If you’ve ever wondered why some of your students seem effortlessly motivated while others struggle to engage, Deci and Ryan’s Self-Determination Theory (SDT) offers an explanation. SDT suggests people thrive when three basic needs are met: autonomy, competence, and relatedness.
Autonomy is the sense of control and choice students feel motivated when they believe their learning is self-directed, not imposed. This doesn’t mean removing structure; it means offering meaningful options, like letting students choose essay topics or topics for their Internal Assessments.
Competence is the need to feel capable and effective. In the IB context, this translates to students feeling that their effort leads to their progress. When tasks are scaffolded appropriately, i.e. challenging and achievable, learners are more likely to persist, master skills, and enjoy the process.
Relatedness is the social dimension: the need to feel connected to others. Supportive teacher–student relationships, collaborative activities, and a classroom climate of respect all feed this need. Students who feel valued and understood are far more likely to invest emotionally in their learning.
SDT also distinguishes between intrinsic motivation (doing something because it’s interesting or personally meaningful) and extrinsic motivation (doing it for rewards or to avoid punishment). The IB Diploma, with its emphasis on inquiry, reflection, and real-world relevance, is ideally suited to nurturing intrinsic motivation, but only if we design learning experiences that tap into those three needs.
For IB teachers, the message is clear: motivation isn’t something we give students; it’s something we help them build from within. When autonomy, competence, and relatedness are in balance, engagement deepens, learning becomes self-sustaining, and students start to take genuine ownership of their education.
In short, Self-Determination Theory reminds us that motivated learners aren’t just compliant: they’re connected, confident, and in control.
Dual Processing Theory proposes that our thinking operates through two systems. System 1 is fast, automatic, and intuitive. It relies on gut feelings and mental shortcuts. System 2 is slower, deliberate, and analytical and it requires conscious effort and logical reasoning. System 1 helps us make quick decisions, but it’s also prone to bias and error.
Slick salespeople are masters at keeping us in System 1 mode by using emotional triggers, urgency (“only two left!”), and social proof (“everyone’s buying this”) to push us toward snap decisions rather than careful thought. When we use emotions instead of analysis, we’re far more likely to make impulsive choices that feel right in the moment but aren’t necessarily rational or even in our best interest.
A simple but powerful defense is mental numeracy: the ability to add, divide, and calculate percentages in your head. This basic skill allows us to use System 2 thinking, helping us slow down and test the numbers behind a claim or offer. Whether it’s working out a “25% discount,” estimating interest rates, or spotting inflated statistics, numeracy keeps us grounded in reason and protects us from manipulation.
And that’s why every school should continue to prioritise mental arithmetic. It’s not just about passing exams; it’s about building citizens who can think clearly, question confidently, and resist being misled. We also need to stamp out the insidious attitude that “I’m not a numbers person.” No one would proudly say “I can’t read,” so why celebrate being bad at maths? Basic numeracy is not optional, it’s one of the strongest tools we have against error, bias, and exploitation.
And basic arithmetic is not complicated. It’s just a memorising game. It doesn’t require special genes or an app. Flashcards and repetition. And Motivation. (Tomorrow’s blog is all about Motivation.)
Once again, I’ve read another article on toxic masculinity. And once again, it had all the explanations, all the answers — except it didn’t.
It utterly missed the point.
On behalf of boys and men everywhere: we’re getting a bit fed up.
No, I am not to blame for poverty, climate change, AI, the global financial crisis, the Russian invasion of Ukraine, Trump’s tariffs, the falling exchange rate, the rising trade deficit, inflation, unemployment, population decline, or even the desperate plight of the bumblebee.
Nor is Jordan Peterson. Or Douglas Murray.
Like almost all men and boys, I’m just getting by. Trying to work my forty hours a week, pay the rent, put food on the table, not upset anyone, and maybe find a few quiet hours to watch YouTube or get some sleep.
But every time I open an article on “toxic masculinity,” it feels like the finger points at me — not as an individual, not even as a man, but as part of a supposedly broken gender. And frankly, that’s getting old.
