Moments: A Rather Sad Realisation of Our Indoctrination in IB

It is around 8:30 am in the morning. Students enter the TOK room, anticipating another hour of ennui and philosophical BS. They see that neither their IB Coordinator nor their other TOK teacher is present in the room…some bounce in joy, some shriek in happiness.

20 minutes passes…

Desks have been rearranged into small circles…[Note that not even a substitute teacher is present in the room]…chatter is heard all around…

Imagine walking around the room. These are snippets of the chattering:

“This article demonstrates how the role of language is such that it can be used to reframe a problem…”

“However, the author’s point is limited because language is not simply a manifestation of human reasoning..”

“Hehe, Miss R is so HOT. I totally want to be HER integral so I can be the area under her curves…”

“But then, reasoning cannot exist independently of emotion!”

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Of Rickety Doors and Goopy Foods

You may be wondering what a typical IB school looks like. I might as well say it right from the outset but there is no such thing as a typical IB school. Rather than attempting to present to you a completely imaginary school I will attempt to describe my school.

Upon reaching the grounds of “Rellaw Academy” (in quotes because everything that is even remotely identifiable about me needs to be covered up somehow) one is struck by a rather inaccurate thought: ‘My,’ one would think, ‘what a quaint little school, what with its separate buildings, aged columns, and curious little children!’ Of course, the Academy is neither little, nor is it filled with “curious” little children (though certainly they are very very special children and the buildings themselves are incredibly old and perhaps in need of some desperate renovations what with their disintegrating walls, mice-filled rooms, metallic-tasting water from drinking fountains, stinky comfort rooms and–I digress).

Beyond those chipped brick walls with the peeling and possibly lead-filled jaundice yellow paint are future masters in the art of deception…for nothing is what it seems (especially when you pay half an American dollar a full American dollar for what you believe to be a chocolate chip cookie, only to bite into it and find that it is actually an oatmeal cookie with raisins, or when you are given what the school cafeteria worker says is “Salisbury steak” and then find yourself waking up in the hospital after eating the cafeteria meal).

When entering the bigger building of the school, the first of your five senses to be stimulated is not your sight (for the interior is as plain as Jane Eyre), nor your taste (please do not under any circumstances lick the lead-covered walls), but your smell. For you will find that in the halls of Rellaw there wafts a strange and indescribable scent; imagine if you will a mix of sweaty and overstimulated teenagers, overly perfumed staff members, burning cafeteria food, and quite possibly marijuana. Always this scent streams through the air and follows you around like the plague. After a few years in this environment you will notice the smell about as much as George Orwell takes note of “brown” people in “Marrakech”, which is to say that in general you will reach a point where you will no longer notice the rank of poverty [of Rellaw] (though certainly you will take note of it occasionally).

To your left and right there are a multitude of stairs. This is perhaps the most confusing part of the bigger building, the reason being that your arrival at a desired destination is entirely dependent upon the staircases you choose to climb. You see, this bigger building is actually an amalgamation of two different buildings. Instead of dealing with a third building, the designers decided upon simply meshing together the two different fragments. An exploration of the staircases to the right would indicate clearly that the second level of one part of the building doesn’t quite align with the other part. Don’t think that just because you are on the second level of the one part of the building already that you will end up in the third level of the other part of the building; certainly not. Though they remain immobile throughout the year, the staircases might as well be moving like they do in Hogwarts.

Occasionally the halls are adorned with fantastic artwork from Rellaw students. When they are not adorned with the works of extremely talented people, the cracks in the walls are made more conspicuous. Suffice to say, these works of art should be displayed in a gallery, not an aging school wherein mice are as prevalent as the common cold in the middle of winter and cracks in the walls glare at you like they do the narrator of Gilman’s “The Yellow Wallpaper”.

As for the library, it is hazardous to enter and will probably cause you cancer because its walls are asbestos-filled. So as to discourage you from visiting that area, I will continue this description later.

Anyone who goes to Rellaw will know that I am describing their school. And who am I? I will let you to speculate on that point.

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Class-ified Information…

As sent by a special source from a parallel world in which IB is more exciting than it is in MY world.

Coming soon to a computer screen near you…

…a series…

..tales of deception, duplicity, and subversion…and secrets at every turn…

Just don’t get lost in the wilderness of mirrors…

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Yes, we do appreciate your hard work and dedication

Everyone who knows me and is not a secondary school teacher is well aware that I have a soft spot in my heart reserved for the educators in my life. Though I complain an awful lot about the IB and everything that relates to it, and though I’m not exactly quick to show signs of adulation towards teachers, I do hold a lot of respect and to some extent even admiration for them. Just don’t run off and tell them I wrote that. I think it will be the death of me somehow (I can already feel some of my fellow IBers poised to throw harmful projectiles at me).

