Capitulo 6: Descripción de los Delitos de Incidencia Ambiental

Brianna's story reflects a multitude of losses, including her loss of family relationships and her loss of high quality, meaningful education. Brianna's story also highlights lost opportunities for educational (and other agency) support, support that may have steered her away from engagement in offending and ASB. Here I examine Brianna's educational experiences in relation to loss of opportunity, including how neoliberal responsibilising tendencies (Kulz, 2017; Phoenix and Kelly, 2013) served to systematically disenfranchise Brianna's feelings of loss (Doka, 2002) and remove pro-social, supported opportunities for Brianna to make meaning from the ongoing events of her life (Gillies and Neimeyer, 2006), including her feelings of ambiguous loss (Boss, 1999) in relation to her mother.

Taking her story at face value, Brianna's official involvement with the YOT did not begin until after she had completed statutory schooling. It is arguable therefore that Brianna's completion of mainstream school served as a protective measure against offending. Young people's retention in mainstream education is, after all, well documented in both research and policy as a protective factor against offending (Lösel and Bender, 2017; Ttofi et al, 2016; Allen, 2014; Berridge et al, 2001; Farrington and West, 1993). However, understanding Brianna's experience of mainstream education this way feels over simplistic, failing to take into account the poor quality of her schooling, her extensive involvement with ASB during her time in mainstream education or the systematic failure of those working with Brianna to fully acknowledge and proactively address her needs before she began offending. As such, it could be argued that whilst Brianna did not offend during her time at school, her treatment there paved a golden path to offending as a way of demanding attention and voicing unmet need.

In Brianna's case, it was not difficult for me to peel back the layers and peer beneath the stories she chose to share with me. Unlike other young people I met who struggled to discuss their experiences, Brianna spoke clearly and openly about her losses. She was also painfully aware that nothing seemed to change no matter how many times she recounted her stories or how many agencies she was referred to:

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'Social, drug and alcohol, what's it [called] again, family support, CAMHS, Barnardo's. [I've] done them all. Nothing changes and the teachers just think I'm a little bitch around school. They hated me.' Brianna, (female, 16 years).

Brianna's perception that her teachers 'hated' her meant she felt singled out and stigmatised 'ever since [she] got to secondary' and that her problems 'got passed on' rather than dealt with. As such, Brianna became caught in a continual cycle of referral, moving in and out of services as her case was 'stepped up' or 'stepped down'. During her final two years of school, Brianna told me she was almost continually in isolation, deemed too disruptive to be around her peers yet retained in school due to the 'zero permanent exclusions' policy in place across the local authority at the time, and lack of space for her at the local pupil referral unit (PRU).

Understanding Brianna's background and previous experiences provides an important contextual backdrop to her involvement in ASB, and by the time I met her, her involvement in offending. Already emotionally isolated from her family, Brianna's mother's substance misuse often rendered her 'physically present but psychologically absent' (Boss, 1999:9). Being placed in isolation at school therefore likely compounded existing feelings of abandonment and detachment from her family, rendering her emotionally and physically alone at a time where compassion and validation from caring and trusted adults and pro-social peers was desperately required.23

Like Jade, (whose story is discussed in my first findings chapter), Brianna had been continually exposed to domestic violence and neglect. Brianna's radical rejection of her own vulnerability sometimes arose at the SP via her performance of loud and disruptive behaviour during lessons. Following such performances, Brianna would often engage in self-deprecating discourse, explaining she was 'a bitch', 'insane', 'naughty' or 'gone in the head'. As time passed, staff became increasingly fatigued by Brianna's behaviour, leading either to her removal from learning or to staff ignoring her and leaving her to her own devices during lessons. Over time, Brianna's behaviour became increasingly construed as 'attention seeking' or 'rude', with little attempt made to understand or respond to the underlying motivations for her presentation in class:

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'It's attention seeking, no more to it than that. We've been through it a million times with her and we've made referrals. She's had involvement with every agency under the sun. I feel heartfelt sorry for her but a time does come when we have to say 'enough is enough' and we're getting close to that' (SP Manager).