The truth is, most men I know are decent. They show up. They care. They take responsibility. They support their partners, their kids, their parents, and their mates. They don’t go around blaming “toxic femininity” or anyone else for life’s problems — they just keep going.
Maybe it’s time we had a more honest conversation about masculinity — one that doesn’t start with blame, but with understanding. About the quiet pressure men feel to keep everything together. About the shame that comes with failure, silence, or asking for help. About how most of us don’t want to dominate anyone; we just want to matter.
So could all the experts on “toxic masculinity” please stop blaming 99.9% of men for everything that’s wrong with the world? We’re not the problem. We’re part of the same human struggle as everyone else — just trying to make it through.
Let’s be realistic: AI tools like ChatGPT aren’t going anywhere. Rather than fighting them, we should embrace how they can genuinely help students’ learning in our Economics and Psychology lessons (yes and GloPo and Geography and…)
The most obvious benefits are practical. Students get instant clarification on complex concepts like elasticity, marginal analysis, ethical frameworks, or psychological perspectives without waiting for teacher availability. Multilingual learners can quickly verify vocabulary, check spelling, and clarify nuanced differences between similar terms like equality and equity and ethics and responsibility. These are simple wins that reduce friction in learning.
But here’s where it gets interesting: AI as a peer marking substitute. This might be the most transformative classroom application. Students can submit practice essays, receive detailed feedback immediately, and revise before final submission. Unlike overwhelmed teachers or distracted classmates, AI provides consistent, patient feedback at 2 AM or during study lessons. This creates a faster feedback loop.
Beyond basic support, AI excels at writing improvement. It can suggest more concise phrasing, identify sloppy language, improve sentence variety, and help students find precise academic vocabulary. It checks logical sequencing in paragraphs, suggests better transitions, and helps organize brainstormed ideas into coherent outlines. For self-assessment, AI generates practice questions, creates study prompts, and offers sample answers for comparison. It can even simplify dense academic texts for initial comprehension.
These tools function as both tool and peer. Like a calculator or dictionary, they’re quick and accurate for checking details. Like a study partner, they’re good for support and dialogue. This dual nature means AI extends learning capacity.
The key is teaching students to use AI as a learning partner. When they use it to clarify, verify, refine, and deepen their understanding, they’re engaging more thoughtfully with content. That’s not cheating, it’s smart learning. We mustn’t ban AI; we must teach students how to leverage it effectively while maintaining academic integrity and developing their own critical thinking skills.
The IB has updated the Extended Essay Subject Guide (first exams 2027). One of the least discussed changes is that students in Language A can now write their essay in Literature: Creative Writing. There are five approved genres: romance, science fiction, literary fiction, humour, and epic poetry. Apparently, this is to give students greater opportunity to develop their Creativity which is one of the new strands/sub-circles to ATL (Approaches to Teaching and Learning). And, of course, another C to add to the omnipresent Concepts, Contexts, Content and Chaos.
Students can now channel their inner Jane Austen or J.R.R. Tolkien or Danny Brown while earning their diploma points.
And of course, students can go Interdisciplinary and combine an essay in creative writing with another subject such as Physics, Mathematics or Geography.
The Farcebook post suggested some possible titles:
1. “Pride and the Pythagoras: To what extent does the square of the hypotenuse lack humility?”
2. “Fifty Shades of Gray Matter: To what extent is Psychology dominated by sexual curiosity?”
3 “To what extent does Sun Tzu’s War and Peace explain the conflict in Ukraine?”
4. “Zombies and Zygotes: An exploration of the semi-living.”
5. “2b or not 2b? The secret algebra within Shakespeare’s Hamlet.’
6. “The lord of the files: Is Linux the best file management system?”
This Halloween brings a genuinely frightening economics lesson: candy inflation has reached terrifying new heights. For IBDP Economics students, this real-world example perfectly illustrates inflationary pressures and consumer behavior shifts.
The Sweet Truth About Rising Prices
3 Musketeers now tops the charts at $0.93 per ounce, making it 2025’s priciest chocolate treat. More startling is Laffy Taffy’s 44% price surge and Skittles’ 25% climb, though they remain relatively affordable at $0.40 per ounce. Only M&M’s bucked the trend, dropping 3% from last year—a rare example of deflation in a specific product market.
