In the latest tragic experiment in international education diplomacy, the world’s most infamous academic programs — IB, AP, A-Level, Gaokao, and Suneung — were placed into a single classroom to “foster mutual understanding and shared learning.” Instead, what unfolded resembled less of a study session and more of a live-action Black Mirror episode set in a library.

Hour One: The Calm Before the Breakdown

At first, things were eerily quiet. IB had already colour-coded their notes by emotional trauma and was calmly explaining the 12 different types of assessment criteria to a confused wall.

“Wait,” asked AP, shaking slightly as they downed their third espresso shot. “You don’t have multiple choice in your finals?”

IB looked horrified. “You mean... you get choices?”

In the corner, A-Level was having a full-blown existential monologue with a textbook titled “Mechanics and Pure Maths, Volume VIII.” Occasionally they muttered “This is fine” while drawing increasingly detailed flowcharts of their impending doom.

Hour Two: The National Lockdown Realization

Tension escalated when Suneung, sitting with perfect posture and 500 pages of condensed notes memorized to the punctuation mark, looked up and said, “Wait… so you guys don’t have a national lockdown on the day of your exams?”

Everyone turned.

“You mean… planes still fly?” they added. “I walked past a wedding once during my Suneung,” they continued. “The bride paused her vows so I wouldn’t lose focus.”

IB looked like they were about to cry. “We can barely get people to be quiet during paper 2.”

Gaokao, who hadn’t spoken all day, gave a slow, respectful nod. “That’s power.”

Hour Three: Mental Deterioration Accelerates

Things reached a boiling point when IB asked, “Wait—you don’t have to write a 4,000-word essay and reflect on how it made you feel as a global citizen?”

AP spit out their coffee. “You reflect?”

A-Level threw a chair.

Suneung blinked once. Gaokao hadn’t moved in an hour and was possibly astral projecting into a mathematical realm where the exams had already been passed.

Hour Four: Study Methods Diverge

IB began using a vision board, incense sticks, and a productivity playlist titled “Emotional Damage but Academic Glory.” AP had flashcards taped to every visible surface, including their own forehead.

Occasionally they cried in Spanish.

A-Level started constructing an actual timeline of British imperialism... from memory. Gaokao began solving triple integrals while chewing on a textbook.

Suneung was now training under weighted gravity in the hallway, claiming “this simulates Korean test pressure more accurately.”

Hour Five: Philosophical Breakdown

IB, rocking gently in their chair, whispered, “Does knowledge even exist if it isn’t reflected upon through a global lens?”

A-Level screamed, “Shakespeare DIED for this!”

AP fainted into a pile of Princeton Review books.

Suneung got a nosebleed from thinking too hard and said, “This is... normal.”

Gaokao started glowing.

Final Moments: Escape or Enlightenment?

The teacher returned to find the classroom abandoned — just five piles of notes, one still-smoking AP practice paper, and a Post-it from IB that read: “We CAS-ed our way out.”

Security footage shows the students running out together in slow motion, eyes wild, hearts united by one common truth:

No one understands their pain. Not even the syllabus