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Social and emotional pedagogies:

critiquing the new orthodoxy of
emotion in classroom behaviour
management
a
Val Gillies
a
Families & Social Capital Research Group , London South Bank
University , 103 Borough Road, London, SE1 OAA, UK
Published online: 09 Mar 2011.
To cite this article: Val Gillies (2011) Social and emotional pedagogies: critiquing the new
orthodoxy of emotion in classroom behaviour management, British Journal of Sociology of
Education, 32:2, 185-202, DOI: 10.1080/01425692.2011.547305
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British Journal of Sociology of Education
Vol. 32, No. 2, March 2011, 185–202
Social and emotional pedagogies: critiquing the new orthodoxy of

emotion in classroom behaviour management
Val Gillies*
Families & Social Capital Research Group, London South Bank University, 103
Borough Road, London, SE1 OAA, UK

(Received 19 April 2010; final version received 6 September 2010)
Taylor and Francis Ltd
CBSE_A_547305.sgm
British
10.1080/01425692.2011.547305
0142-5692
Original
Taylor
202011
32
gilliev@lsbu.ac.uk
ValGillies
00000March
&
Journal
Article
Francis
(print)/1465-3346
2010
of Sociology of(online)
Education
This paper examines new structured attempts to address and manage

emotions in the classroom. Critical analysis focuses on the broad
emotional literacy agenda operating within schools, and more specifically
the Social and Emotional Aspects of Learning (SEAL) programme. Data
are drawn on from an ethnographic study located in Behaviour Support
Units in three mainstream, inner-city comprehensives to highlight the gap
between the ‘rational emotionality’ being promoted and the fraught, and
often uncontainable, emotions that drive everyday school life. It is also
argued that the therapeutic model underpinning SEAL activities in schools
risks individualising and thereby misinterpreting socially and culturally
embedded difference, pathologising particular pupils in the process.
Keywords: inclusion; SEAL; emotionality; exclusion; behaviour support
Behaviour management in schools and the new orthodoxy of emotion

The past decade or so has seen a huge surge of interest in the realm of
emotions. As part of a cultural preoccupation with therapy, a new signifi-
cance is being attributed to feelings and introspective analysis as a means of
understanding and addressing longstanding social issues and problems
(Ecclestone and Hays 2008; Illouz 2008; Furedi 2004). This contemporary
preoccupation is played out across a range of sites, with therapeutic discourse
pervading cultural understandings and representations. Emotionality as an
ethos has spread across formal structural social networks, spanning business,
media, politics, education, welfare, criminal justice and law as well as
cultural meanings and practices. Articulated through concepts of emotional
literacy and emotional intelligence, emphasis is placed on recognising and
managing feelings. Eva Illouz (2008) describes this in terms of an ‘emotional
style’ characterised by specific techniques for apprehending and regulating
social relationships.
*Email: gilliev@lsbu.ac.uk
ISSN 0142-5692 print/ISSN 1465-3346 online
© 2011 Taylor & Francis
DOI: 10.1080/01425692.2011.547305
http://www.informaworld.com
186 V. Gillies
While many commentators have produced trenchant critiques of the

implicit individualism structuring the cultural foregrounding of affect
(Burman 2009; Ecclestone and Hays 2008; Furedi 2004; Moskowitz 2001;
Cushman 1995), current government approaches to social policy are infused
with this emotional style. More specifically, policy-makers’ attentions have
shifted away from structures and processes, towards a focus on personal skills
and self-efficacy. From this perspective, the state should facilitate the produc-
tion of resourceful, agentic, ethically responsible and emotionally competent
citizen. Efforts to mould individual subjectivity are most clearly seen in the
current policy preoccupation with parenting and childhood development
(Gillies 2008). Claims that inadequate parenting has led to an epidemic of

poorly adjusted children has underpinned a new emphasis on mental health.
More specifically, education policy has become increasingly concerned
with children’s personal growth and psychological stability. Schools roles
have been extended to include both the active monitoring of pupils’ well-being
and the explicit teaching of ‘emotional and social skills’.
This paper critically considers the philosophy behind this new emotional
pedagogy, and examines how such emotionally styled curriculums play out in
classrooms in the specific context of behaviour management. Drawing on data
from an ethnographic study of pupils at risk of school exclusion, the flat, ratio-
nal and easily detachable emotional ideals constituting such inputs are
contrasted with the fraught, impassioned reality of everyday school life. Also
highlighted is the extent to which socially embedded investments, power rela-
tions and issues around justice and equality are obscured through a focus on
personal control and emotional stability.
Emotions in the classroom

Educational institutions, schools in particular, have an uneasy relationship
with emotions. Following an enlightenment tradition, western concepts of
education reproduce a dualistic hierarchy stressing the pre-eminence of mental
faculties. Schools are primarily charged with educating the mind and sharpen-
ing reason, while the body is sidelined or interpreted as problematic (Paechter
2006). Emotions, as non-cognitive processes, are viewed as disrupting the
mind, preventing it from functioning objectively and rationally. Classrooms
require ‘docile bodies and disembodied minds’ (Davis 2005, 525), with ideal
learners constructed as rational, detached and physically subdued. As Jane
Roland Martin (1994) notes, the alternative to the disembodied scholar is the
‘mindless body’ associated with vocational training conducted outside the
classroom. Feminists have long criticised this mind/body split, highlighting
the way it maps onto male and female binaries to marginalise women (Price
and Shildrick 1999; Shildrick 1997). Liberal educationists have also champi-
oned a more holistic understanding of pupils, pointing to the impact of affect
and embodied identity on learning. However, this concern has been reflected
British Journal of Sociology of Education 187
in a very specific and highly regulated approach to emotions in the classroom.