Cost-Push Inflation in Action
What’s driving these increases? Classic cost-push inflation. Rising input costs—cocoa, sugar, packaging materials, and transportation—force manufacturers to pass expenses onto consumers. The wide variation in price changes across different candies reflects how various supply chains face different cost pressures. Laffy Taffy’s dramatic 44% jump suggests particularly severe supply chain disruptions or ingredient cost increases.
Consumer Response: Demand Meets Reality
Halloween costumes mirror this trend. Mr. Fantastic’s $87.99 price tag versus Stitch’s $23.54 shows extreme price differentiation. These figures demonstrate how inflation affects discretionary spending—Americans are reconsidering what’s “worth the splurge,” classic rational consumer behavior when purchasing power declines.
For Economics students, this Halloween snapshot provides textbook examples of inflation’s real impact. When candy prices shock more than horror movies, you know economic theory has jumped straight from the textbook into your trick-or-treat bag. The question remains: will consumers substitute cheaper alternatives, reduce quantity demanded, or skip Halloween celebrations altogether? Watch consumer behavior closely—it’s economics in action.
As one study concluded: “Inflation has finally done what horror movies never could. It made adults too scared to celebrate.”
“As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light of meaning in the darkness of mere being.”
Carl Gustav Jung
Hello Everyone,
Just a quick update on how I think the roll-out of the new Guide is going.
The more I teach from the New Guide, the more I realise it requires far more careful handling when it comes to classroom communication and student tasks than the old one. It’s not just about changing what we teach, it’s about changing how we talk to students about it and standardizing language.
One of the biggest stumbling blocks I’ve encountered is terminology.
The 3Cs (Content, Concepts, and Contexts) may seem clear to us as teachers, but in practice, they cause confusion, especially with EAL students. This is because each of these words already has familiar meanings and etymologies outside of their specific IB usage. If we’re not intentional with language, students end up blurring these lines and losing precision in their understanding.
I’ve found it helps to standardise how we use these terms in class:
Context refers only to the four Context Units. For anything else, I deliberately use the phrase “in the area of…”. I explain the idea of Contexts to students by stating that it is just another word for “Topic” or “Unit”. I wish the IB would go back to old fashioned, basic language rather than co-opt existing words and attempt to recalibrate what they mean. But here we are!
Content refers strictly to the knowledge from the three Approaches. For other situations, I use the word “material”.
Concept refers only to the six IB Concepts and their related terms (see posters). For everything else, I use the word “ideas”.
This kind of language discipline might seem like a small detail, but it has made a noticeable difference in how clearly students understand the course and how confidently they approach assessment tasks. I now have students pausing before speaking to make sure they get the language right. I don’t like this hesitancy (particularly from my EALs) but this has been caused by the wording of the Guide not by anything we are doing wrong.
Eventually, it will help reduce unnecessary cognitive load because students will know exactly what I mean when I say “Concept” or “Context.”
My sense is that, with this Guide, the clarity of teacher language matters more than ever. As we move deeper into the new assessment structure, precision in communication will be as important as precision in content. I am looking more than ever to decorate my classroom with posters which offer basic and clear meanings for the new vocabulary. Find attached the Concept posters.
Mathematics is everywhere. It explains why some sports records fall like dominoes while others stand for decades. It reveals the alarming truth about climate change through simple patterns. It’s in the music we hear, the buildings we construct, and even the sticker albums we collect. So why, when it comes time for students to choose their Extended Essay topic, do so few pick mathematics?
Consider the fascinating case of world records in athletics. When Swedish pole vaulter Armand Duplantis cleared 6.3 metres at the Tokyo World Championships, he broke his 14th world record – an astonishing achievement showing how technical improvements can drive rapid progress in sport. Meanwhile, the men’s long jump record has been broken just once since 1968. What explains this dramatic difference? The answer lies in mathematical concepts like stationary systems and the harmonic series.
