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COMPARING THE & THE INTERNATIONAL BACCALAUREATE the characteristics and good practices of the EB and IB by Michael Robert Gray, Headmaster of Institut Le Rosey

Introduction

That – as I am sure most of you know – is Cary Grant, Hollywood’s most debonair and greatest leading man. It was said that everyone wanted to be Cary Grant (including Cary Grant). Sadly, I have almost nothing in common with him except my British origins and the number 5. Cary Grant, in classic Hollywood style, was married five times and I have worked in five different national and international education systems. And I have loved all of them … but not equally … and often with a roving eye.

I have taught in ; in the UK I taught A Levels and GCSEs; in I taught the French baccalauréat as well as the option internationale of the bac; I taught in the European Schools (ES) for nine years (in Brussels where the Director was Rien Jonkers); and since 2002 I have been Head of an international boarding school in Switzerland which offers the IB diploma (and the French bac), where we have 64 nationalities and a limit of 10% for any one of them

So I suppose I am here as a serial monogamist ready to reveal marriage secrets: to say which was the best and particularly to compare the last two, the IB and the European Schools. As in any marriage, I have criticisms to make and maybe even some infidelities to confess, and comparisons are inevitable. And I would say invaluable.

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And this, to get right down to it, is the fundamental value of international education – however we may define it: it engenders what has been called “alternativism” – another way of seeing the world and our place within it. In the words of the IB Mission Statement, it shows us “that other people, with their differences, can also be right”.

******* My plan is to bore half of the audience in turn since nearly everyone here probably knows one of these systems at least as well as I do. And some – poor things – may know both, so they risk being bored all the way through. To keep them awake I hope to make some gently provocative remarks about both the IB and the European Schools.

I expect many of you have seen Sir Ken Robinson’s famous TED talk. Even if we do not entirely accept his simplified critique of state schooling for the masses, education for the vast majority of our populations is organized at a state level and is financed by state taxes. So for most people, in Europe at least, education is national rather than international.

When should education begin and end? What should be taught and how should it be evaluated? How should teachers be trained? These and many, many other practical and ideological questions are the subject of vigorous debate in the national political arena.

And educational systems are fundamental aspects of how nations see themselves. The educated Dutchman or woman has probably studied classics and will probably feel very uncomfortable with as many as 1% of 100 students obtaining 10/10. Their French peers will have studied philosophy as one of up to 11 academic disciplines in a determinedly secular system, while their English equivalents will have studied only three or four closely related 3 subjects after the age of 16 and will probably have attended a religious ceremony at the beginning of every school day.

This is more than anecdotal. The French, for example, not only believe in an encyclopaedic approach to education, they also believe in a specific way of approaching questions in the humanities, of studying Mathematics and of studying their own language. There can be no doubt that there is a French national educational model, just as there is an English, German, Swiss and Dutch.

And radical change is difficult. “Experimenting with our children’s futures” is the sort of phrase that no minister of education would want to hear. Our approach is usually to tinker at the edges, to instigate initiatives, to create some different schools, to alter some teaching approaches.

But perhaps international education is different. Schools without national affiliations and without political pressures; an international choice of who to appoint; students liable to move around the world. The chance to experiment and to leave behind the old-fashioned, non-creative ways of teaching. 4

If the learning factory is indeed still the basis of national systems as many would have us believe, then international education is the Google future of play rooms, maker labs, 21st-century skills, constructivist philosophies of education. It is also the free market where parents and teachers are free to choose and change.

But, of course, it didn’t start with that objective nor is it necessarily seen by most of its practitioners in that way. International education is first and foremost simply “not national”. It is the pragmatic solution to children studying beyond their national borders and an ideological statement in favour of international understanding and global cooperation, and the rejection of narrow national prejudices.

The European Schools

Given the distances and diversity involved, and the existence of overseas British, American, French and German schools it is no surprise that an international education programme took so long to emerge.

Yet in 1953, with the creation of the European Coal and Steel Community, the of was created remarkably quickly. The statute of the European Schools followed in 1957, and in 1959 pupils from EEC countries educated together sat the first 5

European Baccalaureate. This was the first international school system and the European Bac the first transnational qualification.

There are now 14 official European Schools across the continent all sited close to European institutions serving their pragmatic purpose of providing schooling for children of EU employees. Excitingly, there are also 12 (and soon to be 13) accredited European Schools – one of which is in The Hague. These accredited schools are self-financing unlike the official schools, which are funded partly by the country in which they are sited and partly by the EU and EU member countries. The essential condition for accreditation is to adopt the policies, programmes and philosophy of the original European Schools. So just what are these?

