ units and psychiatric hospi-

384 Barker et al.



tals. Furthermore, this paper hopes to generate moraldebate about the desirability of these contemporaryeducational practices. An increasing number ofschools provide these highly restrictive spaces of pun-ishment (in which young people’s experiences mirrorthose of adults incarcerated in institutional settings)which are placed cheek by jowl with, although highlysegregated from, everyday spaces of schooling.

Acknowledgements

We wish to thank the two anonymous referees and EmmaWainwright for their insightful, inspiring and helpful com-ments on earlier drafts of this paper.

Notes

1 A pseudonym.2 We wish to express our thanks to the school for supporting

the research.

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Documents

Pupils or prisoners? Institutional geographies and internal exclusion in UK secondary schools