To IB or Not To IB… That is the Question (The Tale of Two Pities)

There is something about the pending school season that puts things into perspective. So, in the spirit of positivity, joy, and community, I want to offer a few insights to any of the founders, directors, investors, or principals who lead (or plan on leading) an IB school. I will point out something that I’m often paid a lot of money to emphasize in person. It may seem laughable once I pinpoint it, given it's inherent obviousness, but that will not make it any less poignant. After all, there are lots of laughable-yet-obvious observations that have stood out over years. Education can be chock full o’ nonsense. Anyone deep within this field knows that firsthand.

At its core, this article will offer nothing but common sense; however, as many of us realize in life, common sense is not always so common. Many of the institutions I’ve worked with over the past decade identify themselves as IB schools. It’s easy to see why the IB is a popular choice for school founders: it’s one of the most revered within education and it attracts parents with disposable income who value their children’s education. No one likes to think about education as a profit-making engine, but at the end of the day, if parents can brag about it, schools can charge for it.

Unfortunately, there are plenty of schools charging for a product they don’t adequately deliver… and often, parents aren’t well-versed enough in the nuances of education to notice.

Context is King

The International Baccalaureate program is highly respected partially because it’s been around for decades, which isn’t an easy accomplishment given how temperamental education has become. If the entire institution of education were to be personified, it would have to take the form of a discontent octogenarian who can’t decide on which type of cheese to put on their sandwich because there is “something wrong” with all of them. As a result, lots of academic programs and philosophies have come and gone over the years, some re-emerging later with new packaging and different lingo. But the IB program happens to be one that has lingered since its inception. It has persevered, despite the fickle fingers of the Educational Industrial Complex... which is, for sure, "a thing". Its longevity can be attributed to many factors, not the least of which is a combination of exclusivity, premiumization, and brand recognition.

Education can be chock full o’ nonsense. Anyone deep within this field knows that firsthand.

The IB has carved itself an internationally recognized foothold. Unlike other valued programs, such as the College Board’s Advanced Placement (AP) qualification- which is perceived as the American ideal, or Cambridge’s GCSE qualification- which is perceived as the British ideal, the IB remains relatively neutral in its perception, appropriate given that its beginnings trace back to Switzerland. It doesn’t prepare students to study in any particular country; rather it theoretically prepares students to excel in any country.

What a beautiful idea. It makes you want to buy the world a Coke and sing in perfect harmony.

The IB is rich with that sort of inspiring, border-defying rhetoric. It aims to mold students into global citizens, fosters social responsibility, and emphasizes nurturing students as empowered individuals rather than mere academic performers. These are all very lofty objectives, for sure. To the IB's credit, although its philosophy may seem a bit idealistic, shouldn’t idealism be exactly what our education systems champion? Regardless, for better or worse, the IB provides an opportunity to develop students beyond traditional academics. However, many schools face significant challenges in executing the IB curriculum effectively. The complexity of the IB’s multi-faceted program often leaves schools struggling to implement it cohesively. Simply put, the IB envisions its schools in a way that many school leaders find difficult to fully actualize.

Anatomy of a Problem

Why the struggle? For one, the IB consists of three distinct core programs—the PYP, MYP, and DP (or CP, if you're 'open-minded')—which are intended to form a seamless, cohesive educational continuum. However, much like the Ninja Turtle toys from my youth, they are essentially sold separately. Schools adopt the programs that best fit their target audience, but since these three are, in practice, independent products, they often don’t integrate as smoothly as one might expect.

The DP program culminates with concrete, exam-based results and a widely sought-after diploma. The MYP and PYP are different. They are frameworks, which by definition are more 'flexible'. Thus, schools that try to implement the entirety of the IB often struggle to adequately bridge them together. This has led to some criticism of the IB, with some even arguing that the MYP doesn’t fully prepare students for the demands of the DP/CP. Imagine attending a school where people believe what you learn in 9th and 10th grade is not preparing you for 11th and 12th. This perception likely costs the IB a significant amount of money, as it has led many schools to adopt alternative programs for their lower grades. It’s not uncommon to see schools implement a structured curriculum like the IGCSE for middle school, followed by the IB-DP for grades 11–12. Why? Because programs like the IGCSE are specific and focused. While they don’t aim to cultivate the well-rounded student that the IB strives for, they offer something school leaders value: a clear, measurable target.

