‘Troubled lads’ . Schools between pathologization,lads’ culture and social suffering in Rome

Theoretical background

There is a significant body of scientific literature questioning the ‘new’ politics of inclusion, particularly regarding the vocabulary and application of SEN policies. From an intersectional perspective, research has examined the impact of these policies in perpetuating normative structures within the school context. Pupils identified as in need of special education are more frequently subjected to multiple forms of oppression than their peers (Annamma, 2018; Benjamin, 2010; Tomlinson, 2017). Moreover, the SEN paradigm is framed by a normative structure of thinking, in which the standard for measuring students remains that of the white middle-class pupil—the ‘ideal client,’ as Gillborn (1990) summarized it. In this way, SEN policies inadvertently perpetuate, under euphemistic names, a deficit model of thinking, through which boys and girls are labelled as lacking subjects. Difficulties related to the curriculum are framed as inherent to personal characteristics, rather than resulting from the interaction between social expectations, the educational system’s structure, and students’ social backgrounds (Barton and Slee, 1999; Juva et al., 2018). In a similar vein, in Italy, where SEN policies are relatively recent, researchers have employed a Critical Discourse Analysis approach to examine how the language used in policy documents, while appearing concerned with equality, ultimately contributes to exclusion, particularly of migrant and racialized children (Migliarini, D’Alessio et al., 2018).

Although not always directly addressing SEN policies and inclusion discourses, research on working-class culture and school segregation through the lenses of gender, class, and race is also illuminating in understanding how students confront the weight of middle-class judgments and navigate their working-class identities. Against the backdrop of the pervasive mechanisms of competition in education (Gillborn and Youdell, 2000), scholars such as Ingram (2009, 2011) and Reay (2001, 2002) have highlighted the psychic costs and the subjective experiences that can be described as a cultural drama for boys and girls coming from backgrounds that do not conform to institutional expectations. Similarly, French educational research has produced a considerable amount of work on social reproduction. Of particular interest to this paper is the analysis of how students navigate ‘subaltern’ educational trajectories, which reinforce the renewed division between vocational training schools and high schools (Moreau, 2004). Strongly influenced by Bourdieu’s framework, French scholars have investigated how these students, subjected to multiple mechanisms of inferiorization and exclusion, experience their relationship with school through alternative meanings derived from street culture and remnants of working-class cultures (Lepoutre, 1997; Palheta, 2012). In this regard, in her research, Kergoat (2022) has challenged the conventional idea of the internalization of illegitimacy, introducing the concept of a ‘disobedient youth.’

In this paper, I argue that it is useful to intersect these different strands of research to ethnographically analyze how, in so-called ‘last chance’ schools (Vienne, 2008), students continuously experience institutional judgments marked by pathologization and deficit discourses. If the inflation of competition and exams, coupled with the discourse of ability, has been shown to reproduce, albeit in a euphemized form, old, racist, and hereditarian views of intelligence (Gillborn and Youdell, 2001), a renewed attention can be given to how these same out-dated categories (the stup*d, the retard*d) influence the interaction between students’ cultures and the school curriculum. In this context, particular attention should be given to the categories through which students interpret the school exam process and to the expansion of psychological sciences: the capacity of its vocabulary to shape common sense beyond existing diagnoses.

Indeed, students in the ethnographic study resist and are affected by traditional forms of academic evaluation, perceiving these moments as revealing certain ‘truths’ about themselves (Butler, 1997; Foucault, 2015). At the same time, teachers are increasingly inclined to adopt a psychological lens when interpreting unruly behavior and learning difficulties. This pseudo-scientific discourse, which intertwines social and familial explanations, circulates within the school environment, inflicting wounds and subjecting students to various forms of structural violence, marked by class, gender, and race. Moreover, in an unofficial context, such as the everyday interactions within schools, one can observe the resurgence (or persistent presence) of these ‘old’ categories that are often believed to have been swept away by history.