Largely underpinned by attachment theory (Ainsworth and Bowlby, 1991; Ainsworth, 1969; Bowlby, 1969, 1973, 1980) trauma informed approaches to education stress the importance of looking beyond 'attention seeking behaviour' to understand the specific needs each young person is trying to convey (Beacon House, 2015; Australian Childhood Foundation, 2010:61). However much like the YJS, understandings of trauma have only recently begun to permeate pockets of E/W educational practice. Considerations of young people's experiences as losses and their behavioural presentations as communications of 'grief in action' (Butler, 2014) also remain largely obsolete within education. Instead, Kultz (2017:166-168) argues that education systems remain underpinned by neoliberal government policy that favours a particular kind of student; ultimately a polite, self-motivated, academically able, white, middle class student. Where young people do not fit such prescribed ideals, notions of meritocracy are harnessed by educational settings, and mythical tales of social mobility ('if you try hard enough you can be anything you want to be') are unleashed. Raey (2012), in her Bourdieusian analysis of working class experiences of education in the 21st century uncovered similar issues, arguing that students who fail to get on board with prevailing, neoliberal, meritocracal ideals are likely to find themselves systematically removed from their educationally conforming peers, shifted instead towards the fringes of their settings where their 'undesirable' influence over others is reduced. This pattern of educational marginalisation was evident in Brianna's case, as she was increasingly isolated during her time at mainstream school from pro-social peers, subject specialist teaching, and the everyday happenings of school life. Such crippling marginalisation led to further lost educational and social opportunities for Brianna; loss of school friends, loss of high quality, meaningful learning, lost opportunities to develop social skills through group work, lost opportunities to develop employability skills through engaging in work experience and a lost opportunity for educational achievement and progression to her college of choice. Perhaps most crucially, Brianna's experiences of schooling

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reveal numerous lost opportunities for connection with caring and trusted adults who may well have been able to help and support her had her behaviour been better understood as a reaction to loss. During her time at the SP, similar attempts to responsibilise Brianna for her behaviour and for her learning occurred; reverberations of Phoenix and Kelly's (2013) 'you have to do it for yourself' clearly apparent in Brianna's understanding of herself as failing to rise against the odds like Jacqueline Wilson's fictional LAC heroine Tracy Beaker:

'That's me. Growing up a bitch but wanting to be like Tracy Beaker.' Brianna, (female, 16 years).

That Brianna strived to be like LAC heroine Tracey Beaker, a fictional character removed from her family home due to her step-father's abuse and her mother's neglect, could well be understood as a harrowing glimpse into Brianna's everyday life. Messages of salvation through education were nevertheless conveyed through the SP, with inspirational speakers brought in to show young people that 'achievement against the odds is possible' (SP Lead).

The idea that social inequality can be alleviated by educational achievement was prevalent within the SP. However, when these great promises of change failed to materialise for Brianna, she became increasingly disengaged and returned to tried and tested mechanisms of gaining adult attention through ASB and offending behaviour. In each of these instances, Brianna made absolutely sure that adults at the SP, including myself, were well aware of her actions. In this sense, her performance of deviance and self construction as 'naughty' and 'wrong in the head' suggested her utter desperation to be heard and understood rather than any particular desire to be naughty or to break the law.

Brianna's story illuminates the impact of educational inequality as both a creator and sustainer of loss. Her story also reveals how social and educational inequality might ultimately be described as two sides of the same coin when expressions of unmet need are construed as a lack of educational conformity. This notion is explored in further detail below, as I investigate young people's experiences of the 'educational loss lottery', where social status, academic ability and the differing ethos of individual school settings each affected the educational trajectories of young people in the aftermath of their offending behaviour.