The second reason why schools struggle to effectively implement parts of the IB program lies in its demanding requirements. Crafting a standard lesson plan is already challenging for many teachers; the added complexity of incorporating IB-specific expectations can feel overwhelming. The IB requires educators to go beyond typical lesson planning, including placing content within a global context, integrating a wide range of IB-centric skills, addressing the learner profile, incorporating diverse question types, and encouraging cross-curricular connections. Is this good practice? Theoretically, sure. Is it confusing and taxing for many? Absolutely. It leaves a lot of leaders, and subsequently teachers, standing with shrugged shoulders and the “WTF?” face. The result is often a haphazard attempt to force ATL skills into lessons, cram content into global contexts, and, in the worst cases, insist that students memorize the learner profile 'just in case.' I’ve seen schools where 'trained' students become visibly anxious when asked about anything IB-related, as if trying to avoid some looming threat; they nervously recite buzzword-heavy responses, some of which aren't even accurate. This is by no means the norm, but it does exist.

For some schools, there’s a ‘fake it ’til you make it’ mentality, where the focus is more on the marketability of the IB program than on its proper implementation.

Perhaps the most significant reason a school struggles to implement these programs effectively is that leaders often don’t fully understand them. It may seem surprising that a school leader would oversee a program they don’t grasp, but it’s actually quite common. After all, administrators are primarily tasked with managing people rather than directly engaging with the curriculum. However, when dealing with a program as complex as the IB, this lack of understanding becomes a major issue. If leaders 'don’t get it,' how can they expect teachers, parents, or students to? The confusion often results in misguided attempts to juggle the program’s demands, sometimes leading to outcomes that verge on the absurd.

For instance, I once observed a principal at a school that offered both the IB and Common Core directing teachers to focus on Common Core instruction three days a week and the MYP the remaining two days. What the school actually needed was to integrate Common Core standards within the MYP framework. Instead, he earnestly suggested alternating between the two as if they were entirely separate curricula. This approach is akin to someone trying to lose weight by alternating between the keto diet and a low-fat diet—there’s a good chance neither would be effective because they have conflicting requirements. Success would only come from understanding how to combine the two into a cohesive plan, like a low-fat keto diet—which, I'm pretty sure, is called the Canned Tuna Diet. The same principle applies to curricula: you can’t have two divergent focuses and expect them to work unless you understand how to blend them effectively.

In a different school, the principal instructed his teachers to stick to the textbook and incorporate MYP elements only 'when possible.' In this case, the IB program took a deliberate backseat to local standards, likely because it wasn’t a 'Programme Evaluation' year. At yet another school, I witnessed a pro-IB director being ousted by an anti-IB principal in a coup that felt straight out of a Caesar playbook—leaving me standing there like some awkward houseguest who just watched a wife tell her husband she wants a divorce. Granted, these are merely anecdotal; but if you dive deep into the world of IB, you will undoubtedly find many teachers and leaders alike who can share similar tales of folly. On paper, the way some schools run their IB programs might seem like the setup for a YouTube prank video, but they are very real scenarios, playing out in different schools with different leaders across different countries. For some schools, there’s a ‘fake it ’til you make it’ mentality, where the focus is more on the marketability of the IB program than on its proper implementation. Often, the only time these schools make a concerted effort to meet the IB’s actual expectations is right before the review process.

Let’s Keep It Real

Now, I’m no shill for IB. Some schools like it, some don’t. I think any program can do right by students when implemented correctly. But I have not seen a program abused the way IB is. This results in some schools offering poor imitations of a program they often charge unknowing parents top dollar for. The solution for this is rather obvious: if a school wants to offer the IB, then why not learn how to implement it? If someone gifted you a sweet new car but it happened to come with a manual transmission, wouldn’t you learn to drive stick? Or would you just sit in the car and make “vroom” sounds, pretending to drive it? That would be rather silly, no? If someone bought you a game, wouldn’t you learn the rules? Or would you invite all your friends to play as you made up your own rules?

If someone gifted you a sweet new car but it happened to come with a manual transmission, wouldn’t you learn to drive stick? Or would you just sit in the car and make “vroom” sounds, pretending to drive it?

What’s most concerning about schools that improperly implement the IB is the significant cost involved. The IB isn’t cheap. Schools must not only pay substantial annual membership fees but also invest in ongoing teacher training. Additionally, many schools are encouraged to purchase ManageBac, IBs preferred learning management system, which carries lofty costs itself. So, from a business perspective, IB carries a high “buy-in” price. This makes it all the more puzzling as to why schools don’t learn these programs better. The IB is sort of like a franchise for education. If you buy a Smoothie King franchise, you should likely learn how to use the blenders. You’re not going to sit there confused and start bashing bananas and berries with a hammer, then throw them all into an empty blender in an attempt to fool the Smoothie King main office into believing you just made a tasty tropical beverage. Yet that is the manner in which some IB programs are run.

