But how can schools help pupils who miss out on a planned secondary transfer, children who may be coping simultaneously with traumas in their family lives and having to learn English fast? At Dormers Wells - where the 850-plus pupils speak 40 languages - staff have become expert at assimilating newcomers, many of them asylum-seekers.

At the heart of the school’s culture lies the induction course, held during the second period every day in the EMA (ethnic minority achievement) room. Here, at tables covered with batik-dyed cotton, children talk about themselves, their lessons, their worries. “It’s not an English class,” says Mrs Mann, who has been at the school for six years. “It’s to familiarise them with the ways of the school. It’s not uncommon for this to be their first experience of education. Some are bewildered and traumatised, and this is a place where they feel secure.”

Induction offers pupils a vital mix of mutual emotional support, school orientation and language skills. For today’s class - with pupils from Pakistan, India, Afghanistan and Denmark - Mrs Mann has asked the children to bring in something from their country. Using her map of the world as a prop, plus flags, pictures and folk music downloaded from Encarta, she encourages each child to stand up and say a few words. Pupils have brought currency and items of costume, temple bells and photo albums. One boy has a snapshot of himself in a garland of jasmine, taken to mark his first day at a Sri Lankan school that was later blown up. The affirming effects are clear; students smile as they struggle to express whom they miss and what grew in their gardens.

Sandra, newly arrived from Angola with virtually no English, is encouraged to teach the class to say “hello” and “thank you” in Portuguese. “I’m not worried about perfect English. What I’m interested in is that they should become comfortable about speaking,” says Mrs Mann. In the group, she gives double merits for library visits, shows pupils how to use the internet and reference books and gets the most nervous to hand out books or help with other classroom management tasks.

Pupils’ questions continue to surprise. What is a lesson, one wants to know. How do you know which lesson you are in, asks another. It is almost impossible for teachers to put themselves in the shoes of, for instance, Walid Abdulla from Somalia, who had never been to school when he joined at the age of 14. But listening to students helps. Dormers Wells’s research has revealed that foreign language lessons, for pupils new to English, can be bewildering; a pupil who had never done PE, when told to put on shorts and run round the field, thought it was an extra break time. Pupils express their appreciation, too; they like having a school uniform, teachers who don’t hit them, the extensive facilities, and pizza for lunch.

At Dormers Wells, they try to make it easy for newcomers. Mrs Mann has encouraged staff to label rooms by subject - not every teenager will understand that a picture of William Shakespeare signifies an English class, or a map a geography class. Objects are labelled too - computer, clock, globe. It offers practical help with language and is a useful reminder that students may be trying to compress nursery, primary and secondary education into a couple of GCSE years. All new pupils are assigned two “buddies” for the first fortnight, to help them find their way around school. Buddies get a certificate for their efforts, given in assembly. “It’s all about citizenship, isn’t it?” says Mrs Mann. Non-English speakers carry a card to pull out of their pockets in emergencies, giving their name and tutor group and bearing the message: “If I look lost, perhaps you can help me.”

Mrs Mann, who has a master’s degree in refugee education, currently has 11 pupils in the induction group (the maximum number is 14). Co-operation from other staff is vital to its success. “Staff here are brilliant, very pro-active about additional language learning,” she says. After their initial interview, Mrs Mann fills out a profile of new pupils, which covers their educational history, their proficiency in other languages and other information. She suggests strategies for teachers, and new pupils’ profiles are put on a board in the staffroom. Details of the traumas some have lived through are not spelled out in this public forum. “It may say, ‘has been through unpleasant experiences, please see me for further details’,” she says.

Year 11 pupil Nazreen Khan came to England from Afghanistan almost two years ago. Politically prominent, her family had to run for their lives and she and her mother became separated from her father and two-year-old brother en route. She has acquired English rapidly at Dormers Wells, and hopes to become a lawyer. Her air of calm maturity and the red prefect’s badge on her lapel give an impression that she will succeed in her ambition. “Teachers helped me a lot,” she says. “They offered help at lunchtime and break, whenever I needed it. I’m proud to have teachers like that.”

Two months ago, her father joined the family in Britain, bringing news of Nazreen’s brother: he’s safe in Belgium with an aunt.

INCREDIBLE JOURNEYS

Walid Abdulla (right), a Year 11 pupil at Dormers Wells, arrived in England from Somalia two years ago, aged 13. The agent paid to bring him here abandoned him on the streets of west London. “It was around 6pm but it was dark,” he says. “You can’t imagine what it’s like if you don’t know anyone, or where to go, or how to speak to people.” A shopkeeper gave him food; a Somali passer-by took him home for a week. Shortly before he got to England, Walid had seen the aunt and uncle who brought him up murdered by soldiers; they began stabbing him as well, but stopped when one said “he’s only a kid”.

Walid’s long journey - which in Britain has taken him through temporary homes and a mental hospital (he was found wandering the streets, his blood full of the drug khat) - finally brought him to Dormers Wells.

Walid had never been to school. He took the induction course and now lives in a small children’s home, run by Ealing social services. School has become his family. “This is my home,” he says, stretching his arms. “The teachers are my parents, my best friends, my everything.”

Sarah Alaf (above right), 15, fled Afghanistan with her mother and sister after the Taliban took away her father and grandfather. But, burned out of their house in Kent, they moved to London.

Living in London is much more to Sarah’s liking - “there are many people from many countries” - as is Dormers Wells. She had been to school in Kabul until it was closed down. From an educated family, she was taught at home, in secret, by her mother and aunt. She was glad to get back to education.

“When I started school here, it made me very happy,” she says. “My favourite lesson was induction. I had the chance to speak, and no one would embarrass me.”

On days when she found school difficult her mother said: “You have to study because your father’s dream was for you to speak English and become a doctor.”

“I started going to the library”, she says. “and my mum bought me a computer.”

Sarah spent the half-term break phoning solicitors and the Home Office; the family’s file has been lost and they have no travel documents. “We are going to look for my dad in Iran or Pakistan.”