It honestly does not make sense to keep diploma exams if students are already taking full-year courses. Teachers evaluate us over months through assignments, tests, labs, and projects, which gives a much more accurate picture of our understanding than one high-stakes exam. Diplomas add unnecessary stress, and one bad day can significantly impact a student’s grade and future opportunities. If full-year assessments already measure learning effectively, diploma exams are redundant and should be cancelled.
I'm a student of the subject MAI SL, and today I have take the TZB exam. Honestly, I think they have made the exam very complicated, since compared to the exams we have available to practice from 2021 plus the specimen papers, it is not even close to what we students have had to face today!. I don't know if this is due to last year's leaks, but if it's because of this, I neither understand why the M25 students would have to suffer these consequences for a past situation and convocatory.
Obviously, I would like to convey to the IB team that this generates a lot of frustration for us, because we have worked very hard during the two years of the Diploma course and have been able to cope with the pressure and the work that this entails, for an exam of this difficulty, never seen before, to have to define our grade and, for some, their future.
In addition, I would like to point out that exercise 11 of the MAI SL exam of TzB had three sections and two of them had to be done with vectors, which were not seen in the syllabus. Please take the necessary measures, we just want a solution. This is serious for IB students.
Honestly, that exam felt really unfair. The layout was the same, but the types of questions were way more complicated and unexpected compared to past papers. A lot of us were thrown off, even after practicing properly. It wasn’t that we didn’t study the paper just didn’t reflect what we were prepared for. On top of that, the time pressure made it almost impossible to show proper working or think clearly. That’s not how we should be assessed, and the grade boundaries need to account for that. And I know a lot of my friends, no matter which math they took SL,HL,AI or AA everyone felt the same.
As someone who consistently scores well in this subject, the paper 1 for AA SL was unnecessarily difficult. I am aware that difficult questions need to be given in order to separate the high scorers from the rest. However, in my point of view, it was not the difficulty levels that were the issue. It was time. The test was poorly designed in terms of time allocated per question. It is not possible for students to attempt all questions in this exam under the given time conditions without skipping over/rushing them. I believe that the IB should test students on their mathematical knowledge, and not how well they manage their time under pressure.
As someone who isnt the best at maths, but still can get some points here and there, the paper was impossible for me. I study using past papers to learn how to do questions that the IB tends to repeat. Unfortunately for me, the questions this year looked nothing like past papers, and frankly im not sure i learned any of it in class. Several students in my class have 7 everywhere, and they came out of the exams saying they failed it. Theres obviously an issue if even the best students flunk the exams.
My name is Kristina Van Hombeeck, and in 2009 I was expelled from Notre Dame Regional Secondary. This letter is not just about me — it is for every misfit, every chubby kid, every queer, trans, coloured, or simply different student who was crushed beneath the weight of a community that claimed to be Catholic but lived as a mob. A community that only celebrated those who fit its narrow mold: those who excelled at football, those who looked the part, those who mirrored the standards of a predominantly Italian, white culture. Speaking as someone who is half Italian, I can say with certainty: this was not faith. It was fear. Fear of difference. Fear of truth. Fear of anyone who refused to bow.
I was expelled not for violence, not for crime, but as a political move when Mr. Rogér DesLauriers took power after Mike Cooke. Propped up by parent committees and emboldened by a culture of conformity, he “cleaned house” by making examples of the students who didn’t fit. I was one of them. It was never about education — it was about image, control, and intimidation. The message was clear: if you don’t bend, you will be broken.
I will not pretend I was perfect. I skipped classes out of boredom. I altered my uniform because I was mocked daily for being fat and ugly, and I needed some way to reclaim dignity. I carried wounds and sometimes acted out of them. But what was overlooked — what was buried beneath the weight of ridicule and rejection — was my intellect, my creativity, my potential. Notre Dame never nurtured that. It only punished me for daring to exist outside its mold. And the trauma of that exile — the shame, the humiliation, the sheer cruelty — followed me for years.
Mr. DesLauriers was no more than a figurehead of a deeper rot. When I was expelled, my elementary school took me back, but even then, parents in the community who had children at Notre Dame complained that I was a “bad example,” a “menace.” I was sixteen. A child. And yet a whole community of adults chose to demonize me rather than reflect on the ugliness in their own hearts. This was not Catholicism. This was cowardice dressed in vestments.
Sixteen years have passed. I have built a life, a career, a voice. I am a marketing director. I am successful. I am whole. And yet, when I recently heard a faculty member call Mr. DesLauriers “Voldemort — he who must not be named,” it hit me. She told me that kids like me become “the most interesting people.” Interesting. I am not interesting because you broke me. I am interesting because I refused to let you keep me broken. But I am also proof of your failure: proof that you buried brilliance under your biases, that you silenced potential with cruelty, that you confused punishment with righteousness.
Do not point the finger solely at Rogér DesLauriers. Look inward. Look at every time you dimmed a child’s light, every time you mocked someone for their body, their race, their difference, every time you chose popularity over compassion. That is your confession, not the rehearsed words you whisper in a booth on Sunday. Do not hide behind stained glass and Latin hymns. If you wish to call yourselves Catholic, then live with the courage to see your sins for what they are.
If Mr. DesLauriers is Voldemort, then I am Harry Potter. And unlike you, I have never been afraid to call evil by its name.
“Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves.” – Matthew 7:15