The Italian school system and SEN policies

The Italian secondary education system is divided into middle school (age 11 to 14) and upper secondary school, which lasts 5 years (ages 14 to 19). Upper secondary school is further divided into three main tracks: high school (HS), technical institutes (TI), and vocational institutes (VI). The choice among these options is made at the end of middle school, when teachers provide students and their families a non-binding “guidance recommendation” (Consiglio Orientativo), suggesting the most suitable educational path. In addition to the primary pathways (high school, technical, and vocational schools), there is another form of vocational education, known as vocational training centres (VC) (Centri di Formazione Professionale), which lasts 3 years. Enrolling in this program does not grant the formal right to enter university course unless the student completes an additional 2 years at another institution. Italian scholarly literature has consistently highlighted how the division of educational pathways at an early age contributes to the social reproduction of inequalities. Indeed, students are often sorted into these pathways hierarchically, influenced by factors such as gender, social class and national origin (Ballarino and Shadee, 2006; Checchi, 2010; Pitzalis, 2012; Romito, 2016).

A 2012 Italian Ministerial Directive defines the category of SEN as covering ‘three major subcategories: disability, specific neurodevelopmental disorders, and socioeconomic, linguistic, and cultural disadvantage’ (Ministerial Directive, 2012: 2, my transl.). As a result, this classification encompasses a wide range of disabilities and socio-psychological challenges, including foreign-born students, those with significant physical disabilities requiring ongoing practical support, and students with conditions ranging from Specific Learning Disorders (SLDs) to Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD). Talking about ‘borderline intellectual functioning’ (funzionamento cognitivo limite), the Directive also revives the use of Intelligence Quotient (IQ) as a measure to identify students ‘with suboptimal intellectual potential’ - a controversial indicator with documented racist and classist biases in the international scientific literature (Cohen, 2016; Gould, 1981; Roberts, 2015). As Gillborn (2010) points out, the idea of quantitatively measuring intelligence continues to pervade educational institutions.

Thus, SEN encompasses a highly differentiated spectrum of school intervention, from students officially identified as requiring a Support Teacher (ST) to the increasingly common cases that need an individualized education plan due to less severe diagnoses and needs. The increasing use of these tools can be observed in the reports of the National Institute of Statistics (ISTAT). ISTAT’s data paints a picture of inequality in the distribution and social origin of students identified as needing special attention, with technical and vocational schools enrolling the highest number of SEN students. Its 2022 report (ISTAT, 2022) shows a consistent rise in the number of diagnosed pupils, with an average increase of 23% from the 2017/2018 school year to the 2021/2022 school year. Moreover, the distribution of diagnoses remains highly uneven, with vocational schools reporting a significantly higher percentage of students with SEN (17.5% of total enrollment) compared to classical and scientific high schools (5% of total enrollment).

Methodology and ethics

The research focuses on three schools on the outskirts of Rome (TI, VI, and VC). Situated in neighbourhoods distant from the centre and poorly served by public transport, these schools share certain characteristics, while displaying differences. In particular, technical education holds a distinctive status, considered ‘higher’ than strictly vocational education. However, despite its formal status, this institute has become one that is commonly ‘avoided’ in the neighbourhood, gradually developing a negative reputation. Additionally, the schools were selected through the analysis of Self-Assessment Reports (SAPs), which require schools to evaluate their performance through data on failures, dropouts, medical diagnoses, sanctions, and other indicators. Poorly performing schools often blame their students, yet SAPs reveal how market-based competitiveness has become embedded within public education (Dovemark et al., 2018; Gillborn and Youdell, 2000), reflecting the influence of neoliberal discourse in education (Foucault, 2004; Laval et al., 2012).

While, as said, these three institutions have some distinguishing features, this paper opts to analyze them collectively, as they all appear to be engaged in a similar process, albeit at different paces. Access to fieldwork was influenced by their position in the social hierarchy and the value placed on their students. Attempts to access predominantly middle-class high schools (Caroselli, 2022) were met with obstacles, limiting my ability to detach from the role of teacher or staff member. The research initially involved one class per school, consisting of students aged 16 to 20 (due to frequent cases of grade repetition). However, by living with them outside the classroom setting, it eventually extended to other young people, following their social groups and everyday life within the institution.