More specifically, education policy has sought to inculcate children with
‘emotional skills’ through the taught curriculum in schools.
Inspired by the work of US psychologist Daniel Goleman, claims are made
that greater emotional intelligence (or EQ) will improve pupils’ conduct,
attainment and well-being (Department for Education and Skills [DfES]
2005). Anxieties about a perceived deterioration in classroom discipline have
been a key factor driving this effort to address the impact of emotionality on
learning. Fears have also coalesced around the mental health of particular
young people who are viewed as dangerous, disruptive and uncontrollable.
According to Goleman, aggression, violence, impulsivity and school disen-

gagement result from an inability to recognise and address emotions. New
social pressures and poor parenting have lead to an ‘emotional malaise’ requir-
ing urgent action (Goleman 1997). Such claims have underpinned a range of
school programmes and initiatives designed to teach and nurture emotional
literacy as a way of tackling anti-social behaviour and other social problems.
Once viewed as inappropriate in an educational context, emotionality has
become curriculum subject in its own right.
Recognition that emotions are essentially and unavoidably human has
resulted in a new focus on uncontrolled emotionality as a threat to learning
and wellbeing. As guidance from the Department for Education makes clear,
feelings are viewed as distracting, confusing the mind and overloading
concentration:
We only have to imagine trying to learn a new skill when our brain’s processing
capacity is fighting for space against strong emotion – for example, rage with
the driver who just cut us up at the traffic lights, or raw excitement following the
news that we have just won the lottery! (DfES 2005, 7)
Consequently, acknowledgement that pupils are emotional beings has trans-

lated into to a new learning goal of being able to abstract feelings in order to
better manage them. As the term ‘emotional literacy’ implies, students should
be able to read and speak their emotions fluently in a classroom context rather
than actually succumb to them. In the process of ‘getting in touch with’ and
reflecting on emotions, the feelings themselves must be distanced, held in
check and be open to modification (Furedi 2004). Somewhat paradoxically,
then, the actual display of emotions in the context of the classroom marks out
the emotionally illiterate.
This new concern with identifying and managing affect is demonstrated in
a systematic attempt to instil ‘emotional skills’. A nationwide schools initiative
– Social and Emotional Aspects of Learning (SEAL) – now operates at primary
and secondary level with the aim of providing ‘a whole-curriculum framework
and resource for teaching social, emotional and behavioural skills to all pupils’
(DfES 2005, 6). Adapted from Goleman’s work on emotional intelligence, the
SEAL strategy centres on five core domains of: self-awareness, managing
188 V. Gillies
feelings, empathy, motivation and social skills. The principles of SEAL are
intended to inform and guide the day-to-day running of schools, alongside
structured lessons designed to equip students with the relevant competencies.
The focus on emotional literacy builds on a recent but more established
concern with well-being, and more specifically self-esteem. The notion that
feelings about self determine life success underlies a highly individualistic
approach that attributes an array of social problems to poor self-esteem and its
corollary low aspiration. For example, social exclusion is commonly
represented as psychological barrier to social and economic opportunities
(Ecclestone and Hays 2008).
Self-esteem has been particularly influential in the field of education,

where it has been described as the ‘yeast in the recipe of learning’ (Van Ness
1995, 1). As Katherine Ecclestone and Dennis Hays (2008) highlight, educa-
tors have enthusiastically embraced the idea that self-esteem is intimately
related to social justice, designing and instigating a variety of initiatives to
boost confidence and self-worth in failing schools. More recently the concern
with raising learners’ self-esteem has been assimilated within the SEAL strat-
egy, with the concept of emotional intelligence. Couched in characteristically
emotive, ‘feel good’ language, policy literature promotes SEAL in a style that
deflects argument and disarms criticism. For example, a guidance document
for secondary schools states that:
Social and emotional skills are a key component of an emotionally healthy,

inclusive school culture that helps all pupils succeed and which values and cele-
brates diversity. The key skill of self-awareness helps all members of a school
community to recognise and face their own prejudices and intolerances. This is
the first step to tackling them. Empathy is central to developing a concern for,
and understanding of, others, both recognising our common humanity, and
acknowledging and celebrating social, cultural and individual difference. (DfES
2007, 13)
The translation of SEAL goals into rhetoric about inclusion, common

humanity and celebration of diversity presents a wholly positive picture of an
unquestionable social good. As Carol Craig (2009) notes, this ‘childhood and
apple pie’ vision is difficult to critique without seeming to position oneself
against children’s well-being. The broadly uncontroversial tenet that emotions
are central to learning obscures the deep unease that many theorists and educa-
tionalists have expressed about policy conclusions that have followed. Terms
such as emotional literacy, emotional intelligence and emotional skills (and
accompanying concepts like ‘self-esteem’) are notoriously slippery and ill-
defined. Numerous critics have highlighted their constant elision, weak
evidence base and oversimplistic logic (see Ecclestone and Hays 2008; Craig
2008, 2009; Claxton 2005; Matthews, Zeidner, and Roberts 2004; Furedi
2004). Little in the way of hard evidence is available to support the long
list of benefits attributed to ‘emotional skills’, including improvements in
attainment, behaviour, attendance, well-being and confidence. Also as Guy

