Behind the counter at the off-licence there was a new face. Not strange in itself, but he looked younger than usual. We negotiated a difficult purchase: a bottle of beer with little alcohol for a friend of mine who is teetering on the edge of teetotalism.

Having established a mutual confidence, he related how he had been excluded from his school when it became clear he was not going to achieve high grades in his A-levels. "They didn't want me to spoil their league tables," he added, without signs of bitterness.

But it provoked me into asking those more directly involved whether this experience was common practice. While the results were inconclusive, they provided a clearer perception of an even more serious trend.

It is not original - as it centres on how schools deal with one of this country's most serious social problems. Namely, what to do with pupils who seem intent on not only blocking attempts to teach them, but damaging the education of others.

From here it takes little imagination to realise that if these "troublemakers" are allowed to continue, the reputation of those schools will suffer. And, conversely, if they are excluded, the school's reputation and position in the league tables will benefit.

In spite of this, some of the state schools in my area of London, Camden, can justly boast of their record in dealing with these youngsters rather than chucking them out for someone else to deal with.

Ministers have not only identified the scale and seriousness of this problem, but also have been relentlessly spewing out mechanisms to tackle it. In fact, the wealth of initiatives involving inclusion this and exclusion that - Yips, Yots, Yops, Building Bridges, Making Links - makes my head spin.

Some seemed to have had limited success in certain communities; some have suddenly found their funding stopped; others are a waste of taxpayers' money; and most have kept an amazing number of people in employment of sorts. But I defy anyone to claim that this hyperactive assault of acronyms and clich's has provided any lasting solutions.

One disturbing idea - backed recently by London mayor Ken Livingstone - is to offer financial incentives to black teachers to teach black pupils.

Not only do I find the concept of matching "colours" in our schools offensive, but having fallen foul of South Africa's apartheid laws many years ago, I would be horrified to see another form of apartheid introduced into British schools.

Education minister Ivan Lewis, in a Commons debate on school attendance and behaviour earlier this year, said that almost half of the young people in custody had been permanently excluded from school and that about 50,000 pupils are missing school without permission every day.

Amid a lot of tut-tutting and platitudes such as "we must never forget that the pupils of today are the parents of tomorrow" - which may account for the limited size of his audience - he scattered blame far and wide. And few things are more unattractive than politicians playing the blame game.

But there was no mention of why they had been excluded. Nor any mention of giving the percentage of exclusions a higher profile in the league tables. But that would involve no more than tinkering with the existing system.

Giving schools the resources and the freedom to deal with the problem seems an obvious first step. Others include keeping youngsters physically stretched and engaged and - apologies for using a clich' myself - catching them young.

There is nothing new in this. I recall John (now Lord) Patten, Conservative education secretary more than a decade ago, worrying that too many primary school children showed clear signs of becoming troublemakers - but being loath to be quoted saying so.

I am not convinced that today's young people differ that much from previous generations. There has been talk about "bad" parents for as long as I can remember. Nor do I believe - as Labour seems to - that the problem is confined to pupils from so-called deprived communities.

Perhaps policy makers, educationalists and criminologists should focus on a dilemma I have tracked ever since I suffered from it myself in my early teens. That is a feeling of being trapped in an environment offering little hope or inspiration while being bombarded with images of a world full of fantastic opportunities.

Sheila Gunn is a political commentator and a Conservative councillor in the London Borough of Camden.