Unlike middle-class high school students, the school staff was not concerned about family reactions, and perceptions of student age were influenced by differing understandings of childhood and adulthood. Many students, engaged in manual labour due to personal or family circumstances, were not afforded the same protection typically given to youths of their age. This unequal right to childhood has historical roots in working-class and non-white experiences (Kergoat, 2022), presenting significant ethical challenges and prompting reflection on the power relations between the researcher and participants. While universal ethical protocols have become standard, they often obscure the epistemological concerns inherent in methodology, leading to a ritualization of ethical issues (Sin, 2005).

As Bourgois (2007) pointed out, informed consent cannot resolve the inherent ambivalence of participant observation, nor address the contradictions of sociological research. Although it is not the case here, it is worth noting that there is an important tradition of ethnographic essays where the boundaries between covered and uncovered practices are often blurred (Calvey, 2008; Goffman, 2022; Scheper-Hughes, 2004). Far from exonerating the researcher from reflecting on his position in the field, this ‘natural’ complexity of fieldwork stimulates a discussion on his commitment to a situated ethics.

For this purpose, I negotiated my position with the students, maintaining a clear distinction between our roles. Many lads had demanding jobs and familial responsibilities, and I felt it would be hypocritical to consider them incapable of deciding whether to participate. Everyone had the right to avoid their involvement, as demonstrated by the fact that I developed deeper relationships only with some of them. As proof of their acute awareness of the research situation, they often joked about my ability to come and go freely, underscoring the privilege of my job, structured around the absence of physical fatigue and what they perceived as ‘doing nothing’ for a salary. Moreover, as common for people not used to receiving attention, the lads often showed surprise at the idea that there could be something relevant in their lives ² .

While it is essential to clarify positions, sustained relationships cannot be rigidly regulated, and boundaries inevitably blur over time. Although the ethnographic research centred on classroom interactions, the students’ resistance to institutional demands and their efforts to adapt the school environment led me to spend time outside classrooms—in courtyards, laboratories, and bathrooms. As our relationships deepened, I went with them to pool halls, pubs, or simply hung out in city squares. Data collection involved casual ‘chats’ and discussions: I avoided using recording equipment during everyday interactions, as it would have interfered with the flow of conversation (Goffman, 1989) and positioned me too closely to the role of a social worker or policeman ³ .

Recording equipment was used only when students felt comfortable, and I asked for permission to start recording when important topics arose, framing it casually to ease transcription. This method was inspired by Philippe Bourgois’s work (1996; Bourgois and Schonberg, 2009), leading to transcripts of entire evenings spent interacting with other young people. I also conducted formal interviews. This variety of data collection methods highlights the unrealistic nature of unmediated fieldwork, where ‘facts speak for themselves’. Striving for total transparency conceals the researcher’s position and leads to mystification (Bourdieu, 1992). While I made my presence clear, I sought to keep my notes open, avoiding over-interpretation. This approach allows for alternative interpretations of the same material. While the research focused on the lived relationship between students and the school, I also had numerous interactions with teachers, mostly in the hallways and spaces that structure the underlife of the institution (Goffman, 1961; Nolan, 2018; Vienne, 2008). Thus, I constantly observed the school’s daily routines and the specific methods involved in its governance.

The collected data were subsequently re-examined and organized according to the themes that emerged within the context of everyday social interaction. The analysis drew primarily on conceptual tools from Bourdieusian sociology and the theoretical-methodological contributions of Paul Willis (2000; 2004). Despite their theoretical divergences - which cannot be explored in depth here—both frameworks offer valuable insights into the relationship between structural positioning within the social field, the socio-biographical trajectories of individuals, and the everyday cultural practices of groups and actors. Particular attention was paid to the ways in which the lads made sense of and responded to school discourse and to the institutional categories through which they were classified and assessed, taking into account not only explicit narratives, but also the fact that “embodied ‘sense’ is often not expressed in language; sometimes, more strongly, it is organized against, or in tension with, language” (Willis, 2000: xii). The notion of “embodied ‘sense’” highlights the unavoidable interpretive dimension inherent in all ethnographic research.

