Since September, pupils have been excluded from York schools more than 1,000 times. What happens to them? STEPHEN LEWIS visits York's Pupil Support Centre to find out.

THE face on the computer screen looks a bit like one of the Orcs from Lord Of The Rings or a creature you would expect to pop up on Dr Who. The features seem to have melted and the ears are growing longer and longer.

The boy at the computer clicks expertly on the creature's ear and extends it further. "Look! Look at his head miss!" he says, turning excitedly to his teacher, Sarah Moran.

She comes over and watches him at work. He is trying to sculpt the creature's hair, and it's not quite working the way he wants. "Are you trying to drag the hair down, or up?" Sarah asks. "You've got to click on the flesh and try to drag down the hair." He does as instructed, with better results.

There are three boys altogether in the light, airy IT classroom at York's Pupil Support Centre, all aged between 11 and 14. It's an art class.

The boys are learning to use sophisticated graphic design software to manipulate images on screen, developing skills they would not normally learn until degree level.

They are also having great fun, absorbed in what they are doing, breaking off only to fire insistent questions at their teacher.

The most remarkable thing of all, however, is that these aren't gifted pupils selected for a course that will stretch their ability. Hard to tell from watching them here, but these pupils have been excluded from school because of their disruptive, sullen or violent behaviour.

On a normal school day, about 35 children attend the pupil referral unit. Some have already been permanently excluded from their own school, and are studying here more or less full time. Others spend perhaps a day or two a week here, and the rest of the time in their own school.

Some are studying for a raft of GCSEs. Others, depending on their academic ability, are doing a combination of more vocational courses here and work-experience placements with local employers.

What they have in common is that, by the time they arrive here, many know they are almost in the last chance saloon. Most of them have spent their school lives being "bollocked and shouted at", says Chris Nicholson, who doubles as York's head of behavioural support and head of the Pupil Support Centre. "They are getting very near the end of the line, and they do realise that."

As the Evening Press revealed recently, since September last year pupils have been excluded from schools in York more than 1,000 times.

That sounds an awful lot, although education chiefs insist it is in line with national averages. One thousands exclusions does not mean 1,000 pupils were kicked out of school, they insist. Most exclusions were temporary for a day or two, and often the same pupils were excluded several times.

Murray Rose, City of York Council's assistant director of education, says that usually a short one or two-day exclusion is the result of defiance or refusal to co-operate with a teacher, or occasionally verbal abuse of a teacher. Often, part of the reason for making such an exclusion is to make the parents aware of the problem behaviour.

"They are excluded for the day so that parents have to take responsibility," says Mr Rose.

In about 20 per cent of cases, the exclusions are for longer - and since last September, 26 pupils have been permanently excluded.

Even in cases where a pupil is permanently excluded, physical assaults on teachers are rare.

Sometimes a pupil will be permanently excluded for victimising or physically assaulting another pupil. Sometimes, it will be for bringing a weapon or - rarely, Mr Rose says - drugs into school.

"More likely, it is children who have been persistently defiant," he says.

"They have been told to do something and have said no and have said no and have said no so often that the school felt no longer able to work with the child."

The idea of the city's behavioural support unit - of which the pupil support centre is part - is to act as a safety net for students who find it difficult to fit into mainstream schools, and whose behaviour disrupts the education of other children.

There are many reasons why some children have problems fitting in at school. There may be family problems, which affect the youngsters' behaviour. Some may have an issue with a particular teacher, which got out of hand. Others may simply be going through emotional upheavals because of their age.

The idea is to try to keep them within mainstream education - or to return them to it as soon as possible. "We want them to grow up to become useful members of society," says Chris Nicholson. "Otherwise it costs us as a society a fortune if they grow up and they are not."

The key is early intervention. Each school in York has a behavioural support teacher, who will work with children, teachers and parents in the hope of finding a solution other than exclusion.

If that doesn't work, pupils may be referred to the Bridge Centre, a unit attached to the Pupil Support Centre in Fulford Cross, where they can spend up to six weeks.

Or pupils may be referred to the Pupil Support Centre..

One of the first things they learn at the centre is to look at their own behaviour.

"It is too easy for them to say 'it is the teacher's fault, it is never my fault," says Chris. "We need to get them to examine their behaviour, to stop feeling like a victim and recognise their own impact on their situation."

Discipline at the centre is tough, but teachers also try to be supportive and encouraging.

"They come looking for conflict," Chris says. "We try to be like a firm jelly. You can push it and prod it, and it will give a bit but it's not going to break."

That approach, combined with the small class size (usually six to eight pupils per teacher) and the high level of teacher attention, can lead to some dramatic results.

Within three months, Chris says, the centre can almost guarantee raising a pupil's reading age by a year. Pupils at the centre have attained some excellent GCSE results - one group a couple of years ago achieved three A* grades, although the results were less impressive last year - and OFSTED has praised the quality of teaching.

The achievements of the pupils are relative.

"We had a girl here last year who got one GCSE," says Chris. "But for her, that was a phenomenal achievement. All through her school life, she had been told she wouldn't get anything at all. It is all about added value."

Perhaps the biggest difference is between the attitude of pupils when they arrive and when they leave. He remembers one boy who had to be restrained when he was first referred to the centre.

Family problems had led to his behaviour becoming increasingly difficult at school. The contrast between that boy and the smiling, involved pupil who took part in classes towards the end of his stay was startling.

Sometimes it's a pity the parents can't attend such a centre, as well as their children.

The parent's story

JOHN - not his real name - was 15 when he was referred to the pupil support centre. He had always been a loner, his mum, says - and when he went to secondary school from his much smaller primary school, found it difficult to cope.

He became disruptive and would often walk out of class. He was excluded for short periods a few times, and was on the edge of being permanently excluded when his school decided to give him one last chance.

His mum took him to meet his teacher, but the boy got up and walked out of the meeting.

"And I said, I don't feel he can cope with everything," his mum said.

That was when he was referred to the pupil support centre. He spent a year there, studying for GCSEs in science, history, English, maths and art. "He did settle down quite well," his mum said. "If he hadn't have gone there, I don't know what would have happened. He got on with his teachers there. They understood him, and had time for him."

John is now waiting for his GCSE results - he is predicted to get a clutch of Cs - and hopes to go to York College in September to study for a qualification in public service. Ultimately, he hopes to become a policeman or a firefighter.

"He's changed tremendously," his mum says. "he's a lot calmer and a lot happier."

Updated: 09:11 Thursday, July 14, 2005