Expect sappiness to follow.

I know, I know…you are probably thinking, “Oh dear, have they finally brainwashed her? Has she gone mad? Does she need to see a doctor? Has she been fully programmed?”

No, I remain critical of some aspects of IB. That is entirely besides the point. My main intention for this post is to express my appreciation for teachers, especially those who I felt have made a significant impact on my learning and ultimately, my choices in this life.

You see, most of my IB teachers did not at the outset of their post-university careers decide to become teachers. They instead pursued other fields, in engineering, diplomacy, law, healthcare, scientific research, etc. They spent some time in these fields, some becoming very successful in their careers. Then at some point, they realise, perhaps through the difficulties of their work or through some other epiphany, that their current career was not the most satisfying–something, in other words, was missing. They then turned to teaching, and in working in education found that they had reached a post in life wherein they were both challenged and satisfied.

As for those who from the outset wanted to be educators, they, too found something equally challenging and satisfying and remained in the education field.

So I attempt here to speak for some of my peers who may not show their appreciation for teachers (or really want to do so) in the hope that they continue to strive for excellence in their students. After all, it is not only the students who require some source of stimulation in learning; from what I’ve seen these past four years, teaching can be as much a challenge of motivation for teachers as learning can be (and has been) for the students. They have all been so remarkably patient with our misgivings as students/learners.

Having said that, I am far from a teacher’s pet. I am sure many of my teachers disapprove of some of the things I do (frequently late homework, if they’re even complete to begin with, questioning them to the point of annoyance, not always paying attention because I am such a spaz, just not living up to my potential in general which is really my own fault, etc.).

It is so difficult to work through the means of something, and to not see the ends until (perhaps) years after your role in a student’s life has ended. It is difficult to overcome minor rigours and rise above them in such a way so as to keep oneself constantly motivated to guide otherwise (and admittedly, coming from me) immature/whiny/sometimes lazy (read: growing) students.

With that said, if you are a teacher, IB or not, I hope you have not lost all faith in us students. We may turn away and stomp our feet in disagreement at your words, but deep in our hearts we do hold respect for you and what you try to accomplish for us.

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An Opportunity to Vilify/Extol IB

*maniacal laughter ensues*

Guess who volunteered to tell naive middle schoolers about their fate in IB for an Open House sort of thing?

*maniacal laughter continues*

Now I shall spread the word of the maleficent relationship that exists between an IB Student and the IB! Ahahahaha. Haha. Ha.

Such an advantageous moment in time for me to warn these poor souls of the peril that awaits them!

…I haven’t gone mad. I swear that I am completely sane right now. As always.

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An excerpt

The following is an excerpt from my upcoming memoir (tentative title: Of Sleepless Nights
and Barrels of Coffee: the harrowing experiences of an IB Diploma Candidate) about my life as an IB Student.

Before my eyes I confronted a vast blankness in which I envisaged my future to lie: it was empty and barren, completely white; in its whiteness, one which signified the absence, not the presence, of purity, there lay the shadows of my thoughts which had been rendered asunder by the ticking of clocks. The ticking, though rhythmic, were not at all consoling to my sensibilities and seemed to be quickening, my own pulse rate increasing as their sounds grew more voluminous. Vexed as I was by the rigours that were in store for me, I slunk into my chair and fell into a trance, one of absolute despair.

I sat in complete silence before the empty Word document that otherwise only bore the words “COMMENTARY” and my own name, the walls of my prison seeming to encompass me further and further as time haunted my thoughts. I endeavoured no escape since it seemed a futile attempt at freedom from a prison with walls most intangible. “Significance! Theme! CONFINEMENT!”, shrieked my mind thence amidst the clamour of the external tempest. The tempest outside awakened the storm within; the wind howled, and with it howled my soul; the clouds threw their tears at the window pane, and with them, my own rain fell from my already dampened eyes.

Oh yes, I am so pathetic. My melodramatics are attempts to become the Jane Eyre of IB.

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Why am I up at 2:58?

Because I am an IB Student and as such am conditioned to admittedly abnormal sleep cycles.

I have just finished all my university supplements. Very exciting stuff, really. There is nothing more enjoyable than exploiting one’s IB experiences to convey the sense that one has become an intellectual through IB. Nothing could be further from the truth. I like to think that I was an intellectual even before IB came into my life (which is to say that I was an intellectual at 13, which in turn is to suggest that I am in denial of my naivete and generally ignorance at that age). I’m such a snob. :P

So the question some may be asking is “Will IB really prepare me for University life?”

