https://www.ft.com/content/536c0f10-5011-4329-a100-c2035e32e602 (
https://archive.md/n4wq5 )
It is high summer in the English suburbs, and the hedges around Josh’s house are cut sharp as a Lego brick. He has mown the grass to an exacting stripe and is clipping the ragged bay tree. Josh, who is 13, has few friends and spends his school holidays gardening. From inside the house, his parents watch him work, stranded between pride and despair.
For the past two years, Josh’s teachers have complained of “persistent poor behaviour”, ranging from making inappropriate comments to hitting a fellow pupil who had been taunting him. An educational psychologist concluded that Josh had autism spectrum disorder (ASD) but recommended his parents, Mike and Sarah, seek a formal NHS diagnosis. In the meantime, the school continued to sanction Josh for small infractions — forgetting his pencil or kicking a chair. His parents pointed out repeatedly that his suspected autism led him to be forgetful, lose focus and lash out when confronted. Teachers countered that his condition did not excuse his conduct.
The situation escalated during a PE lesson in June, when a teaching assistant reported that Josh had shouted, “Get them out! Reform UK” at a non-white pupil, apparently referencing the populist political party, which takes a hard line on immigration. Josh disputed having mentioned “Reform UK” and said that “get them out” was a cricketing reference, as he was bowling at the time. He was given detention, during which he wrote a story about three Asian men embarking on an ill-fated adventure to join Isis-K, the Afghan-based Islamist terror group. Their hopes of glory collapse when they are caught by counter-terror police, convicted and sent to prison. The final line reads, “Moral of the story: don’t try and join Isis-K”.