The Maths Behind the Records
Mathematicians use a clever rainfall analogy to understand record-breaking in stationary systems – situations where there’s no overall trend, just random variation. Imagine tracking annual rainfall across different cities with no climate change affecting the results. The first year automatically sets a record. In year two, roughly half the cities will exceed that record. By year three, only one-third will beat both previous years.
This creates a mathematical pattern known as the harmonic series: 1 + 1/2 + 1/3 + 1/4, and so on. Despite adding infinitely many terms, this series grows incredibly slowly. After 100 years, you’d expect only about five records total. After 1,000 years, just seven. The message is clear: even with pure chance, records should become increasingly rare over time.
Real-World Applications
This isn’t just theoretical number-crunching. Scientists use these mathematical principles to prove climate change is real and accelerating. If our climate were stable, hot temperature records should become rarer over time, following that harmonic pattern. Instead, they’re being broken four to six times more often than expected – mathematical proof that our planet is warming at an unprecedented rate. Cold temperature records, conversely, are falling half as quickly as they should, further confirming the trend.
The same mathematical thinking applies to athletics. Are we approaching peak human performance, or can we keep improving? The data suggests different answers for different events. Duplantis’s pole-vaulting dominance indicates that event hasn’t reached its stationary state – there’s still room for technical improvement. The stubborn long jump records (unbroken since 1991 for men, 1988 for women) suggest that event may have plateaued.
So Why the Shortage of Maths Extended Essays?
This brings us back to our central question. Mathematics offers incredibly rich material for Extended Essays. Students could explore the statistics of their favourite sport, analyze patterns in climate data, investigate the harmonic series in everyday contexts, or examine countless other real-world applications. The maths isn’t impossibly difficult – these concepts are accessible to IB students – yet somehow, maths Extended Essays remain rare.
Perhaps students don’t realize how applicable mathematics is to the real world. Maybe they think a maths EE means pages of abstract equations with no connection to anything tangible. Or possibly they haven’t encountered teachers who can show them mathematics as the beautiful, explanatory tool it truly is – capable of revealing why Katie Ledecky breaks swimming records, why climate change is undeniable, and why you need to buy so many more sticker packets than you’d intuitively expect to complete your collection.
The irony is profound. Mathematics explains the world around us with elegant precision, yet students overlook it when choosing Extended Essay topics. They gravitate toward subjects that seem more “real-world” without recognizing that mathematics is the ultimate real-world subject.
An Opportunity Waiting
For students considering their Extended Essay options, mathematics offers a golden opportunity. Unlike humanities subjects where you’re competing with countless similar essays, a well-crafted maths EE stands out. You can tackle genuinely interesting questions, use real data, and reach meaningful conclusions – all while developing analytical skills that will serve you throughout university and beyond.
So next time you watch Armand Duplantis soar over the bar or hear about another climate record falling, remember: there’s fascinating mathematics behind it all. And it’s all waiting for someone to explore it in an Extended Essay.
When someone proudly announces that they speak three, four, or even six languages, it can sound impressive. There’s discipline, commitment, and plenty of practice behind that achievement. But every so often, I find myself wondering: what if all that effort went into the mechanics of language learning, without much substance to fill the conversations? It’s like listening to a virtuoso pianist who only plays scales—technically dazzling, but not especially engaging.
This thought has broader relevance to what we do as IB educators. We know that knowledge acquisition matters. Students must learn the structures, the frameworks, the technical skills of our disciplines. But if their entire focus rests on collecting skills—whether it’s mastering a language, memorizing formulas, or perfecting essay templates—they may miss the deeper purpose: using those tools to explore ideas, make meaning, and engage with the world.
The International Baccalaureate reminds us of this balance constantly. The Learner Profile emphasizes not just being knowledgeable, but also being thinkers, communicators, and principled. A student who can flawlessly recite definitions but never apply them to a real-world situation is just as limited as a polyglot who can switch between six languages but has nothing to say in any of them. The point is not how much knowledge is acquired, but how it is used to generate understanding and insight.
