Ian Mikardo High School, in London's east end, is the end of the line, a special school for boys aged 11-16, who have been deemed unteachable.
The boys, who have severe social, emotional and behavioural difficulties, are among the most troubled and troubling children in the country and have been excluded from their previous, mainstream schools. They are also about to appear on television, as the subjects of the latest documentary tracing the everyday ups and downs of school-life, following the hugely popular Educating Yorkshire, Essex and now the East End.
The boys' stories feature poverty and bereavement; they may have witnessed domestic violence or murder. Their homes are unstable; their accommodation is crowded and temporary. This week a new boy kicked in a window at school. It turned out his family were to be evicted the next morning and he didn't know where he was going to live.
By the end of the two part documentary, which starts next week, it is hard not to appreciate the boys' good fortune at having found themselves in the care of such an unorthodox institution, in one of the capital's poorest boroughs, Tower Hamlets.
Here there are no uniforms, no rules, no physical restraint, no bars, no isolation rooms, no detentions, no punishment. Everyone is on first name terms - staff and students. If you swear (the boys do, a lot), you will be challenged (€Language please!€) but there are no sanctions; if you walk out of class no one will force you back in, if you get in to a fight, a member of staff will intervene if it looks like someone is going to get hurt, but you won't get excluded.
The Guardian visits on the day Sir Michael Wilshaw publishes his Ofsted report on the damaging impact of low-level disruption in classrooms, in which he complains about unruly pupils humming and fidgeting. Headteacher Claire Lillis is scathing. €I can't believe this is a national report. It's a national disgrace.€
What, in turn, would Sir Michael make of the local authority funded Ian Mikardo?
In the first episode of the documentary, new boy Matthew, 13, is causing ructions. Cries of €Shut up,€ ring out, boys throw paper at each other, one spits in the other's face. In a Design Technology lesson someone holds a drill up at another child's face; Matthew puts someone in a headlock and the community police officer is called in to talk to him.
A school trip to the local ice rink ends in near chaos with children running out of control. €This is a disaster,€ admits one member of staff. €I'm phoning the police,€ says another.
In the second episode, James, 12, another new boy, refuses to talk to staff, refuses to go to class. He taunts and picks on another boy, and to everyone's alarm climbs the banister high above the staircase putting himself in danger. Humming and fidgeting don't seem to be the problem.
€If a teacher spent their time picking up on all low level incidents, students would learn very quickly how to distract the teacher from the lesson,€ says Lillis. €The skill of the teacher is to pick up on low level incidents that if ignored may escalate to a serious incident.€
She is contemptuous of Sir Michael's criticism about heads €blurring the lines between friendliness and familiarity€.
€This is incredibly superficial and a simplistic view of teaching and what matters. It is not what a teacher wears, or their name, that makes a good teacher or gains student respect, it is the quality of their teaching and the relationship that they have with their students and colleagues.
€If all of the profession suddenly wore suits would this lead to a better educated Britain?€ (Lillis is wearing a smart black shirt, jeans, red shoes, and has a few discreet piercings and tattoos.)
The boys, who have severe social, emotional and behavioural difficulties, are among the most troubled and troubling children in the country and have been excluded from their previous, mainstream schools. They are also about to appear on television, as the subjects of the latest documentary tracing the everyday ups and downs of school-life, following the hugely popular Educating Yorkshire, Essex and now the East End.
The boys' stories feature poverty and bereavement; they may have witnessed domestic violence or murder. Their homes are unstable; their accommodation is crowded and temporary. This week a new boy kicked in a window at school. It turned out his family were to be evicted the next morning and he didn't know where he was going to live.
By the end of the two part documentary, which starts next week, it is hard not to appreciate the boys' good fortune at having found themselves in the care of such an unorthodox institution, in one of the capital's poorest boroughs, Tower Hamlets.
Here there are no uniforms, no rules, no physical restraint, no bars, no isolation rooms, no detentions, no punishment. Everyone is on first name terms - staff and students. If you swear (the boys do, a lot), you will be challenged (€Language please!€) but there are no sanctions; if you walk out of class no one will force you back in, if you get in to a fight, a member of staff will intervene if it looks like someone is going to get hurt, but you won't get excluded.
The Guardian visits on the day Sir Michael Wilshaw publishes his Ofsted report on the damaging impact of low-level disruption in classrooms, in which he complains about unruly pupils humming and fidgeting. Headteacher Claire Lillis is scathing. €I can't believe this is a national report. It's a national disgrace.€
What, in turn, would Sir Michael make of the local authority funded Ian Mikardo?
In the first episode of the documentary, new boy Matthew, 13, is causing ructions. Cries of €Shut up,€ ring out, boys throw paper at each other, one spits in the other's face. In a Design Technology lesson someone holds a drill up at another child's face; Matthew puts someone in a headlock and the community police officer is called in to talk to him.
A school trip to the local ice rink ends in near chaos with children running out of control. €This is a disaster,€ admits one member of staff. €I'm phoning the police,€ says another.
In the second episode, James, 12, another new boy, refuses to talk to staff, refuses to go to class. He taunts and picks on another boy, and to everyone's alarm climbs the banister high above the staircase putting himself in danger. Humming and fidgeting don't seem to be the problem.
€If a teacher spent their time picking up on all low level incidents, students would learn very quickly how to distract the teacher from the lesson,€ says Lillis. €The skill of the teacher is to pick up on low level incidents that if ignored may escalate to a serious incident.€
She is contemptuous of Sir Michael's criticism about heads €blurring the lines between friendliness and familiarity€.
€This is incredibly superficial and a simplistic view of teaching and what matters. It is not what a teacher wears, or their name, that makes a good teacher or gains student respect, it is the quality of their teaching and the relationship that they have with their students and colleagues.
€If all of the profession suddenly wore suits would this lead to a better educated Britain?€ (Lillis is wearing a smart black shirt, jeans, red shoes, and has a few discreet piercings and tattoos.)
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