Claxton notes, SEAL is embedded in a language of pseudo-science, or as he
calls it ‘neurobabble’ (2005, 28), presenting highly contentious assertions
about the brain, emotions and learning behaviour as fact.
A broad alignment of SEAL initiatives with social inclusion, an anti-
bullying stance and a commitment to enhancing child mental health appeals to
many professionals and parents offering an apparently progressive approach to
enduring social problems. However, close analysis of the policy literature and
the interventions currently operating in schools reveals altogether more
conventional, traditionalist agenda. Conceptually convoluted, often fuzzy
ideas frame a common theme of recognising feelings in order to better manage

them. In terms of SEAL, this key objective overrides the characteristic liberal
reformist language for an emphasis on control and regulation, with proponents
recommending ‘concrete experiences of demonstration and some rote learn-
ing’ for young children (Weare 2004 cited in Craig 2007). The basic remit of
social and personal control is evident in the close association of SEAL with
school behaviour management programmes. Goleman’s dire warnings of the
violent, dysfunctional consequences of ‘emotional malaise’ resonate with
public and political anxieties about ‘anti-social behaviour’ and ‘feral youth’.
In line with this new therapeutic model, the language used to define trouble-
some pupils has shifted. Once described in terms of disruption or disaffection,
young people with challenging behaviour (particularly boys) are now
commonly diagnosed with conditions such as ‘conduct disorder’, ‘emotional
and social difficulties’ or even ‘oppositional defiance disorder’ (Harwood
2006).
While this instrumental targeting of emotionality in the classroom repre-
sents a substantial shift in education policy, there has been little empirical
research exploring the everyday implications for pupils and teachers. Detailed
ethnographic work in inner-city secondary schools reveals how regulatory
therapeutic discourses are interpreted and appropriated in practice, highlight-
ing the gap between policy assumptions and everyday school life.
The research framework

The data informing this paper are drawn from an Economic and Social
Research Council-funded study of pupils at risk of school exclusion. 1 This
ethnographic participatory study focused on 12-year-old to 15-year-old pupils
attending Behaviour Support Units (BSUs) 2 in mainstream secondary schools
located in disadvantaged inner-city areas. Fieldwork spanned over the course
of two years with the researchers based in three secondary schools, two co-
educational schools and one single-sex girls’ school. The aim of the research
was to explore the personal resources drawn on by pupils attending behaviour
support interventions, and the social and material realities shaping subjectivity
and practice.
190 V. Gillies
A total of 73 pupils participated in the study, 24 young women and 49

young men. Pupils came from a range of ethnic backgrounds including white,
Black African and Black Caribbean, Turkish, Eastern European, South East
Asian and mixed heritage. A majority of the sample were from black and
minority ethnic communities, reflecting the general make up of the units.
Methods included participant observation, group activity work and interviews
with pupils, their parents and key staff in the schools (see Gillies and Robinson
2010a for a more detailed discussion of the fieldwork). As we have discussed
elsewhere, BSU practices are highly gendered (Gillies and Robinson 2010b).
In this paper, however, I will focus predominantly on the way discourses of
social and emotional learning position certain boys as lacking skills.
Emotional institutions
The SEAL agenda was enthusiastically embraced by all three of the institu-
tions participating in our research, but the contrast between the policy rheto-
ric and the fraught and emotionally demanding environment of daily school
life was at times striking. Against the backdrop of institutionally governed
ideals of ‘emotional literacy’, unregulated and uncontainable feelings ran
high among pupils, staff and parents. Given the sensitive nature of our topic
we had predicted that our conversations with key staff in the schools might
incite some negative feelings, including suspicion, defensiveness, frustration,
anger and even despair. These were all present in abundance alongside more
positive attachments to pupils, colleagues and our research aims. However,
we were surprised at the extent to which antagonism bubbled under the
surface of day-to-day school life and how easily it was aroused by our
research. From early on in the project we encountered staff members break-
ing down into tears, making rude personal remarks about particular
colleagues or pupils, and even levelling serious allegations about conduct
within the school.
In both schools, challenging behaviour from pupils aroused powerful
emotions in overburdened, harassed mainstream staff. This is highlighted in a
field diary recording after a confrontation between and teacher and a pupil.
The teacher was clearly very annoyed and said something to the effect of ‘if we
were outside of school I would have knocked her [fucking] head off’. The
teacher also said that working with [these pupils] was not in her job description
anyway and she didn’t have do it – her priorities were with the pupils in the
mainstream school.
The teacher appeared to recover her composure soon afterward and was obvi-
ously concerned about being so loose-tongued in the presence of a researcher.
However, emotional outbursts from staff at the end of their tether were not
unusual in our study, with several teachers admitting they felt driven to near
violence. By drawing attention to these turbulent feelings the intention is not
to comment on their appropriateness, or question the professionalism of the

staff expressing them, but instead to highlight the emotionally charged nature
of daily school life. Mainstream school staff could feel overwhelmed by frus-
tration, anger and irritation when engaging with persistent misbehaviour, often
in the context of a strong commitment to teaching and learning. Specialist staff
working with the culprits of this behaviour were also emotionally motivated
by a desire to reintegrate pupils they had come to know as vulnerable and/ or
misunderstood. The BSUs in our research were run by committed staff
inspired by the close relationships they built with ‘difficult’ pupils. The differ-
ent pressures, allegiances and personal investments often set mainstream and
specialist behaviour staff against each other, resulting in acrimony and feuds.
As with every institution, micropolitics and power dynamics operate beneath
the surface, fuelled by emotionality and personal investment (Gillies and
Lucey 2007).
The SEAL programme encourages teachers to consider their own social
and emotional skills as part of staff development activities, but the broad
assumption is that staff are already proficient and practicing. The calm,
emotionally flat ideal encouraged through SEAL not only overlies a consider-
ably more turbulent reality, it also denies the significance of passion as a moti-
vator. While identified as a core domain, motivation in the SEAL literature is
an oddly self-contained concept. Centring on self-determination, and positive
belief, motivation is described as a ‘skill’ associated with goal orientation.
From this perspective, emotions derail rather than inspire intended action. Yet,
as our conversations and research interviews established, the staff in the
schools were emotionally driven and often passionate about their work. While
experiencing a wealth of stressful and difficult feelings, most were highly
committed and passionate. This intense emotional connection to the work
could make for an unconvincing arena in which to teach techniques of
emotional restraint, as pupils themselves often recognised.
Emotionality and pedagogic boundaries