“It’s not like an high-school… we are a little bit retard*d”

All three schools are considered ‘last chance’ institutions for students who have failed in other educational settings, and serve a population with fragmented educational trajectories. Often, the youngsters attending these schools display a mixture of pride and indifference toward academic achievement (“I just want to get a crappy diploma”) and engage in behaviors that defy institutional expectations (e.g., leaving the classroom, spending time in the courtyard, playing cards). At the same time, it is important to analyze how these same students demonstrate a heightened sensitivity to the weight of educational assessments of their abilities. This sensitivity manifests primarily in two ways: the ease with which they express harsh cultural judgments about themselves and the conflicts that arise whenever teachers are particularly serious about evaluating, or inadvertently devaluing them.

The ease with which they make brutal judgments about themselves emerged multiple times during the fieldwork. Although rarely articulated in dramatic terms, these judgments often appeared as recognition of a given reality and, perhaps for that reason, were even harsher. It was a reiteration of a common sense understanding, a “reality in a nutshell,” as Geertz (1975: 7) defined it.

At first, two of them are gathered around the teacher by the blackboard: Francesco, who needs academic help, and Dario, who arrived that year after two failures in high school, and who displays his knowledge (so devalued in a high-school context, yet a rare and valuable asset here). After a while, the boredom and the sight of the relaxed atmosphere prompt Paolo to approach. Abandoning his usual defiant tone, he confesses loudly: “How do you do it... I just don’t understand anything.” Francesco expresses the same feeling, though in a completely different manner (aggressive), when he turns to Dario and says with a scowl, “Enough! We get it, you know how to do it, you’re just confusing us with all these damn parabolas!” But the most cutting words come towards the end of the hour, after I awkwardly point out how one might skip a step in the equation: “Yeah, I know, Andre’, but we need it, it’s not like high school, we’re a little bit retard*d, we don’t get some things...” All of this is said with no trace of reproach or annoyance, just as a simple observation. (Field notes)

In this excerpt, the lads are trying to catch up on some math lessons in preparation for their final examinations. What is particularly significant is the treatment of Dario. Dario has failed twice in a high school where he spent much of his schooling, and he is more familiar with this type of exercise. When he demonstrates his expertise (partly intending to help, partly to boast), he is seen as provoking the others. However, the words that Francesco shares with me are also very significant. The mistakes of a researcher can be very instructive: in this case, while trying to help, I showed him how he could skip certain steps in an equation. Francesco, calmly, pointed out that I was not considering that they were not like high-school students, but rather ‘a little bit retard*d.’

This same vulnerability can be observed in the ways many of the students feared and avoided moments of evaluation. More accurately, they feared the moments that could expose vulnerabilities they were trying to avoid. This process can be seen, for example, in the way Paolo alternated between fear and indifference in his interactions with me:

With the looming risk of failing, the resentment toward school, until that moment latent, begins to crack his attitude. In the courtyard conversations, which had until then focused on everything except his struggles with the teachers, Paolo begins to show signs of frustration. He fears failing even in this “shitty school.” Paolo explains to me: “You can’t do anything with a high school diploma anyway. My cousin did high school, and now she works at Wind [mobile company, a working-class job, ndr]. I mean, at the end, it’s the same.”

Paolo, in an attitude common to many of the lads, oscillates between rejecting any higher value attributed to the world of high school and the revelation of being in a ‘shitty school.' At the beginning of the conversation, he stresses how a technical or vocational diploma may nowadays be more useful in the job market (at least for those not pursuing a university path). Yet shortly after, he is stunned by Dario’s choice to attend this school. “What the hell are you doing in this shitty school?” appears to openly contradict what he had just said. This contradiction reveals a persistent perception of the devaluation he experiences within the educational system. In other words, although Paolo outwardly displays indifference, his ambivalence reveals the impossibility of fully ignoring the ‘cultural law' inscribed in the symbolic and social hierarchy of education (Bourdieu, 1993: 85).