If national educational systems are political so is the European Schools system – but it is an “inter-national” system, one worked out and shared between a group of nations with a shared political project. The ES set out to create a supranational entity and they do so in a post-WW2 dirigiste style, creating a whole system and a common graduating exam.

The best place to start is the inspiring mission statement from Marcel Decombis.

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And these are the objectives

What does this mean in practice?

Children from different states and language communities are educated in the same school. They follow the same curriculum but in their own language (their L1) in separate language sections. Only the programme of the mother tongue, the L1, is left to each language section to decide upon. So Dutch and Flemish-speaking Belgians are first educated together, learning Maths, Science, History, Geography and so on from Dutch-speaking teachers recruited from both countries. Meanwhile in the English-speaking section, the same applies to British and Irish pupils, in the Greek to Greeks and the Italian to Italians and so on. In the primary school, moreover, each section often has a geographical base on the campus and the children from different countries are indeed educated side by side in parallel tracks from age 3 to 18.

The same programmes in different languages and taught in different styles redolent of the home country, since 60% teachers are seconded or détachés, on a foreign posting for a maximum of nine years before returning home.

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But although children belong to different sections running on parallel tracks, the system seeks to build connections and pan-Europeanism so that by the time students graduate at the age of 18 the European dimension is at least as important as the national.

First, as we have seen, some sections are themselves international since their languages cross borders. Second, all children from the primary years onwards have to choose one of three foreign languages (English, French or German), as their L2, which they study with children from other sections in multinational classes.

Third, the primary schools have European Hours in which nationalities are mixed and children are taught by teachers from outside their section. Music and Art classes are also mixed and teachers regularly employ two or three languages in the classroom.

Fourth, sport and the playground are multinational and multilingual and the spirit of the school is clearly European and non-national. What is more, schools are, by their very nature, sited in multi-national communities where most of the students and their families are living abroad and social life often straddles various nationalities.

In the secondary years (11-18), students also take up a second foreign language, their L3. Then – and this is crucial – from the third year of secondary, all begin to study History and Geography in their L2. So, by the time a student enters the final two years of secondary 8 education before sitting the European Baccalaureate, she will be studying a programme with tracks crossing like spaghetti until she arrives at the European terminus.

Spaghetti apart, it’s undoubtedly a neat and tidy system, permeated by an international daily reality. It has an elegance, clarity and idealism to it and its greatest strength is undoubtedly languages and multilingual communication between the students as well as the sense of European equality it engenders.

But…

The system is over 50 years old and was designed for a six-nation Europe. It coped well with 12 but now, with 28 nations and 22 languages, it is creaking

Many students are without language sections – SWALs. They receive mother-tongue classes in language and literature and then choose another language section (usually English) for the rest of their classes. As we will see, this is reminiscent of the IB but it is not entirely in line with the ES ideal.

The system works well for children who spend a good deal of time in it, but it is less suited to latecomers who have not the language skills to cope. And although theoretically inclusive, the system is suited to the academically able – the lycée, Gymnasium and “Grammar School” children who no doubt make up the bulk of EU employees’ children. But not all, and children with serious learning differences are not really catered for, while those who cannot cope do not “pass” the year must repeat it and are ultimately weeded out.

Some would also argue that the curriculum is “old-fashioned” with a stress on academic knowledge. There are some aspects of the ES system which are pedagogically interesting 9

(Euromaths, for example; the examination system with its orals) but it moves forward slowly and awkwardly. Teacher training and pedagogical innovation are very limited and the system is centrist as one might expect when teachers are replaced after five or nine years, irrespective of their success and skills and when the Board is made up of representatives of 28 nations and the commission primarily under pressure to organize the system rather than spend time on developing pedagogy and programmes.

Yet despite their manifold problems the ES inspire loyalty and idealism. Even if the nature and ideals of the EU seem to be under threat for all sorts of reasons, the cultural diversity yet cohesion of the schools is remarkable and they are, I believe, uniquely international. It’s not just that and are different it is that, for example, a Danish section becomes mini- within the campus – and Danish children singing Santa Lucia is a genuine injection of Scandinavian culture.

These admirable traits have led the Conseil supérieur to accredit independent European Schools, with some success.

The IB

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Nevertheless, a system with fewer than 30 schools and under 30,000 pupils pales into insignificance beside the IB behemoth. From 12 international schools with about 700 pupils dotted across the world in 1969 the growth of the IB has been spectacular. There are now over 4000 schools and total numbers estimated at well over a million in more than 100 countries.