For the pupils talking part in our research, the expression of feelings regularly
led them into trouble. The acting out of emotions in the classroom (particularly
those perceived as ‘negative’) could be a quick-fire route to exclusion.
Emotions remain deeply subversive in the school context, with the SEAL
framework requiring that anger, frustration, boredom, fear, indignation, jeal-
ousy (alongside more positive experiences of humour and excitement) are
reflected upon in a calm, detached manor with their attendant behaviours
safely contained. From this perspective, model pupils are ‘rationally
emotional’, capable of suspending, surveying and modifying affect through its
subjection to the higher power of the intellect. The value attached to emotional
reflexivity operates as part of a discursive web positioning and defining pupils
against explicit and implicit ideals that are racialised, classed and gendered. As
192 V. Gillies
Deborah Youdell (2006) notes, this operates through a normative framework

of hierarchical binaries, with bad pupils defined in terms of what they lack in
relation to good pupils. An emotionally literate/illiterate distinction has been
mapped on to this schema determining how students progress and are
progressed. For those furthest away from the white, middle-class ‘ideal client’
described by David Gillborn (1990), this becomes yet another area in which
they are viewed as failing.
Despite the ostensive emphasis placed on sharing emotions in the class-
room, the SEAL activities were structured by unspoken boundaries that
limited the feelings and thoughts pupils were permitted to voice. Only certain
forms of emotional expression were sanctioned and these were monitored

carefully by the teacher. If boundaries were breached (as they often were), an
opportunity was taken to expose the inappropriateness of a feeling or thought
and an effort was made to inculcate a more suitable response. For example, a
field diary entry illustrates how discussion within a circle time activity 3 on the
topic of ‘My favourite possession’ was highly regulated:
Joseph, went first, ‘My most favourite possession, well I haven’t got it yet, but
it’s gonna be my car which I’m gonna get when I’m sixteen. And I’m gonna
drive around with my jack [gun] and prang, prang, prang [i.e., shoot] up the
place’. Of course, [the teacher] had much to say about this admission, why it
wasn’t a sensible thing to say, the fact that a number of pupils in the class had
been in trouble with the police and this was not where they should be heading
etc. [The teacher’s] words seemed to have effect, if only momentarily, as Joseph
looked a little ashamed as it sunk in that this really wasn’t a cool thing to have
said. In fact, when he said it, one of the other pupils [namely Zoe the only girl
in the class] shook her head disapprovingly.
As this example demonstrates, attempts to address issues of emotionality

within the classroom tend to focus on teaching pupils how to express socially
appropriate thoughts. The purpose of the forum was not to explore the feelings
driving Joseph’s violent fantasy, but to reinforce their unacceptable nature
using group disapprobation. As we discovered during the course of our
research, probing in the context of similarly disturbing admissions highlighted
their socially grounded nature. For example, Armani – a 13-year-old pupil and
research participant – recounted a fantasy similar in content to Joseph’s class-
room faux pas. In response to our group discussion about superpowers it
would be good to possess, he expressed a wish to be able to ‘shoot up all the
boys in his neighbourhood’. Non-judgemental questioning around this sugges-
tion revealed a strong sense of vulnerability, characteristic of many of the
young men taking part in our research. Armani did not feel safe on the streets
and longed for the source of this threat to be removed. Themes of risk, threat
and protection often framed debates within our sessions (particularly amongst
older pupils). Although commonly conveyed through a macho focus on fights,
weapons and crime, the young men tended to present themselves as victims
rather than perpetrators.
The broader context to this preoccupation with violence and fear is the
hazardous environment these young people are forced to navigate on a day-to-
day basis. The catchment district for all three schools covers an area of
extreme deprivation and high crime. During the course of our fieldwork, three
teenagers known to our research participants were fatally stabbed while two of
the participants themselves were hospitalised with knife wounds. A majority
of the young men in our research had fallen victim to of street robbery or
violence and most were aware of criminal activities such as drug dealing
or dog fighting taking place in the immediate vicinity of their homes. Some of
the older pupils themselves faced difficult choices about their involvement in
illegal activity, having to balance a complicated set of risks and opportunities.

