I have found it interesting to read this thread and have felt some sympathy for both sides when it comes to the challenge of including children who are different in some way.
I don't want to go into the whole issue of linking having SEN with being sexually deviant, except to say it is clearly, clearly, wrong!
My DS has not been diagnosed with SEN. However, I've been told he comes across as quirky. In his time at primary school, he has been both the one who has had difficulties dealing with a child with SEN and the one who was excluded by the majority of his classmates for being different.
In the first case, in Y5, DS was told he must play with a new boy called X who had social and communication difficulties. DS really wanted to be friendly towards X and tried hard - but found the situation so challenging. X, through no fault of his own, was unable to cope when a game did not go his way. His emotions would ramp up quickly. He would sob and blame DS who would end up getting told off. DS felt powerless and uneasy - there is always an element of chance in children's play and you can't ensure that things won't go wrong at some point for someone. At the same time DS was told that he was being unkind if he said he didn't want to play with X. So he felt he had to play, feeling nervous the whole time that something would happen to displease X and DS would end up in trouble.
The tension built up and built up until one day DS came home and just burst into tears. 'I want X to be happy but I just can't deal with him,' he cried.
I had always encouraged DS to play with X, but with only criticism from adults for his efforts, and with the thought hanging over him that things could quickly destabilise and he'd be in trouble, DS really did find it nerve-wracking. He was so upset that I reluctantly told him it was okay to try to keep out of X's way. It's not what I would have said if there had been proper adult support to ensure fair play and a non-stressful environment for all.
But, in addition to the situation described, DS has also found himself on the other side of the fence.
In DS's primary school class, there were quite a few children with big, bold personalities. DS is on the gentle side and had neither the will nor skill to play the brash one-upmanship games that might have allowed him entry into the main group. He was quickly rejected by the others and never did integrate properly in all the years he was there.
So, I know what it's like to be the mother of an ostracised child.
While I ended up telling DS it was okay not to engage with X, I did so with a heavy heart, and knowing it wasn't an ideal solution. I believe in inclusion. Bearing in mind the pack instinct of children, a strategy of 'just play with your mates' would lead to DS, X, and many others who are different in some way having no one to play with at all. It's a real problem to get the balance right.
Looking at both unhappy cases described above, the unifying factor, it seems to me, is that the school did not provide the necessary resources and manpower to allow social exclusion to be identified and dealt with appropriately.
In the first case, DS wanted to be friendly toward the boy with SEN, but in the absence of structure and supervision, the task was too onerous.
In the second case, nobody seemed to notice or care that DS's classmates were habitually telling him to get lost.
In both cases, the school let children down. That is why I would like what happens in the playground to be taken much more seriously. At the moment, playground assistants, often untrained and badly paid, are frequently left in charge. There does not seem to be a 'handover' protocol - or if there is, it does not seem to be implemented - that would allow useful information/observations to be exchanged between teachers and playground assistants.
And yet, as parents, we know that what happens - or doesn't happen - in the playground can make or break a child's experience of school.
A policy of inclusion presents challenges - and brings rewards - for all concerned. But informed guidance is required.