I cannot answer that just yet as I must graduate from IB first before I will experience post-IB life. But of all the people who I’ve spoken to who were IB grads, they do not deny that their IB experiences helped them (ultimately) when they became university students. I suppose our experiences as IBers varies depending on our individual temperaments and the way our schools have interpreted the programme, but generally it seems that IB grads do not regret having gone through the IB. There is even a medical student who graduated from IB who claims IB prepared him for the rigours of medical school (which everyone who is familiar with medical training will know to be as depriving of sleep as IB).

I’ll find a way to question that viewpoint later on, but I can’t really make my assessment on the subject until I experience university life myself.

I envision my life after IB to be either 1) a fast-track to therapy, 2) a risk increaser for heart problems, 3) awesome/successful/whatever, or 4) some middle ground situation which I cannot imagine right now (which would probably be a combination of 1 and 3).

I do joke about therapy a lot (not to offend anyone who happens to be in therapy, of course), but in actuality my experiences in this programme have somehow made me more emotionally resilient. OR perhaps I really am in denial.

Well, we shall see.

In other news, I have observed something about most of the IBers I’m surrounded by…

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Dear 2009,

It seems you are here! Welcome :) .

It’s hit me that the final leg of the IB Journey is here. It’s hit me also that I’ve been in this programme for 6 years (read: for much too long). Goodness gracious me.

I’m almost there…! I am so psyched up for it all. Can you believe it? My final year of IB and AP testing! (Though really, there are more tests to come, especially in the field I’m entering).

Technically, I’ve already been accepted to university. I’m just now waiting for the regular decision unis to get back to me around Feb. or March. IB Student this fall will be University Student/Undergrad Scum. So there will be a new blog by then… :D

So what has IB Student accomplished this last year, which was but 30 minutes ago?

  1. Turned in their freaking Extended Essay.
  2. Finished their Creative and Service hours (I really need to get my Action hours in).
  3. Received their first acceptance letter(s).

There’s more, of course.

To everyone, have a HAPPY NEW YEAR! :)

Don’t procrastinate too much, those of you on holiday; and don’t drink (excessively). ;)

-IB Student

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:(

It’s going to be a sad, sad day on Graduation Day. :’( I am going to miss everyone I’ve met in IB and everyone I have made friends with.

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What the hell is TOK?

I thought I might post something that might actually be useful for some people.

I remember when I first heard the word “Theory of Knowledge” as a Pre-IB1 student.

TOK stands for “Theory of Knowledge” and is an IB course consisting of epistemological discourse which centres on the nature of inquiry in different branches of knowledge. At least, that is the fancy way to describe it. Strip that definition of its hifalutin language, replace it with (what I hope to be terms that are easier to understand) and you will be met with the following breakdown:

The Nature of Inquiry in “Theory of Knowledge”

  • Why people become professionals of a branch of knowledge like Natural Science, Social Science, etc.
  • What people study (e.g. Quantum Mechanics)
  • How things are studied (e.g. the scientific method, historical method, etc.)
  • How “progress” is made (e.g. vitalism in biology to evolution)
  • What assumptions are made in different fields, which are subdivisions of branches of knowledge, and how these assumptions relate to the branch of knowledge as a whole
  • How the above relate to the acquisition of knowledge (which itself is studied)

Assignments in Theory of Knowledge

My assignments consist mainly of reading assigned texts and writing notes from these texts. This is intended to expose us to the course material and to act as padding for our grades as well.

Then there are the multiple TOK papers we are expected to write as a form of practise for the May exams. If you think history and literature papers are vague, wait till you get to TOK papers. There are really no guidelines set as to how to write a TOK paper, which is actually quite an opportunity for some of us to show off our writing skills, but it can also be problematic because we really have no idea what to expect. Where areas in the literature or history course you are first exposed to models of essay-writing that have a more or less clear-cut structure (Topic Sentence, Evidence, Analysis in each paragraph), in TOK that is not necessarily the case. In fact, I’m still not completely sure how I am supposed to approach a TOK paper.

Theory of Knowledge Tests

In TOK, at least in the manner in which it is taught at IB Student’s School, there are no multiple choice questions on our tests. We normally have two parts to our tests: 1) Tests you on how much you’ve memorised information from texts, 2) Explanations of what the authors of the texts mean by *insert quote from TOK author here*. Now, this may not seem very difficult at first glance, but when you are exposed to a multitude of information, it is difficult to remember everything they ask you on a TOK test.

Some time from now, I am sure we will be expected to crank out an entire TOK-style essay within a pre-determined time limit.

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