Moreover, although at the end of the excerpt he reverts to a familiar countercultural code of meaning by ridiculing school exams and expectations, it is important to note the depth of his frustration and anger about the risk of failing even in this ‘shitty school.’ It is therefore not surprising that the most intense conflicts emerged when he perceived the exam moment as yet another judgment on his cultural worth, a sort of ‘degradation ceremony’ (Garfinkel, 1956). After failing another exam, Paolo threatened the teacher, finally being suspended and quitting school. Similar dynamics were found in the other schools as well.

For instance, Giorgio, whose father works as a concierge and whose mother is a housewife, is known for his ability to disappear within the school hallways. This tactic, which can be understood as a form of resistance to school authority (De Certeau, 1990), sees him frequently evade the classroom, forcing teachers to keep a constant watch over him. For the teachers, his lack of rights to a ST is caused by family negligence, as his mother did not fulfil the required procedures. Furthermore, he is described as ‘unfriendly’ and ‘snooty’: “He’s a bit rude because he first asks for help, then while you’re helping him, he says, ‘Ah yes, yes, I know it…’, but well, if you know, you wouldn’t be asking for my help! He’s arrogant…” (Field notes). However, during my fieldwork, this apparent arrogance looked as a dialectical response to the feeling of being undervalued.

During Mechanic lesson, Giorgio approaches me to ask for help with some exercises.

As in other situations, Giorgio displays a conflicting attitude, torn between his need for help and his desire to experience the feeling of understanding and grasping the topic on his own. Thus, once again, it becomes evident that fear, coupled with the feeling of being judged as ‘stup*d,’ pervades and predetermines many of the exchanges. Giorgio overreacted by presenting himself as the ‘master of his situation,’ deciding whether or not to succeed or fail. After all, this attitude strongly conflicted with the confusion and insecurity he displayed to me outside of the confrontations induced by the school’s system:

Me: “Why did you choose mechanics?”

It would be at least futile to ask what the ‘true’ Giorgio was, as different social situations lead to different representations of the self (Goffman, 1959). However, it is clear that the lads keenly felt the weight of academic judgment (Reay, 1999), reflected in their view of ‘shitty schools’ (Figure 1). Faced with this, teachers’ only option was to allow a ‘deviant compromise’ (Becker, 1963; Dubet, 1998) allowing to fill the boredom and voids of the perceived futility of these schools. These students transformed their environment, resisting institutional norms and creating a collective countercultural space. Such behaviors, seen as resistance, also offered protection from academic judgment. Their efforts to form a popular quant à soi (Ludtke, 1996; Mauger, 2013), a space of ‘mental and behavioural autonomy’ (Verret, 1995: 132, my transl.) sheltered from cultural judgment often clashed with dominant medical and deficit discourses. As Skeggs (2004) notes, moral evaluations of cultural practices shape power dynamics, and the devaluation of these youngsters behaviors overlooks their gendered, classed, and racialized context. While lacking exchange value, these actions are attempts to preserve self-esteem in a vulnerable environment, misrecognized by pathological discourses such as those in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM).OPEN IN VIEWER

‘Troubled’ Lads

In one of the first sociological studies dedicated to the genealogy of adhd diagnoses among American children and adolescents, Conrad (2016) illustrated that the societal construction of the disorder arose primarily at the urging of the school institution. Reasons given by the school revolved around issues more often related to student management and control than to learning performance. These matters emphasized the role of the school as an institution of social control, which was directly involved in the creation of deviance and its subsequent medicalization.

When behavior is initially identified as deviance in school, the identification is generally made because of management or control difficulties. This is most often in terms of disruptiveness (e.g., activity) but it can also be in terms of performance (e.g., learning ability) (Conrad, 2016: 67).