There is a parallel with the ES in the IB’s birth since the impetus for a common graduating diploma sprang principally from schools used by international civil servants and diplomats in Geneva and New York and from sizeable international schools across the world seeing an influx of non-British and American students. My own school which only took up the IB is 2000 was a good example of a pre-IB age.

In short– and in this it is similar to the ES –a mixture of pragmatic, practical considerations and internationalist, idealistic impulses lay behind the creation of the IB’s two-year graduating programme and international school-leaving qualification– not, you will note, a system.

But there was a significant difference. From the beginning, the IB wanted to re-think educational principles. Its founding fathers were not politicians but educationalists or educational thinkers. They included Alex Peterson of the Oxford School of Education as well as Kurt Hahn the head of Atlantic College, an institution strongly imbued with a British 11 boarding school ethos. And rather than only six countries with similar encyclopaedic diplomas (the , the bac and the Maturita have much in common) here were dozens of countries and educational ideologies, including the British early specialization model (3 A- levels), the US “liberal Arts” philosophy of choice combined with the need for breadth and the French encyclopaedic baccalaureate model.

What they created is still there fifty years later. It was originally schematized as a hexagon and it is useful to see it in these terms.

The IB diploma comprises six areas of study – and arguably six ways of thinking or knowing: literature in the mother tongue, maths, a science, a humanity, a foreign language and the arts. The first five are compulsory and the sixth (the arts – music, theatre or art) can be replaced with a second science, language or humanity. This satisfies the liberal arts concept and much of the thinking behind the French bac. To further satisfy the Europeans and particularly the British with their tradition of early specialization, all students are obliged to study three of the six subjects at “Higher Level”. This means a more extensive syllabus, 50% more teaching and in most cases intellectually more demanding programmes.

But there is more because at the centre of the hexagon are three elements. The first, Theory of Knowledge, or TOK, reflects the French insistence on philosophy (and perhaps the Anglo-Saxon nations’ paucity of philosophy teachers). TOK deals with the nature of understanding particularly in the six principal areas of knowledge in the hexagon. For many it represents the soul of the IB and is the way towards new forms of understanding, cross- curricular understanding and critical thinking.

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Second, and reflecting the British boarding school input is CAS – creativity, action and service. All students are expected to achieve learning outcomes, validated by their school. This encourages a vast number of humanitarian activities, clubs and societies within the schools. In practice, CAS has led to a full programme of sporting and artistic activities in hundreds of IB schools, as well as a quite remarkable proliferation of “charity” projects. In my own school not only have we encouraged students to work with local organizations but they have also helped finance the construction of a school in Mali, created student bursaries and initiated a micro-finance scheme in Nepal.

Finally, all students must write an extended essay – a university-style academic 4000-word dissertation.

The IB diploma is a first-rate academic qualification, highly regarded by UK and US universities and is generally popular with teachers. It offers breadth and depth as well as a degree of flexibility which students find genuinely attractive. What is more, syllabuses and subjects available evolve so as to take account of changing student requirements and educational developments across much of the world.

And it has now evolved into a full educational system with its “Learner Profile” developed in 2006. Here it is and, as you can see, this implies a different and arguably more modern approach to education.

As an educational package then, the IB diploma is surely an impressive concept – and it is appreciated as such by students, who are actually encouraged to think about the nature of their education.

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* Nearly 3000 schools offer the IB diploma but over the last 20 years other IB programmes have developed so that as with the ES, there is now a complete and coherent system of education in place and nearly 1500 schools offer the PYP and or the MYP although fewer than 10% of IB schools offer all three programmes.

The whole is inspiring and idealistic, but how international is it? It’s not entirely fair to do so, but I will concentrate only on the diploma since it is by far the most common of the three programmes.

The new design certainly puts international-mindedness in a key position and, of course, in international schools like mine, internationalism is unavoidable. What is more the syllabus – particularly in the humanities – clearly favours an international approach. The literature programme includes World Literature and obliges all students to study works in translation. The TOK course makes explicit reference to non-Western philosophy.

* This slide deliberately omits the recently introduced IBCC (IB Career-related programme), combining elements of the IBDP and vocational learning. 14

Second, all diploma students must study a foreign language at an appropriate level. This can be as a second “mother tongue”, as a foreign language at CEFR level of B2 or B1, or it can beginner level. (This will hardly seem international to most European countries and some would say that the level of languages required by the IB is relatively light. About a third of diploma candidates take B Higher level (upper intermediate) and half of those take English as their foreign language – and in most case, this will be the language of the school.)