As well as negotiating the harsh realities of urban life, most of the young
people were coping with more personal challenges such as poverty, domestic
violence, homelessness bereavement and family illness. Although teachers
might recognise the significance of these wider issues and experiences, their
capacity to meaningfully address them and the emotions they provoke was
limited given their role and status within the conventional education system,
and their lack of any relevant training. The central place accorded to judge-
ments of right and wrong in the classroom leaves little room for teachers to
comfortably engage with the alternative moral frameworks that might struc-
ture some young people’s lives without pathologising or misinterpreting. For
example, the insistence by a majority of the young men in our sample that
carrying a weapon might be justified must necessarily be dismissed and
rebuked by teachers. Efforts to explore the reasoning behind such statements
are risky in that they might reveal a level of threat school staff themselves
could find difficult to dismiss or deal with. Teachers appeared sensitive to this
danger and carefully policed pedagogic boundaries. For example, a BSU
manager who organised various circle time groups described how she often
had to remove pupils who were too forthcoming.
In a workshop you might realise, very quickly, that, ‘This is not the appropriate
support for you’. … and that’s happened before, where, you know, some girl is
talking so inappropriately about stuff, that ‘This is not the right place for you to
be talking about, you know, sharing your, your home life here’.
The politics of emotions

During the course of our research the culturally specific values underpinning
definitions of emotional skill became ever clearer. Teacher evaluations and the
exercises they pursued were firmly grounded in British/western cultural view-
points, reproducing normative assumptions about development, autonomy and
personal expression. Curriculum resources supporting the SEAL initiative
appear to assume a white, privileged standpoint, in which ‘difficult feelings’
rarely involve anything more testing than rowing with friends or feeling
left out. There is no pedagogically acceptable language for voicing the fear,
194 V. Gillies
violence, hardship and racism that shaped the lives of the pupils in our
research. As we found, poignant, matter-of-fact accounts given by pupils
evoked a range of emotions in key staff (and ourselves as researchers), includ-
ing sadness, concern, anxiety and anger, which might translate into difficult
feelings of impotence in the face of such social injustice. While this could
relate to young people’s personal experiences such as housing or immigration
insecurity, being victimised or not having access to basic resources, teachers
also struggled when faced with wider issues. This is highlighted by a field
diary entry during the time when the case of a missing child (Madeline
McCain) was dominating the news headlines:
The pupils were finding stories on the internet to talk about assisted by [a
teacher, a teaching assistant and a mentor]. [12 year old] Linden and some of the
others were gathered round a computer screen with the image of Madeline, the
little girl abducted in Portugal. They used a Jamaican slang word ‘buttass’, to
describe her as ugly. Linden said ‘if I was kidnapped nobody would make this
much fuss’ and some of the other pupils thought about it and agreed. He said
something similar several times (if it was just some kid from [deprived area] no
one would care etc.). He seemed quite angry, and the teacher struggled to
address his point. She said that might be true to a certain extent but that they
should think about the poor little girl that this has actually happened to. Linden
and the others didn’t seem very impressed.
The contrast between Linden and Madeline is sharp. In many ways the image
of Madeline embodies white privilege, particularly for Linden, a black, work-
ing-class child from a stigmatised area of London. As the daughter of two
doctors from a well-to-do Leicestershire village, her disappearance was met
with almost wall-to-wall media coverage and international appeals for infor-
mation. While there is no denying the tragic and troubling nature of the case,
it is hard to imagine that the abduction of a poor black child would receive
anything like the same kind of publicity. Linden’s anger and voicing of this
unspoken truth made the teacher uncomfortable and her response was an inef-
fective request to express empathy instead.
This kind of encounter was not unusual for Linden. Throughout the course
of our research we came to know him as sharp-witted and passionate about
issues of social justice. While his volatile anger and frustration led him to the
brink of permanent exclusion, it was often powered by political sensitivities.
For example, when faced with pictures of British prime ministers hanging in
a school corridor he demanded to know why none of them were black. As Guy
Claxton (2005) points out, there are many political activists who value the
righteous anger that fires their commitment and beliefs. Rather than indicating
psychological immaturity, the emotional responses of pupils like Linden might
be read in terms of challenging a school system that reproduces unjustifiable
inequity. As Claxton asks, ‘If we all develop our Emotional Intelligence, and
we restrain our aggression and deploy our empathy, will there be anyone left
to ask hard questions about what is going on around us?’ (2005, 22).
Underpinned by a language of developmental psychology, the SEAL initia-

tive foregrounds the personal determinants of educational exclusion at the
expense of broader contextualisation. As the SEAL guidance to secondary
schools makes clear, teachers are to focus on the emotional antecedents of
disruptive conduct rather than the behaviour in question (DfES 2007, 11).
While this is presented as a progressive, understanding approach that avoids
punitive rule enforcement, it can work in practice to infantilise and disem-
power young people. Emotional responses like anger, outrage or hurt become
detached from the circumstances that provoked them and were viewed as
symptoms of a deeper problem. This allows little space for pupils’ own
accounts of false accusations, misunderstandings or unreasonable teacher