Thus, in the spirit of offering some unsolicited advice that I hope may be helpful for some school principal, director, founder, or financier down the road, here are a few key points to keep in mind about the IB.

A Few Humble Suggestions

First, the most marketable and revered aspect of the IB is the Diploma Program. Unlike its preliminary programs, the DP is structured, specific, and quantified by using an objective baseline. Earning an IB diploma offers reverence for your students, and providing it offers relevance for your school. You likely already know that. However, when used correctly, the MYP can suit your students well too. It can prepare students for DP when it is used correctly. But so can AP, IGCSE, Common Core, Next Gen, or whatever other approach you wish to take. You simply need to make sure that the starting point for the DP is the ending point for whatever curriculum you use before the DP. Build the bridge.

Second, try to take the IB’s ‘extracurriculars’ seriously; some aspects of the IB, such as CAS, TOK, or the personal and community projects, are too often treated as an afterthought, or worse yet, a nuisance. These weren’t included in the program just to be a pain; they were included because they theoretically offer value to students’ educational experiences. Because they aren’t anchored by grades the same way standard academic classes are, they’re often treated as items on a ‘this sucks’ list, just waiting to be checked off. Try to see the inherent value of these aspects of the program and create a school community that encourages and maximizes the experience. If every one of your students wants to visit an old age home for their CAS experience, then either your students are completely uninspired (possible); OR they lack any and all creativity (doubtful); OR they are smuggling out hard candies from the home residents (understandable). Show your students how to think bigger. Doing work at the old age home is valuable work, but it’s not something every student should be doing just because they have no other ideas.

...make sure that the starting point for the DP is the ending point for whatever curriculum you use before the DP.

Third, only adapt the IB if you have the gumption to ensure its fully-functional. Implementing the IB Programme as an immersive experience for your students and staff can yield a 'product' of immense value. However, to truly maximize its potential, you need vision, creativity, and strategic planning. Equally important is the ability to align the curriculum effectively and the patience to let the program fully develop. Moreover, fostering a school culture that embraces the IB philosophy, encourages staff to think creatively within a structured framework, and promotes adaptability is crucial. This often sounds overwhelming for people. It doesn't need to be. Once you have it functional, it essentially starts to maintain itself.

If you took on school leadership because you were inspired, then you can likely turn the IB into gold. If you took on leadership because you enjoy bossing people around, then your school will likely struggle regardless of what program you offer; and if you became school leader simply for the money, then I assume you must be getting paid well and I’d humbly ask if you’d be willing to donate to me a new Xbox- mine keeps overheating.

El Fin

In summary, the struggles schools face when implementing the IB is easy to understand; the IB is quite demanding. It has many terms, expectations, and components to it. There are even elements of its program that are pushed simply for their inherent value: students don’t get credit for them; there is no grade given; students are expected to do them out of a sense of responsibility. That can be very difficult for schools to manage, especially when they don’t embrace the mantra at the IB’s core. Thus, for schools who are offering the IB, particularly those who offer (or are considering offering) the IB continuum, it would behoove you over the long run to view all aspects of the IB as equally important, interconnected parts that need each other to survive, no different than body parts. Not only does your leg work well when your thigh and calf are connected; your entire body does. Same for the rest of your anatomy, because collectively they form a cohesive unit. If you go to the gym and only work your forearms and nothing else, then not only are you going to look like some bizarre Popeye-monster, you are also creating strength imbalances in your body. This is why people who exercise only their ‘vanity’ muscles rather than training their entire body often get injured.

...if you dive deep into the world of IB, you will undoubtedly find many teachers and leaders alike who can share similar tales of folly.

Your IB program shouldn’t have strength imbalances. You don’t need a Popeye program. You want a Schwarzenegger program. That’s what will keep parents saying, “I’ll be back.” Terrible analogy aside, parents are your customers. Their children’s ‘intellectual progress’ is your service. A strong service results in satisfied customers. Satisfied customers keep a business afloat… and as distasteful as it may sound, IB schools are a business. Willy Wonka knows how to make quality chocolate. Bill Gates knows how to make quality computers. If you sell IB, know how to make a quality program. Making sense makes cents. Lame pun. But a true statement all the same.