The importance of the educational institution in reporting alleged disorders to families is also apparent during the ethnographic fieldwork. It was possible to observe how a pervasive pathological discourse extended beyond the actual diagnoses, shaping the interpretive framework of teachers (Becker, 1952; Rafalovich, 2004, 2005). This discourse not only shaped how teachers viewed the students, but also reinforced a broader judgment about the students’ abilities and potential, effectively rendering a judgment on their entire sense of self. The next excerpt describes a conversation with a teacher and one of the STs.

The ST has to follow Mauro and Andrea who have ‘cognitive delays,’ while there are four other students with SLDs and Flavio who suffers from hyperactivity. They all have medical certificates, but while two of them have a diagnosis that entitles them to the support, the others do not - they just need to be followed more carefully. I ask the ST some questions about the feeling that they don’t look any more hyperactive than the other guys in the school. ST tells me that if I look at the symptoms, they really do have them all and that they are ‘certified.’ Most parents don’t realize it until they take them to school, because that’s where you can see that they have deficits. Therefore, it is the school that writes a report and invites them to go to the local health board, which makes the diagnosis. “If you read the DSM, the symptoms are just the same.”

The excerpt highlights in a direct way one of those forms of ‘epistemic violence’ (Spivak, 1988) that shapes the spaces of ethnography. The attribution of psychological disorders slides along, becoming one of the interpretive tools used to regulate and make sense of the disorder arising from the unruliness of behavior. Moreover, the medical gaze is intertwined with other perspectives, not least the colonial one. The ease with which the teacher associates the ‘half-nigg*r’ boy with ‘some cognitive delay’ is no exception, nor is the racist slur. The reference is to an Egyptian youngster, whose difficulties with the Italian language are compounded by a sense of alienation due to multiple acts of everyday racism, isolation, and exclusion. While his being targeted by the peers may also be linked to his embodiment of a form of ‘subaltern masculinity’ (Connell, Messerschmidt, 2005), the teacher’s words prompt us to reflect, once again, on the ways in which pathological discourse can contribute to rendering invisible (and reinforcing) more complex societal processes of exclusion:

After chatting a bit with everyone, we enter the classroom. Some of the lads continue to smoke a joint, as usual, an act that marks the rhythm of the morning. Inside, I sit next to Nasser, the only one sitting alone, off to the side, as he always does. (…) He is also the only one to have brought a backpack and some school supplies. Everyone else ‘borrows’ from him, mocking him with racial slurs and calling him ‘sl*w.’ He answers back while the teacher is uninterested, on his phone, claiming to be tired, with a headache, because he woke up at 6 a.m. to help his son with his homework. In this atmosphere of general ‘doing nothing,’ I talk with Nasser. Meanwhile, the other lads throw glances and gestures, pointing him out as ‘disturb*d.’ (Field notes)

The scene described effectively illustrates the extent to which Nasser is subject to significant environmental pressure—an influence on both his school behavior and his broader subjectivity that cannot be underestimated. Within this context, suggesting that the boy may suffer from an undiagnosed, ‘hidden’ disorder serves, on the one hand, to absolve the school institution of responsibility, and on the other, to initiate a process of labelling. Resonating with certain stereotypes embedded in common sense, pathological discourses were thus frequently employed to make sense of and explain the ‘academic failures’ of many foreign-born students. To cite another example, talking about a Chinese boy, the ST says, “That other boy, the Chinese one, I wonder how he got through middle school without saying a word. In my opinion, he either has cognitive retard*tion or he is just acting” (Field notes).

Violence permeates the interactions, which also manifests itself in the way the DSM is used as a point of reference for understanding the behaviours of young people. While not making totalizing or conclusive assumptions, the ‘conflicting’ behaviours and social heterogeneity expressed in these spaces are now also filtered through this tool, demonstrating the capacity of psychiatric knowledge to truly pose as an effective ‘public language’ (Cohen, 2016). The authority of psychiatry is intertwined with school norms and invoked as evidence for dealing with a mass of abnormal and ill people (Foucault, 1999). Setting aside the question of the accuracy of these diagnoses, such arguments illustrate how social and pathological explanations often converge. This entanglement is also evident in references to the concept of the “social dump” and the phenomenon of the “disappeared”. The commonly used term “disappeared” refers to pupils perceived by school staff as potentially diagnosable, yet formally excluded from SEN services, due to what teachers interpret as family laxity. Thus, the overlap between social and medical reasoning can serve to rationalize, and perhaps even legitimize, certain effects of social inequality. Is the school a “social dump” because of the spreading of behavioural pathologies, or does this spreading proceed because it is considered a “social dump”?

