One Hat. One Responsibility.
As I look at my calendar for next week, I can already see it filling up meetings with Inclusion Teams, and familiar multi-agency conversations.
It reminds me how often the same situations repeat. Not in exact detail, but in pattern. Before I go any further, I need to be clear: Adam is not a real child, and the scenario below is fictional. It is a composite, drawn from repeated experiences that many school leaders will recognise.
Adam, a Year 10 pupil, ran down the corridor between lessons and barged into three younger Year 7 pupils.
One stumbled.
Another was pushed back against the wall.
Bags hit the floor.
He was instructed to stop.
The exact wording used was: “Adam, stop.”
Nothing else.
He turned his head and said, clearly and loudly:
“F*** you, b****.”
He then continued running down the corridor.
Students nearby stopped. Conversations cut off mid-sentence. Several stood still, watching to see what the school would do next.
The behaviour was sanctioned. The child was removed. A suspension was issued.
The building stabilised.
By the end of the day, the emails arrive.
A family worker asked for a meeting.
The Inclusion Team suggested “rethinking the response.”
The parent appealed the suspension.
Not to dispute what happened, but to question whether the consequence should stand.
How Inclusion Drift Happens
Inclusion doesn’t usually fail in corridors. It erodes in meetings.
Once the incident is over, the focus quietly shifts not away from the child, but away from the behaviour. From what happened to how it was handled. From the verbal abuse itself to the adult response.
The reality is schools and external agencies are not holding the same responsibility.
Social care and inclusion services are rightly focused on the individual child in front of them. Their role is to advocate, to reduce risk for that child, and to push for additional support.
A school leader’s role is different. We are responsible not just for one child, but for the safety, learning, and dignity of every pupil and every adult in the building. When those responsibilities collide, it can feel like a disagreement about values.
It isn’t. It is a difference in remit.
Inclusion drift happens when that distinction is blurred, when the school is expected to absorb risk on behalf of the wider system, and boundaries are softened not because they are wrong, but because they are inconvenient.
As a school leader. You do not have to do what an external team suggests.
Advice is not direction.
Recommendation is not authority.
Inclusion Teams and Social Care can and should advise, challenge, and advocate. But the legal responsibility for the school environment sits with the school.
Ultimately, someone has to hold the line.
If it was the right decision on Monday to suspend Adam, it does not become the wrong decision on Thursday because the meeting is uncomfortable.
Boundaries don’t weaken with time. They weaken when leaders do.
The Questions That Always Come
In multi-agency meetings, “professional curiosity” is often used to soften boundaries.
Here’s what that looks like.
“He was clearly in flight mode.”
Trauma does not remove the school’s responsibility to keep other pupils and staff safe. When safety is compromised, restoring order is not optional.
“You didn’t use PACE language.”
The instruction was “Adam, stop.” That is a lawful and proportionate directive in a safeguarding situation.
“What was it about your instruction that triggered him?”
Being told to stop running in a corridor is a reasonable expectation.
That’s it. No second sentence. No justification. No softening.
What the SEND Code of Practice Actually Requires
The SEND Code of Practice is often referenced at this point and often misunderstood.
Yes, pupils with SEND may require additional support and reasonable adjustments. Schools must identify need, remove barriers to learning, and plan provision carefully. But the Code does not remove the expectation of appropriate behaviour.
Nor does it prevent schools from applying their behaviour policies, including sanctions, where necessary.
Support and accountability are designed to operate together, alongside safeguarding duties. Understanding behaviour is appropriate. Excusing abuse is not.
The Part-Time Timetable Pressure
This is where conversations often turn.
Reduced timetables are framed as kindness.
As flexibility.
As compromise.
But a part-time timetable used to manage behaviour is a denial of a child’s statutory right to full-time education and constitutes an unlawful exclusion.
Support can increase.
Adjustments can be reviewed.
Planning can be strengthened.
But entitlement and the expectation of safe, respectful behaviour within it does not bend.
Just say no we will not be doing this.
Then stop.
The Three Hats I Am Wearing
In moments like this, it’s often implied that a leader is acting in a single capacity.
I am wearing three hats at the same time.
Designated Safeguarding Lead.
My responsibility is immediate safety for the pupils involved and for the wider school community.
Inclusion Lead.
My responsibility is lawful access to education with appropriate support, without redefining abuse as inaccessibility.
Behaviour Lead.
My responsibility is to maintain the boundaries that protect dignity and learning.
These roles do not compete. They reinforce each other.
Why You Don’t Back Down
When schools agree to “rethinking” sanctions for verbal abuse, they don’t just support one child. They signal to staff and pupils that safety is negotiable.
As Tom Bennett reminds us, schools rely on shared social norms once those collapse, learning follows.
And as Sir Martyn Oliver has been clear in his public commentary:
Inclusion cannot mean tolerating behaviour that harms the education, safety, or dignity of others. Being humane does not mean lowering expectations it means holding boundaries honestly and consistently.
That clarity matters.
Bottom Line
We will support Adam.
We will do the relational work.
But the boundary on verbal abuse and the right of everyone in the building to feel safe stays exactly where it is.
One hat. One responsibility.

I sat in a meeting once and saw a middle leader cave to the parent is a poorly behaved student. Then I realised that the issue was codependence - the teacher felt we needed the student as much as the mum needed the school. They seemed to believe that we had no reason to exist if we did not keep students like this in school. This is far from true or right but what we really need is to know what the next steps are when we get to this place. Otherwise there is the very real fear of excluding a student to further chaos in their lives and those of others. Schools are being put in an invidious position by failures beyond their gates.
Thank you so much for the clarity and kindness embedded in this. It’s so easy for our care for students to lead us to lowering expectations— which in the end just creates chaos and an unsafe learning environment. I really appreciate you rooting your analysis in a story, so we can see how it played out.