As teachers, we see this tension daily. A mathematics student might become obsessed with solving increasingly complex problems but struggle to explain why the method matters. A language student might focus on vocabulary drills but never engage with the cultural ideas behind the texts. A history student might learn every date and treaty but fail to reflect on how those events shaped today’s world. These are all variations of the same challenge: skill without substance.
So how do we, as IB teachers, help students move beyond scales to symphonies? One approach is to design learning that requires transfer. Instead of just drilling formulas, we ask students to use them to model a real-life scenario. Instead of focusing solely on vocabulary, we ask them to discuss a contemporary issue in the target language. Instead of memorizing dates, we ask them to evaluate perspectives on a historical event and connect it to present-day conflicts. Depth grows when students are pushed to apply their skills to problems that demand reflection, judgment, and creativity.
This also has implications for how we model learning ourselves. If we celebrate multilingualism, it shouldn’t be just for the number of languages learned, but for the opportunities it gives us to encounter new cultures, challenge assumptions, and hold richer conversations. If we celebrate a student’s mastery of equations, it should be because they can use those equations to make sense of a phenomenon that matters. The aim is always to shift the focus from “look what I can do” to “look what I can think about, question, and contribute because of what I can do.”
Perhaps that’s the deeper reminder here: in education, as in life, substance matters more than surface. It’s not about how many languages you know, but whether you use them to say something meaningful. Not about how many formulas you can recite, but whether you can use them to illuminate a problem. Not about how many facts you remember, but whether you can weave them into a story that makes sense of the world.
In the end, our role as IB teachers is to keep pushing students beyond the mechanics of learning into the messy, complex, and rewarding realm of meaning-making. Because while scales and drills may build skill, it is the music—and the conversation—that truly lasts.
90+% of students now use AI in their academic work, but only 36% have received formal guidance on how to use it effectively. We were obsessed for a while on how to use AI correctly, i.e. referencing etc., and we neglected to discuss how to use it effectively, so let’s address that now.
The real issue isn’t that students are using AI, it’s that they’re using it passively. When they copy and paste entire paragraphs into assignments, they’re not learning; they’re outsourcing their thinking. The result is generic, shallow work that misses the point of education entirely, although it meets the student’s immediate assessment demands.
Here’s the good news: AI doesn’t have to undermine students’ learning. Used thoughtfully, it can enhance students’ critical thinking skills.
The Psychology Behind the Problem
Research suggests that AI use often triggers what psychologist Daniel Kahneman called ‘System 1 thinking’: fast, automatic responses that bypass deeper reflection. Students treat AI like an all-knowing System 2 tool, but they’re being nudged into heuristics, mental shortcuts by time and stress constraints. The cognitive struggle that builds understanding gets quietly erased.
This isn’t just about grades. Studies show that students who rely heavily on AI demonstrate reduced neural engagement in regions associated with memory and executive control. They produce less original content and struggle to recall what they’ve supposedly ‘written’.
A better approach: Be actively curious
Instead of asking AI to do your thinking, use it to support and enhance your thinking, for example:
Start with your own ideas first. Map out your problem-solving approach before firing up AI and then compare your reasoning with AI’s results. This creates valuable learning moments about your own thought processes.
Interrogate AI’s responses. Ask, ‘Where does this information come from?’ ‘What assumptions is the AI making?’ ‘What would I change and why?’ If you can’t answer these questions without AI’s help, the learning hasn’t happened – yet.
Use AI as the starting point, not the end point. Generate preliminary ideas with AI, then critically evaluate and refine them through independent research. Compare AI’s suggestions against reliable academic sources.
Practise reflective annotation. When you use AI-generated content, annotate it. Explain why you chose to include it, what limitations it might have, and how it connects to broader themes in your field. Just as you would do with material from academic sources.
The goal isn’t to avoid AI – Luddites would want to do that. The goal is to maintain intellectual ownership of your work while leveraging AI’s capabilities. Used appropriately, AI can support your thinking. Used passively, it will replace the cognitive work that deep learning requires.
And at the end, ask yourself: Do I truly understand the content I’m submitting? Can I explain it without AI’s help? If not, I’m missing the point of my education.
I think, therefore IB 