behaviour. With their actions stripped of meaning or intent in this way, chal-
lenging pupils are denied agency while institutions are denied an opportunity
to critically examine their own practices and procedures. It might be argued
that this encourages a complacent and socially irresponsible approach, partic-
ularly given the disproportionate numbers of ethnic minority and/or poor
students excluded from school each year.
The emphasis on underlying emotional causes of challenging conduct in
the classroom can also lead to a particular behaviour or incident marking out
personal pathology, with no space separating pupils’ actions from who they
are at an integral level. For example, pupils who get into regular fights are
likely to be viewed as having anger problems regardless of the circumstances,
which (as I will outline further on in this paper) might involve intimidation,
fear and self-protection. The therapeutic ethos embodied within SEAL encour-
ages informal diagnosis of perceived problems experienced by pupils in order
for support to be tailored accordingly. However, a lack of any explicit training
in this therapeutic framework ensured that observations were highly subjective
and responses patchy. Kate Blackman, manager of one of the BSUs, described
how Teaching Assistants were assigned to year groups to follow pupils and
take notes on behaviour and needs. Kate was clearly a caring and dedicated
teacher, but without formal therapeutic training she relied on an eclectic mix
of popular psychology in assessing and supporting pupils.
I mean, we’ve had Harry Dunbar this year, who’s a very tall lad, a bit chubby,
very blond, ADHD, a bit camp, erm, was in cheer leading at primary school!
[laughter] Quite bright, but also [pause] you know, there’s social needs there,
and emotional needs. He’s very [pause] yeah, a bit of [pause] maybe a bit of
autism.
While Harry was not involved in our research, Kate’s description and tenta-
tive diagnosis of autism reveals how this individualistic gaze might risk
distorting and obscuring the wider social context. Harry’s problems are firmly
located within his ‘needy’ and developmentally challenged self, with little
consideration given to the pervasive and often vicious culture of homophobia
that flourished within the school. Our conversations with the other pupils at
196 V. Gillies
the school left us in little doubt about how a ‘camp’ boy interested in cheer-
leading would have been received. Yet Harry’s problems in relating to others
are viewed solely in terms of personal deficit, and he is removed from main-
stream classrooms in which sexual bullying is rife, in order to receive help.
This example also highlights the normative pull of such therapeutic
discourses. As Kate’s laughter in the above quote indicates, Harry’s manor and
interests are viewed as eccentric and socially incongruous. Distinctions
between emotional disturbance and lack of social conformity can be complex
and inevitably reflect and reinforce a range of gendered, racialised and classed
assumptions (Burman 2009).
Managing anger
As our research suggests, SEAL initiatives encourage institutions to look
beyond the socially embedded experiences of pupils to identify individual
deficits. In the process, significant everyday factors contributing or exacerbat-
ing disruptive conduct in the classroom can be overlooked, while the complex
social and emotional interactions characterising pupils’ lives and experiences
are misinterpreted or go unnoticed. For example, large numbers of young men
were referred to the BSUs because of aggressive behaviour that might include
fighting, swearing, throwing objects and making violent threats and some-
times carrying them out. This was invariably construed as indicating an anger
management problem, and offending pupils were made to attend classes
designed to equip them with techniques for controlling their temper. Anger
management classes were a staple BSU provision in all three schools. These
were run internally by members of staff who taught basic methods distilled
from cognitive behavioural therapy, such as staying calm, recognising patterns
and counting to 10. While pupils could find these techniques useful, aggres-
sive acting out often continued regardless.
Anger was a theme we explored in some detail with pupils during the
course of our research, discovering its expression was characterised by high
levels of ambivalence and contradiction. Large numbers (although not all)
accepted they had anger problems, but we found many of these pupils were
also personally invested in this diagnosis. While they might acknowledge
intrinsic anger difficulties and emphasise their desire to change, conversations
often revealed deeper and more positive meanings associated with being an
angry person. Marcus, a 15-year-old Black Caribbean pupil, confessed to us
that he had anger management issues he needed to work through. While in our
sessions Marcus was charming, reflexive and insightful, he was regularly
involved in fights inside and outside school and had been attending various
groups within a BSU for several years. In a classroom context, Marcus readily
accepted the dominant construction of anger as a negative problematic
emotion, but in our research interview he provided a more telling account of
the power and control his anger can generate.
Like when I’m angry, people can’t stop me, they have to just let me do what I do,
because I’m gonna switch on you … For some reason when I’m angry, and I
have to do something, I will do it, and then I will calm down. I cannot calm
down and not do it … I don’t have, er, like, er, second thoughts. I don’t think of
any. Once, something is in my mind, once I have a task to do something, I’m
doing it, I’m not gonna, I’m not gonna worry about this, or worry about that,
I will just do it. I don’t know … it’s like I don’t have no fear, I don’t know, I
just go into a different world. Everybody knows that. ‘Don’t touch Marcus’.
While Marcus portrays his anger as a somewhat mysterious compelling force,

he describes its effect as liberating him from uncertainty and anxiety. Accord-
ing to Marcus his fury triggers determination, purpose and fearlessness, and
has earned him a formidable reputation amongst other pupils and potential
contenders on the street. This protective function of anger was highly signifi-
cant for Marcus and many of the other young men in our study. White hot fury
in the context of serious threat could be experienced as a valuable strength, as
Marcus articulates in his account of being confronted with a knife:
Outside of school, like, if stuff happened, I’m gonna try and defend myself. I’m
not gonna stay there and … Cos, one time, when we was at a bus, one boy tried
to stab me, so I had to try to defend myself. He barge into me, and I just looked
at him and went ‘what?’ It’s just like people that wanna start hype [trouble] …
Because me, like, if someone says, like, ‘I’m gonna stab you’, that’s like taking
my life, so I’m just gonna … I go berserk … he’s showed me his knife. So then
I’ve come after him, and he, like, once he saw my, my reaction, he’s backed
away. I mean, I was. I went for him, and he just ran off.
Like Marcus, Jake – a 13-year-old white pupil – was also the focus of anger
management interventions. His aggressive outbursts had begun at primary
school and he had been excluded on numerous occasions. He was generally
calm and thoughtful in the research sessions, but in a classroom context he
could be provoked by groups of pupils. Jake was slightly overweight and his
clothes were tattered, worn and sometimes a bit dirty. His mother struggled to
keep him in school uniform and he often wore tracks suit bottoms and tee-
shirts instead. He explained how he had been bullied from a young age by two
boys in particular, and he described the powerful effect of losing his temper
and fighting back:
There was this train thing, and he climbed to the top, and I kicked him off. And
after that he stopped bullying me. And another one say, ‘Just because you beat
up one of my friends, don’t mean I’ll stop bullying you’, and then he, he laughed
at me, he laughed at my dungarees and said, ‘Where did your mum get that?
Oxfam?’ And then I punched his teeth out. … But after that day, no one bullied
me.
Jake continued to lose his temper regularly at secondary school, often in

