Portland school looks stark and functional from the outside; the newly- planted dogwoods and saplings have yet to soften the lines of the two-storey brick building. Inside, one wide, clean corridor (“the street”) runs the length of the school, a glass-sided lift moves silently between the ground and first floors and there appear to be almost as many bathrooms as classrooms. But this special school in the north-eastern city of Sunderland is proud to be utilitarian; it has been designed and built, at a cost of pound;5 million, to meet the needs of secondary students with severe learning difficulties. Some also have complex medical conditions.

The emphasis on integration in recent years has left special schools - already the Cinderellas of education - further marginalised. But Portland shows how such schools might in future serve the needs of young people and foster mainstream expertise on special needs.

Whether it’s the lighting in the dolphin-patterned pool (underwater, to reduce the risk of triggering epileptic fits) or the protectively covered lower walls along the corridors (if rammed with a wheelchair, they will not dent), every detail has been considered for its practical application. Specially adapted science, design and technology, art and IT labs, and a college-style tertiary department occupy the upstairs corridors. Downstairs, all classrooms open on to paved and planted gardens with bird feeders and wind chimes.

“What a fantastic building this is. It must be as good as anything in the world,” said one early visitor. “I want to live here,” said another. The first was Tony Blair, opening the school five days before last Christmas; the second was a Portland pupil arriving at his new school for the first time.

Until autumn 2001, Portland was housed in Sixties accommodation in Sunderland city centre. Headteacher Jennifer Chart is blunt about its inadequacies. “There were no specialist facilities and we’d used all the available space. But our students also have an entitlement to age-appropriate facilities that allow optimum learning.” In 2000, Ofsted added its voice to those clamouring for Portland to be rehoused, remarking that although leadership and the school’s ethos were outstanding, “the accommodation remains inadequate”.

Sunderland committed itself after a two-year (1997-1999) review of special needs provision. It built the school without private finance or skimping on quality to cater for what here and nationally is a growing pupil population with severe learning difficulties. The school will expand from a current 117 pupils to 165 next September, as Years 7 and 8 join the existing 13 to 19-year-old intake.

Pupils moved in last September and are clearly reaping the benefit. In a spacious classroom, 10 pupils with profound and multiple learning difficulties lie on beanbags, stand in mobile frames or sit in wheelchairs. Three trained classroom assistants and teacher Edna Roberts provide a sensory curriculum, including work on computers - they have two with touch-screens - and with sound-activated devices. Staff-pupil relationships are intense and energetic. “You don’t have mega goals,” says Ms Roberts. “It’s small steps, but very rewarding.”

Previously, this class had to take the bus to the pool. Now, all pupils get their vital hydrotherapy at least once a week. Saul, who lies mainly immobile on a soft mat, can float with minimal assistance moving his legs. Fashion-conscious, sporty-looking Lisa, usually confined to a wheelchair, did 20 lengths raising funds for a hospice.

A tracking hoist allows students to be lifted into and out of wheelchairs and to the adjoining bathroom in dignity and comfort. Medical consulting rooms are available for visiting specialists. The sensory room, beneficial for the angry, the anxious and those with severe learning difficulties, is yards away at the end of the corridor. “They’re a brilliant class,” says Ms Roberts. “You look at them as individuals, you don’t see the medical things. But there used to be an awful lot of lifting.”

The educational emphasis across the school is on social skills and communication. “It’s important that the students make choices, even if it’s through pressing a switch or choosing a card,” says Valerie Beal, head of profound and multiple learning disabilities (PMLD). “We’re giving our students the tools they need to have as full a life as possible, whether that is being able to say yes or no to a cup of tea, or standing up for their rights as a young person with a disability.”

The tertiary department - sixth form - has been designed to promote independence. Parents risk falling into the “Peter Pan syndrome”, says Jennifer Chart. “It’s difficult for some to allow the child to have the self-advocacy skills the school tries to develop when they’ve had to speak for their children, protect them from other young people.”

Pupils John McArdle and Christopher Younger, both 17, are in the “social skills” room, which is equipped with a kitchen, telephone, video and television. “It’s more beautiful than any other school,” says John, enthusiastic in a Union Jack shirt. “It’s got a swimming pool. I love it here,” says Christopher. Both feature in the wall display of photographs from the school’s Valentine’s Day party.

In another room, teacher Stephen Murphy conducts a social skills lesson with four older pupils. Studying pictures of people with a range of facial expressions, they are completing the sentence “I cry when II ”. “Fall over,” says one pupil. “When someone pushes me,” says another. “When it’s PE,” jokes Karen. Mr Murphy’s good relationship with his class is evident. “He’s a horrible teacher, him,” says Karen.

Rosalind Little is at Portland today for a meeting on post-19 provision. Her 18-year-old son, Mark, has severe learning difficulties. “He loves coming to school. He’s ready and waiting for the taxi in the morning,” she says. “With the tertiary department being upstairs, he feels as though he’s grown up.”

Some Portland pupils - 5 per cent last year - move from here to nearby Felstead school, for those with moderate learning difficulties. Equally, there are some pupils whom Portland struggles to contain. Here, too, the building has made a difference. Grant Marland, a Portland teacher for a dozen years, works with three young men who are profoundly autistic. With no language and with unpredictable, challenging behaviour, these boys are difficult to contain in an ordinary SLD classroom. Here, they are in a classroom of their own, with one teacher and three assistants. “Mainstream within this school is too noisy and the demands of the curriculum too much. This has reduced stress on them,” says Mr Marland. The room is filled with the smell of hot sugar as they make marshmallow crispies - a wind-down activity for a tired afternoon.

But this morning they have been continuing with PECS (picture exchange communication system) work, whereby students match objects to cards or construct simple sentences using picture symbols. Gary, 13, has made huge strides with this since this high dependency unit was set up last November, and can now choose, pictorially, his lunch menu. The number of violent attacks on staff has fallen, although bent chair legs bear witness to the skill needed to manage these pupils.

Staff make every effort to broaden pupils’ experience. Two 13-year-olds, one from the secondary department and one from PMLD, went to Lourdes this Easter with a charity; others recently attended a black-tie dinner at a local hotel organised through a Young Enterprise scheme. The school won a Barclays New Futures award for its exchange programme with Holy Family school in Cootehill, County Cavan, Ireland.

From next year Portland staff will be providing Inset training for the local authority. A suite of rooms on the first floor - including conference room, meeting room, teachers’ resource room with internet access and the staffroom - will make high-quality training facilities. “The outreach side has to develop if the authority is promoting more inclusion,” says Jennifer Chart.

Local residents, initially apprehensive, appear to be coming round. Portland pupils were invited to a recent tree-planting in a nearby park, and the local newspaper donated to the school what it would have spent on Christmas cards. The beech-lined hall where students do keep-fit classes and eat lunch has been booked for a 300-guest christening. Bringing in people is a priority for Jennifer Chart. “Students here have the same crushes, the same hormones, the same problems as other teenagers. We’ve got to get the community to recognise that,” she says.

“We should judge the strength of a society on how we value each member of it.” It’s Tony Blair again, on the important ethos behind the investment in this school. “Society did lock our students away,” says Ms Chart. “I’ve fought long and hard for recognition that they should have equal opportunities.”

Some students’ names have been changed.Wendy Wallace is education feature writer of the year