Although there has been a 7.7 per cent drop in the number of permanent exclusions from secondary schools to 7,520, the number of short-term suspensions rose by more than four per cent, to 363,270 cases.

Children's Minister Kevin Brennan argues that it is "simply not true" to say that behaviour in schools is poor or deteriorating on the strength of these new figures. His defence is that teachers are intervening earlier to root out trouble.

The majority of fixed-period exclusions, at almost 90 per cent, lasted for one week or less. A majority of youngsters were banned from school on only one occasion.

At face value, it looks like discipline standards are improving because only a small proportion of excluded pupils become repeat offenders. Yet there are disturbing trends behind the headline figures which should worry all parents.

Whatever Kevin Brennan says, the fact that there has been a rise in exclusions is troubling. If his policy was working, it would be proven by a drop in all exclusions – permanent and temporary.

I have no scientific proof, just a parent's instinct, but I'm wondering whether staff are now more inclined to hand out temporary exclusions when previously they might have gone straight for a permanent ban? It looks better on the school's record, as it provides tangible evidence of assertive early action from teachers.

The highest rate of exclusions is at the new academies, state-maintained schools set up with the financial support of outside sponsors, and often in areas where attainment and attendance have been traditionally poor.

Christine Blower, acting general secretary of the National Union of Teachers, accuses the Government of "encouraging" academies to exclude disruptive pupils in order to develop a good academic reputation for this New Labour project that was so favoured by Tony Blair.

The other side of the argument, of course, is that a prolific exclusion rate proves that a new school is getting tough to get results – a draw for potential parents and sponsors alike. Children as political pawns? Never.

Boys are nearly four times more likely to be permanently excluded from school than girls, and three times more likely to face temporary exclusion. Any mother of boys – and I am one – will tell you that boys and school can be a volatile mix.

All too often, a certain type of boy, boisterous and immature, will be demonised from the start. You can see it happening in the playground, pick out the noisy kids just a few short steps away from some kind of exclusion.

One mother I know was in tears recently. Her five-year-old son, the youngest in his year, had been put on report. He barely understood what he had to do with this report, let alone understand why it had happened to him.

I could see the fear in her eyes, that he was going to be removed from school, and she would be ashamed and he would be pigeonholed as a bad lad before he could even read and write. More than 3,000 pupils aged four and five were temporarily excluded last year. So much for our "inclusive society".

I appreciate that exclusion is almost always used as a last resort, but a better understanding of boys – and more one-to-one classroom support – would surely be less destructive options for families.

But what happens to the children who are excluded? A tiny proportion end up in residential schools, where intensive tutoring and lots of TLC can help them progress and improve their behaviour and educational prospects.

However, "alternative provision", as education out of school is called, is often inadequate. So much so that Ed Balls, Secretary of State for Children, Schools and Families, has launched a White Paper to overhaul the system.

If you want to know what's happening to many of those thousands of ostracised kids, take a wander around a town centre one afternoon. You might find them hanging around a take-away, or drinking cheap lager on a bench.

Bad enough. But perhaps the most invidious concern of all is one that can't be analysed through facts and figures alone. In certain communities, riven with deprivation and poisoned by lack of aspiration, a school exclusion order is a badge of honour, to be put up on the mantelpiece with the Asbo and the £200 bribe – sorry, cheque – from Gordon Brown to take the baby to the clinic for its jabs.

Before they become too tangled up in their own statistics, Ministers must address this catastrophic breakdown of social mobility: it is exclusion in the worst sense, and until it is tackled, schools are fighting a battle with their hands tied.