response to goading from other pupils. In one orchestrated incident a group of
pupils had been throwing pens at him until he exploded and punched his
198 V. Gillies
computer screen. Another similar incident saw him excluded when he

retrieved the pens and furiously threw them back, narrowly missing a teacher.
While a Daniel Goleman-inspired reading of Marcus and Jake’s behaviour
might identity uncontrolled aggression, a more sociological analysis high-
lights the relational dynamics shaping and informing the acting out of
emotions. As Megan Bolar (1999) notes, such emotions are always situated
within social hierarchies embodying and mediating power relationships.
Marcus and Jake (and many others in the BSUs) drew on their anger as a
functional and instrumental resource to negotiate and re-negotiate relation-
ships inside and outside school. Prevailing interpretations of anger as a poten-
tially dangerous psychological flaw could intensify its significance and effect.
Some pupils actively cultivated the image that they were ‘mad’ or unhinged,
with one 13-year-old boy proudly explaining how his wild, volatile behaviour
had earned the nickname ‘crazy kid’. However, investing in this kind of
intimidating identity could be a risky strategy. Unboundaried expression of
anger not only led to school exclusion, it could also raise the stakes in physi-
cal conflicts. Shortly after we had completed our work with Marcus, he was
confronted and stabbed outside the school in the middle of the day. The
expression of anger as a protective force relies on its impact to overwhelm
and frighten, in turn encouraging ever more extreme displays of anger and
power in response. Marcus recovered in hospital but did not come back to
school.
Exploring social and emotional connections

As has been demonstrated, current efforts to address the social and emotional
aspects of learning through the SEAL programme rely on heavily individual-
ised conceptions of self and other. From this perspective, emotions are viewed
as personal cognitive functions, with even social communication rooted firmly
and exclusively in the domain of separate individuals who must learn how to
connect appropriately with each other. Particular concern has been expressed
about a perceived failure of many young people to develop the necessary rela-
tional competencies to cooperate with others and become responsible citizens
(for example, see Margo et al. 2006). This is addressed in the SEAL
programme through a dedicated focus on ‘social skills’ and ‘empathy’ as core
subjects and learning objectives. Specific aims are for pupils to develop ability
to ‘build and maintain relationships, belong to groups, solve interpersonal
problems, understand the thoughts and feelings of others while also valuing
and supporting them’ (DfES 2007, 6).
Most of the young people in our sample were viewed by teachers as having
‘social difficulties’ because of their conflictual relations with school staff or
other pupils. However, during the course of our research we were often struck
by the quality, depth and sophistication of the relationships most appeared to
sustain with family and friends. They expressed strong values around loyalty,
trust and responsibility and emphasised the importance of friends and particu-
larly family (see Gillies 2010) Interviews with parents confirmed this picture
of their socially integrated lives, sometimes revealing hidden dimensions such
as caring practices towards sick relatives, younger siblings, nieces or nephews.
We also discovered that many of the most challenging pupils experienced
close, trusting relationships with BSU staff (particularly mentors). There was
little sign of the social corrosion and disconnection characterising Daniel
Goleman’s account of contemporary troubled youth.
This observation is not to downplay or trivialise the problems many pupils
experienced and caused, or the troubling and troublesome behaviour that was
acted out in the classroom. As we witnessed, pupils could be abusive to teach-

ers and cruel and brutal towards one another. Yet the challenging behaviour
we encountered was more often associated with social connectedness than its
absence. Breeched social codes, moral frameworks, personal loyalty and
misplaced humour tended to drive confrontations. Where bullying occurred it
was mainly carried out as a group activity. Furthermore, pupils emphasised a
strong sense of social belonging, displaying allegiances to (amongst other
things) their ethnic groups, neighbourhood, schools and even form groups.
Serious large-scale fights between these factions were not uncommon.
Shared understandings and sympathies underpinned the social relation-
ships maintained and valued by the young people in our research, but their
expression of ‘empathy’ rarely matched the model enshrined in the SEAL
literature. The sanctioned ‘emotionally literate’ approach to empathy articu-
lates what Eva Illouz terms a ‘reflexive selfhood’, consisting of a ‘peculiar
mix of self-interest and sympathy, of attention to oneself and manipulation of
others’ (2008, 93). From this perspective, empathy becomes a strategic tech-
nique designed to better manage social encounters. Developing a good under-
standing of another’s point of view and expressing sympathy can represent an
effective method of securing personal gain, particularly in corporate environ-
ments. In the SEAL programme the concept of empathy is tied to conflict
management and the promotion of tolerance, with pupils encouraged to
search for ‘win–win’ situations. However, this negotiation-centred ethos is
advocated for pupils in the context of more traditional institutional bound-
aries. School staff are expected to maintain discipline, control and adult
authority, with little leeway to practice conciliation and tolerance. Pupils
were well used to the exercise of raw power in their everyday lives and
tended to find direct conflict the most effective way of resisting or gaining
influence.
Contrary to the SEAL ideal, conflict and rows were central to everyday
interactions in the BSUs. Even close friends fought furiously, loudly and
sometimes physically. Significantly, however, these volatile exchanges were
usually quickly forgotten, and it was often difficult to distinguish between play
fights and more serious disputes. Power struggles between pupils and a culture
of sparring and mocking one another characterised and sustained their social
200 V. Gillies
relationships. Nevertheless, in this context pupils could be quite controlled