The IB is offered in three languages: English, French and Spanish. A dual-language IB diploma exists in German and Japanese while Arabic, Indonesian, Turkish and Chinese are denominated as “Access” languages.

More impressive is the range of mother tongue literature courses. In 2015, there were about 70 including not just the usual suspects but a vast number of exotic visitors – and at my school we have offered over 25 languages including Dzonghka, Kurdish and Armenian. This means that about 30% of IB candidates study their mother tongue literature and sit the rest of the diploma (almost always) in English. This is the main way of obtaining the IB’s bilingual diploma.

Although international in name and certainly in its birth, the IB is probably more influenced by UK and US thinking and is certainly Anglophone in its orientation. And not just in sheer weight of numbers. A few examples: the literature courses are very much based on British and US models rather than the European philological tradition. (It is interesting to note that the mother tongue syllabus for the EB is the only part of the curriculum that is not harmonized whereas in the IB all 70 languages have the same format of exam and candidates are expected to do the same type of tasks.) The different Maths levels cater to British and to a lesser extent top US universities. Geography follows the UK definition of the subjects and includes Physical geography which might come in a science course elsewhere. Economics is similar to British A level Economics.

With its startling growth, some fear that the IBO is becoming a bureaucratic mammoth, trapped on the one hand in a stultifying synergy with US and UK competitive university admissions, and pulled, on the other, towards a wishy-washy feel-good educational idealism.

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It may well be that this extraordinary growth will eventually enrich the IB and create greater diversity, but the great weight of growth is Anglophone rather than international – even in Asia where the IB is part of the offer of educational elitism; and you might reasonably wonder if the IB is being used as a weapon in market-driven national educational debates. You might also ask whether the IB, despite the “international” name and ethos, is not really just an unwitting foot soldier in a process of Anglo-American cultural imperialism.

Or at least a useful marketing tool or a sort of massive franchising operation.

Many people in European Schools may say it is, but I don’t think that’s not fair on the IB and the committed and idealistic people who work for it and 00’s of international and national schools across the world. But, of course, many things are not intended to work in the way that they do.

So, Is the IB a better option than the European Schools?

First, their philosophies are clearly things that cannot be rated against each other: they both have a clear raison d’être. For a national school in mainland Europe on the lookout for an international system, the ES has its advantages. In others, however, the IB might be at least equally appropriate. 16

Is one system more international than the other? Certainly, as part of a European School experience, with different language sections working in parallel, the ES system is more European and really more international. But for non-Europeans, the IB may offer advantages despite its Anglophone cultural bias.

As for level and quality, there isn’t much to choose: both are designed for the top 40% of the school population (PISA scores for Luxembourg ES and international schools are very similar). In individual subjects, the IB is probably more demanding but probably not for the 70% of students who do not opt for a bilingual diploma.

The ES system is always genuinely bilingual and can offer a remarkably balanced bilingual programme. So can the IB if students are bilingual in French, Spanish and English (and their school offers them the chance to study in the three languages). But it usually doesn’t in national schools, which make up the majority of the IB community..

The IB however is a much more up-to-date examination, sensitive to the latest trends in educational policy and research. (Some might say excessively so.) The extended essay, the World Literature element, the projects, the range of subjects available and now innovative on-screen assessment are all indications of an exam which continues to evolve.

The IB is also much more flexible from the student’s point of view – and it would be foolish to underestimate the growing importance of a free-market approach to education.

The documentation provided by the IB is copious – at times, indeed, it is daunting and bureaucratic but there is probably no other way of developing a credible worldwide 17 qualification. The nature of the syllabuses, their aims and objectives, subject guides, examination methods and specifications, grading methods, specimen papers, examiners’ reports, harmonization of grading practices, review, etc. put the EB to shame.

What’s more, the IB offers a complete and growing community of professionals and learners with regular training sessions, conferences and meetings. The quality is high and IB teachers actually like to attend.

It is my suspicion, in fact that the ES can only be exported to a very specific type of school, able to provide some semblance of language sections and with students keen to operate in two languages. These sorts of school exist in the , it is true, but not in many other places. And where will the international teachers come from?

Of course, if the only real L2 is English, they’ll be practised international teachers from the UK and Ireland, making the EB-school little more than a Dutch-English, German-English, Czech-English school. And that would be my fear – indeed, the student’s choice of English is already a problem for the ES system.

In fact, the great problem with International Education is English – in the ES as well as the IB. English has come to mean international for many people and although we can build “international mindedness” into programmes, there is always the danger of Anglophone mindset – like a car out of control, driven by a somewhat drunken Cary Grant.