Many STs often complain that although their role is dedicated to an individual student, they eventually find themselves having to provide support to the entire class. In their opinion, the diagnosed student turns out to be less ‘problematic’ than many others. This kind of remarks effectively shows how some of the indicators of an alleged pathological disorder may relate to certain collective traits within these schools. Obviously, the pathological discourse developed by teachers never presents itself in its ideal-typical state, but its logic is constantly intertwined with other discourses (apathy, lack of education, generational issues). For example, talking about one of the students, a teacher says, “I don’t understand whether he behaves like this just because he smokes six thousand joints or if he is really just like this.” Either way, the pathological element actively contributes to discursively create lads’ figures as intrinsically impossible students (Youdell, 2003, 2006).

As we shift from a broader contextual understanding of students’ abilities to their personal interpretation and assimilation of these definitions, we can observe how these reinforce the dynamics of symbolic violence (Bourdieu, 1997) already identified, as well as how youngsters attempt to create liveable and satisfying definitions of self. A basic ambivalence toward the diagnostic tool is prevalent: it serves as an objective source of assistance concerning school obligations while simultaneously functioning as a verdict on one’s social existence. The following ample excerpt presents a long conversation with one of the students diagnosed with LSDs. His depth of reflection, which evidently accompanies the kind of relationship we established, clearly shows the various subjective impasses generated by the medical diagnosis.

Luca has a diagnosis of Specific Learning Disorder (SLD) and he feels that many teachers do not take this into account and do not allow him to benefit from the accommodations that would be granted by law. “I should be able to carry conceptual diagrams with me, I should have a whole range of aids … it seems to me that nobody cares.” I ask him about the diagnosis because I was not aware of it (evidently partly from shame, partly from secrecy, he had kept it from me) and, as is often the case, it did not seem to me that he had more difficulties than the average student attending the school. Here his tone changes a bit, loosened by the alcohol we drank together in the sunshine. He sits down next to me, his tone strangely calm.

Luca’s social biography is marked by profound social and economic suffering. He has virtually always lived in squatted housing, with his current living situation being particularly precarious: “Before, we actually had a proper house, you know… now it’s in an office building, it’s different”. Coming from a single-parent family where his mother, a Brazilian woman, is able to sustain herself intermittently through Portuguese lessons, Luca works every afternoon in a bar to secure his own material support. In this context, where his relationship with school has always been characterized by conflict, the stigma of a diagnosis emerges as a structuring element of his identity (Goffman, 1963). His personal interpretation of the medical diagnosis becomes the conviction that ‘it’s a paper that says I am stup*d.’ In this way, the diagnosis serves to reinforce and symbolically re-affirm the educational judgment that was already embedded in his conflicted relationship with the educational system. This aligns with the underlying emotions discussed in the previous section, translating the lived cultural experiences of the lads into a perceived natural and personal disorder. Thus, the medical diagnosis can become both a profound stigma and a deep wound.

We go to the labs, but in general the youngsters do what they want, walk around, go out, take over the space completely and freely. Among them, Nicolai takes the lead.

The excerpt describes how Vladimir’s bare cry, which erupted when the pressure became too much, is exorcised through the forms of collective culture, represented in this case by Amir (but also by the mechanics teacher) who reacts by reasserting a space of autonomy from institutional judgment. Self-assertion here occurs through the exhibition of a rejection of institutional categories. While it is within this space that multiple socio-existential dilemmas are formulated and defined, it is important to note how the judgment of cultural illegitimacy, at least within these school environments, is increasingly shaped by a pathologizing perspective and a complex web of discourses that go beyond mere academic ‘success’ or ‘failure.’ As demonstrated, students are fully aware of this.