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An educational loss lottery; exploring educational inequality through differential responses to young people's offending behaviour

As previously alluded to, it is well documented that engagement in high quality, meaningful education serves as a protective factor for young people, including their desistance from crime (HMI Probation, 2016; Wilkinson, 2009). It is equally well documented in policy and academia that those who do offend tend to have a poor relationship with education. Rates of exclusion are higher for young people involved with youth justice services (Bacon, 2015; HMIP, 2015)24, and those on the fringes are more likely to become ingrained in offending following exclusion from mainstream education (Daniels et al, 2003; Berridge et al, 2001). Young people who offend are also more likely to be placed in isolation or alternative education settings (Daniels et al, 2003), become subject to unofficial, illegal exclusions (Gill et al, 2017; Longfield, 2017; Berridge et al, 2001), or become 'electively'25 home educated (Longfield, 2017). Educational exclusion may occur prior to the young person's involvement with offending behaviour, or as an additional consequence following their involvement with the YOT. When the latter applies, young people are arguably doubly punished, by the YJS and by the education system. This was a common occurrence for young people I met during fieldwork:

'I got kicked out, got kicked out of that school because of what I done [the offence] and then I went round with them because I was bored and there was nothing to do.' Craig (male, 13 years).

'I got took out [of school] even though it was nothing to do with them... I don't get why I had to leave [school], miss my exams and leavers when I was already doing probation for what I done.' Peter, (male, 17 years).

For young people like Craig and Peter, their educational exclusion from mainstream school was a direct response to their offending behaviour. In Peter's case, his offence was high profile and had occurred in his local community. His exclusion from school took place amidst safeguarding concerns for other pupils, thus became a secondary, disenfranchised form of loss for Peter as his risk to others was viewed by

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It is important to note that the relationship between school exclusion and engagement in offending behaviour is complex. Some young people engage in crime before being excluded (Hodgson and Webb, 2005) and others, (as I discovered during the course of this research project) were excluded from school as a result of offending behaviour.

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I use the word 'elective' here with caution. This is the official terminology used for young people who are educated at home as opposed to within a school setting. For many of the young people I worked with however, neither they, nor their families, elected for home education, rather being educated at home was suggested by school as an appropriate course of action or as an alternative to permanent exclusion, which would appear on the young person's educational records.

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school as outweighing his right to complete his education and sit his GCSE exams. Craig's damage to school property saw him simultaneously excluded from his school and charged with criminal damage. Whilst awaiting a 'managed move' to another mainstream school Craig was provided with an hour's tutoring per day. During this period Craig found himself with a lot of free time; time he put to use on the streets with other excluded young people, including those already deeply ingrained in substance misuse and offending behaviour.

Like Brianna, neither Craig nor Peter had family who were in a position to navigate exclusions policies and mount an appeal on their behalf. Exclusion from school (or in Brianna's case, her isolation within it) are therefore likely to go unchallenged if young people and their families do not have the social or cultural capital to argue their case or access advocacy services (Lareau and Horvat, 1999). Many young people I met who had been excluded were incredibly angry about their exclusion, feeling as though they had been treated unfairly by their excluders. This is echoed in other research with young people who offend, which urges those working with young people to 'always unpick why' and to 'acknowledge limited life chances' (GMYJUP Participatory Youth Practice, 2018).

As well as loss of education as a double punishment for young people who offend, concerns regarding inconsistent responses from educational settings regarding young people's offending were also brought up by YOT practitioners, a process described below by Brad as 'unfair and unjust':

'[Young person] has been excluded from school in response to the offence. This decision has been taken despite there not being a conviction and despite offers from us to support [the young person] to remain in their place of education. A young person actually convicted of a similar offence a few months ago was not removed from school. Instead we worked collaboratively with school to address his behaviour. Different schools have different approaches which is unfair and unjust for young people involved ' Brad, (YOT Worker) Minutes from YOT meeting.