about which kinds of emotions they expressed. While anger, frustration, indig-
nation and humour were acted out with theatrical intensity, sadness, fear and
anxiety were often managed in a more sophisticated way. For example,
distressing or disturbing events such as local teenage stabbings were often
discussed in a seemingly emotionless manner. As was mentioned earlier, the
case of the abducted child Madeline caught the imagination of the pupils, who
appeared to follow the news story carefully. The topic was often spontane-
ously raised during our sessions triggering debates about where her body
might be hidden or the perceived incompetence of the Portuguese police.
These discussions were plainly emotionally driven, but the horror and confu-
sion provoked by the case were managed through lurid conversations and
humour. From a SEAL perspective, this bypassing of social taboos and
conventions is indicative of poor social skills and low emotional intelligence.
Yet this kind of talk effectively worked to defuse difficult feelings while
fostering supportive social bonds.
The strong and often challenging emotions expressed by the young people
in our research could obscure remarkable abilities to repress and contain feel-
ings. Personal traumas, hardships and worries were commonly normalised and
discussed as if they were everyday annoyances. Affect rarely featured in the
telling of these experiences, with pupils ignoring emotional consequences and
preferring to present themselves as in control. Sometimes, no mention was
made at all of the serious anxieties they were dealing with. In an interview
with 12-year-old Linden’s mother we discovered she was seriously ill. She
produced a heartrending letter he had written while she was in hospital,
conveying just how worried he had been throughout the period we were work-
ing with him. Linden’s behaviour had at times been extremely challenging, but
he was also good humoured and enthusiastic. He had really seemed to enjoy
our sessions and we had no suspicion that he was particularly troubled. For
Linden, it appeared, silence and lack of reflexivity was an effective coping
strategy. While his emotions could bubble up into problematic displays of
frustration or over-exuberance, he made it to school every day, participated
eagerly in BSU activities and was popular with other pupils. It might be spec-
ulated that Linden valued school, precisely because it provided respite from
(rather than a forum for) his difficult feelings.
Conclusion
This paper has critically explored understandings and expressions of emotion
within secondary school BSUs in the context of SEAL programmes. Through
an appropriation of a therapeutic language of feelings and affect, SEAL initi-
atives claim to deliver the psychological stability that learning depends upon.
However, closer examination reveals a considerably more contested and
contestable reality.
The dominant emotional literacy agenda structuring contemporary curricu-

lums contrasts sharply with the culture and experience that shapes everyday
school life. While SEAL aims to promote calm, rational manipulation of
emotions, raw and often uncontainable feelings continue to infuse encounters
in classrooms, playgrounds and staffrooms. Power dynamics, relational strug-
gle, loyalty and passion drove this emotional expression, reflecting personal
investments, hopes and fears.
As has been demonstrated, the emotional orthodoxy embodied within the
SEAL initiative has particular consequences for pupils viewed as behav-
iourally challenging. Emotions are abstracted from their social and political
context and evaluated in terms of appropriateness. Pupils who dissent from

sanctioned models of expression are marked out as personally lacking and are
removed from mainstream classrooms to receive therapeutically styled inter-
ventions. As has been demonstrated, such deficit models fail to capture the
considerably more complex and socially connected reality behind acting out in
the classroom.
Notes
1. The project, ‘Disruptive Behaviour in the Classroom: Exploring the Social Subjec-
tivity of Disaffection’, was funded by the Economic and Social Research Council
under grant number RES-061-23-0073.
2. BSUs are facilities (often self-contained) within mainstream schools and are
designed to address issues around conduct. Pupils are sent to the units for varying
amounts of time, ranging from weeks to years. The terminology used to describe
these units varied between schools. We use BSU as a generic term to describe
them all.
3. Circle time was a regular event in the BSUs and required pupils to sit in groups
with a teacher and discuss their personal feelings about a variety of issues.
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Social and emotional pedagogies: critiquing the new orthodoxy of

Borough Road, London, SE1 OAA, UK

This paper examines new structured attempts to address and manage

Behaviour management in schools and the new orthodoxy of emotion

While many commentators have produced trenchant critiques of the

(Gillies 2008). Claims that inadequate parenting has led to an epidemic of

Emotions in the classroom

in a very specific and highly regulated approach to emotions in the classroom.

According to Goleman, aggression, violence, impulsivity and school disen-

Consequently, acknowledgement that pupils are emotional beings has trans-

Self-esteem has been particularly influential in the field of education,

Social and emotional skills are a key component of an emotionally healthy,

The translation of SEAL goals into rhetoric about inclusion, common

attainment, behaviour, attendance, well-being and confidence. Also as Guy

ideas frame a common theme of recognising feelings in order to better manage

The research framework

A total of 73 pupils participated in the study, 24 young women and 49

social and emotional learning position certain boys as lacking skills.

to comment on their appropriateness, or question the professionalism of the

Emotionality and pedagogic boundaries

Deborah Youdell (2006) notes, this operates through a normative framework

forms of emotional expression were sanctioned and these were monitored

As this example demonstrates, attempts to address issues of emotionality

illegal activity, having to balance a complicated set of risks and opportunities.

The politics of emotions

Underpinned by a language of developmental psychology, the SEAL initia-

accounts of false accusations, misunderstandings or unreasonable teacher

While Marcus portrays his anger as a somewhat mysterious compelling force,

Jake continued to lose his temper regularly at secondary school, often in

computer screen. Another similar incident saw him excluded when he

Exploring social and emotional connections

acted out in the classroom. As we witnessed, pupils could be abusive to teach-

relationships. Nevertheless, in this context pupils could be quite controlled

The dominant emotional literacy agenda structuring contemporary curricu-

context and evaluated in terms of appropriateness. Pupils who dissent from

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