Seclusion in Schools: A Practice We Cannot Normalise

We are sharing this article by Sefton Booth, Headteacher at Bleasdale School, a PRICE client whose thinking on seclusion in SEND settings deserves a wide audience. The views expressed are the author’s own and do not necessarily represent those of PRICE.

Walk into a school and ask a simple question: What happens here when a child is at their most distressed? Not when things are calm. Not during the well-structured lesson. Not when routines are followed and expectations are clear. When a child is overwhelmed—physically, emotionally, cognitively. It is in those moments that a school reveals its philosophy in practice. Increasingly, across the SEND landscape (something I thought that was long gone into the history books), I am hearing a response that gives more than pause for thought: “We may seclude a child if it is in their best interests.” This article explores safe spaces and places and seeks to open up a conversation. It aims to challenge emerging assumptions, to encourage reflection on practice, and to contribute thoughtfully to a growing debate within SEND education. At a time of significant system change, it feels essential that we look carefully—not just at what we do, but at what our actions communicate to the children we serve.

A System at a Crossroads: Education in England is entering a significant period of change. Schools—particularly mainstream settings—are being asked to meet increasingly complex needs within something that is called a “Unit”. The number of pupils with SEND continues to rise, and so too does the range and depth of those needs. Anxiety, trauma, communication differences, and spiky profiles are becoming more commonplace across classrooms. Alongside this, there has been a rapid expansion of behaviour training programmes, de-escalation strategy groups and LA training, and restraint and safety frameworks. We feel we use PRICE to its best, as it states what it is: Protecting Rights In a Caring Environment. In our school, this would never include seclusion. Many of these offer valuable support. Schools are seeking guidance, often under pressure, and providers are responding to that demand. However, within this evolving landscape, a concerning narrative has begun to emerge. Seclusion—sometimes reframed, softened, or repackaged—is being presented as an acceptable, even necessary, part of practice.

The Language We Use Matters: Seclusion is rarely introduced explicitly.Instead, it is described using phrases such as:“safe space”, “quiet room”, “sensory tent”, “low-arousal environment”. On the surface, these sound supportive. And in many cases, spaces designed for regulation can be positive, purposeful and effective. But there is a clear and important distinction: A child choosing to access a supportive space – versus – A child being directed, guided, or placed into a space they cannot freely leave. The first supports autonomy. The second is, in essence, seclusion. Seclusion is commonly understood as forcing a child to spend time alone against their will. If we are not clear about that distinction, we risk normalising something we do not fully understand.

The Case Being Made for Seclusion: It is important to acknowledge that those advocating for seclusion are not doing so lightly.Their argument is often based on practical realities. They might suggest that seclusion provides immediate safety during high-risk situations. Others state it “reduces stimulation for overwhelmed pupils”. Perhaps they frame it as preventing harm to others or that it “offers a predictable, controlled environment”. At certain groups I’ve even heard “it can form part of a gradual pathway to independence”. Some educators feel pupils can learn to use these spaces proactively, and over time, children begin to “choose” to go there themselves. These perspectives often arise from genuine concern for pupil safety, limited training or experience and systems under significant pressure. This is exactly why the issue deserves careful, critical consideration.

What Does a Child Experience? We must move beyond adult intention and consider the child’s experience.When a child is distressed, they are not operating from a place of logic or reflection. Their nervous system is activated. Their sense of safety is fragile.In that moment, being separated—physically or emotionally—can have profound impact. Consider pupil populations-particularly those with attachment needs, communication differences and/or trauma histories. Didn’t most of the pupils today go through a pandemic? Was this not trauma? Some children may experience seclusion as rejection, abandonment or punishment even if that was never the intention. The brain does not interpret experience through policy. It interprets it through feeling and feeling unsafe—even momentarily—may reinforce patterns of anxiety, mistrust and dysregulation.

The Question of “Best Interests”: Much of the justification for seclusion rests on a single phrase:“It is in the best interests of the child.”This is a powerful statement. But it requires careful scrutiny.What defines a child’s best interests?Is it immediate containment? Long-term psychological wellbeing? The reduction of risk in the moment?or the development of trust, regulation and resilience over time?There will always be moments in schools where decisions must be made quickly. Safety matters. Staff must respond to complex and sometimes unpredictable situations. However, “best interests” must extend beyond the moment.It must include the child’s dignity, emotional safety and right to connection. If a response protects the situation, but damages the relationship, we have to ask whether it truly serves the child at all.

The Illusion of Consent: One of the most compelling—and concerning—arguments is the idea that:“Children begin to choose these spaces themselves.”At face value, this appears positive. It suggests ownership, autonomy, even self-regulation. Can we still not ask the question is the child choosing freely, or responding to expectation? Have they been taught that this is the only acceptable way to express distress? Are they seeking regulation—or avoiding consequence? And what is consequence? And should we really be using this linking to our SEN learners? Children are highly adaptive. If a system repeatedly directs them—explicitly or implicitly—towards a particular response, we will learn to comply. Compliance is not the same as wellbeing. Quiet is not the same as calm. Absence is not the same as regulation.

A Risk of Normalisation: Perhaps the greatest concern is not seclusion in isolation.It is the risk that it becomes normal.As more schools begin their SEND journey—often without deep training or specialist built up experience—there is a danger that restrictive practices become embedded early. Language may soften practice to make it more acceptable. Long-term impact is overshadowed by short-term manageability. I was working in SEN schools in the Mid 90’s and have seen the movement to where SEN schools are now. If the white paper is successful, are we going to see a repeat of history? What begins as an exception can quickly become routine. What is introduced as “last resort” can become standard practice. And once normalised, it becomes far more difficult to challenge.

Doing Things Differently: There are often alternatives that can significantly reduce reliance on seclusion.They require more:skill,time, reflection and training. The important distinction is – they exist—and they work. Schools that invest more in understanding behaviour as communication, co-regulation and emotional support, structured, proactive environments gain a deeper knowledge of individual pupils. These schools often find that the need for restrictive practices and seclusion reduces significantly. This does not mean removing boundaries or ignoring risk. It means responding differently. It means asking what is this child communicating? What has led to this moment? What do they need from us, not apart from us?

A Matter of Reflective Values: Seclusion is not simply a strategy. It is a statement. It reflects how the school views behaviour. It reflects how we understand children. It reflects how far we are willing to go to maintain order. Every school and staff member must decide where it stands. There will always be pressure to simplify, contain and control but education—particularly in SEND—demands something more. It demands thoughtfulness. It demands humanity. It demands the ability to hold complexity without falling back on convenience.Conclusion: Holding the Line: We are at a point of change within SEND education. There is opportunity here—for inclusion, for collaboration, for growth across the system, but there is also risk. Seclusion sits directly within that tension.It may appear practical. It may appear effective. It may even appear, in certain moments, necessary. Are we brave enough to learn from history and ask At what cost? If the answer to distress is separation, if the response to vulnerability is removal, if the solution to complexity is confinement—then we must question whether we are truly meeting the needs of the children in front of us. Are our mainstream partners ready to consider what we have been working on since the mid 90s? This is not about judgement. It is about responsibility and deciding—clearly and collectively—the kind of system we want to build. One that manages behaviour. Or one that understands children.