The lack of parity between (and on some occasions within) educational settings that Brad describes reveals the educational losses that young people who offend experience are more likely to be determined by the individual approach of each

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school and their relationship with the young person and their family than the nature of the offence itself. During my time in the field, it became increasingly clear that the 'educational loss lottery' was heavily rigged according to social class and academic ability, with those holding greater social and cultural capital better able to negotiate their child's continued presence in mainstream education. Of particular interest was the way that white, middle class, academically able young people seemed more likely to be retained in school, compared with young people from working class backgrounds who were already struggling academically, captured in the memos below:

Image credit: 'Unfair and Unjust: understanding how access to social and cultural capital affects

educational responses to young people's offending'. Memo constructed during fieldwork: June 2017.

This was the case for Adam, an academically able, white, middle class young person. Adam firmly believed he had 'escaped exclusion' for bringing a knife into school because his parents had 'talked school out of it':

'I was lucky because they were going to exclude me. Then mam and dad went in and had it out with them and they decided to keep me in after all.' Adam, (male, 15 years).

Whilst Adam was able to continue on in mainstream education relatively unscathed, as Brianna's story painstakingly revealed, retention in mainstream education can also serve to restrict opportunities for young people if such retention fails to embrace

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young people's full and active participation in everyday life and learning. With a similar socio-economic background to Adam, Lewis also remained in mainstream education following an out of court disposal for sharing indecent images of a minor. Lewis was a talented athlete and a high achiever, predicted A*- C grades in his forthcoming GCSE exams. As such, school were keen to retain Lewis, and his parents were also keen for him to remain in school. For Lewis however, he felt as though staying in school meant that he could not move on and that because the offence had happened in school, he was 'reminded of it every day'. Lewis explained that 'for his protection', school no longer allowed him to spend break or lunchtimes with his peers:

'I don’t really have friends anymore, because of what’s happened. I get an early lunch and then I do jobs for her [teacher], help her out. I don’t feel safe in school... I want to transfer but mam won’t let me and probablies nobody would take me anyway after what’s happened. So I have to stick it out, stick it out for another year and then I’m getting away, as far away from this town as possible.' Lewis, (male, 15yrs).

Instead of reintegrating into everyday life following his offence, Lewis was effectively held captive within school, escorted around the building by staff and isolated from his wider school community, including his beloved athletics as he was banned from attending after school clubs (although interestingly, he was allowed to compete against other schools). A cynical reading of Lewis' experiences might assume that Lewis was not retained in school as a valued member of the community whom staff felt they could support. Instead Lewis felt that he had been retained with different intentions in mind, as someone able to 'achieve the top GCSE grades' and perhaps bring home a few sporting trophies along the way.

The stories shared within this thesis are by no means unique. Other young people I met who had remained in mainstream school following their involvement with the YOT or ASB teams were denied freedoms that other young people enjoyed, including freedom of movement and opportunity to socialise with peers during breaks and lunch. Examples of other discriminatory educational practices were rife, with YOT assessment data revealing young people: being placed on a restricted or reduced timetable; spending lengthy periods of time in isolation; not being allowed to

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enter the main school building; being taught 1:1; being educated after school hours; being sent work to complete at home. Young people I met who had experienced disruption to their schooling in these ways were generally accepting of the sanctions placed upon them, stating they were 'naughty' or 'bad' or that 'it's better than getting excluded'. Many were also aware that they should be 'grateful' for not being permanently excluded:

'I hate it but I know that I'm lucky I didn't get excluded for what happened. At least that's not on my record as well as this [offence]. Lewis, (male, 15 years).

Other young people stated that they 'stopped going' or 'hardly went' following the sanctions placed upon them, deciding that school was 'boring' or 'pointless'. It could be argued that the labels young people placed upon themselves (or felt others had placed upon them) in relation to their conduct in education affected their opportunities moving forwards, with many believing they were too 'thick' or 'naughty' to learn. These presentations are consistent with labelling theory (Becker, 1973) and Goffman's (1963) work on stigma, with young people's feelings about learning (and their subsequent performance in the classroom) underpinned by the notion that they were viewed as educational failures:

'[I] used to be in top sets until year 11 and then I failed. I don't know what