The Day My Daughter, Who Studied for 12 Hours a Day, Cried - The Frustration of High School Entrance Exams and What Lies Beyond

Introduction

This spring, my third-year junior high school daughter took on the challenge of high school entrance exams. As a parent who watched her study diligently for months, I want to record the days spent facing the results. This experience is a story about the harsh reality of life—that effort does not always lead to the desired outcome—and the strength to move forward regardless. I am writing this record to preserve the feelings of a parent facing their child's setback. I hope it serves as a reference for those going through similar experiences.

My Daughter's Days of Effort

My daughter truly dedicated her entire life to studying. While getting ready to go out, she would listen to study videos on YouTube, and while brushing her teeth, she would memorize vocabulary words while looking at sticky notes on the mirror. Such scenes were part of our daily life. There were days when she studied for 12 hours, and just before the exams, she even stopped going to school to study in the cram school's self-study room.

It seems she studied until the cram school's self-study room closed late at night. I heard later that among the students at the cram school aiming for top-tier high schools, my daughter spent the most time in the self-study room. She seemed to have a favorite teacher there, and she often talked about them at home. I remember her coming home just before the exams with a handful of handwritten message cards from her teachers. They were business-card-sized cards with the teacher's photo and messages like "You'll definitely pass!" It seems that in modern cram schools, teachers need to have a distinct personality, and all the teachers have cards printed with their own faces.

Since her mock exam scores and acceptance ratings were improving, she must have approached the day with confidence. She received words of encouragement from her cram school teachers saying, "At this rate, you'll definitely pass!" and she herself felt confident. It certainly wasn't a high school she could pass with ease, but having seen her efforts, I also believed there was a good chance.

The Day of the Results

Even after the exam, she seemed convinced she had passed because her self-scoring put her in the passing range. She spent some relaxing days playing games and watching TV, things she had sealed away until then. I also thought she had passed based on her reaction on the day of the exam, to the point where I jokingly told her before leaving for work, "Let me know if you didn't pass."

Then came the day of the results announcement.

I couldn't check with her because I was at work. I found out through a single LINE message from my wife: "The number isn't there."

Those few words shattered months of my daughter's hard work.

I heard later that the cram school teacher searched for my daughter's number first among all the students. I learned this through a follow-up apology call from the cram school saying, "We are sorry we couldn't be of more help..."

My daughter cried uncontrollably. Given her good school records and her confidence on the day of the exam, her disappointment was profound. She had been looking forward to going to the cram school to share the joy of passing after the announcement, so the disappointment must have been immeasurable. It was more than just an exam result. For her, it must have been an experience that shook a part of her own identity.

I had mixed feelings myself. I felt, "Why, after so much effort?" and a sense of helplessness at not being able to absorb her frustration. Honestly, I have never challenged myself to that extent. I failed my university entrance exams, but since I hadn't studied much, the feeling of confirming that my number wasn't there was more like, "Well, of course it's not." I didn't cry over failing. I spent a year as a ronin and got into a slightly better school, but I only applied to universities I was guaranteed to pass, so I didn't feel the heart-pounding excitement on the day, nor did I have anyone I was excited to share the news of passing with.

The True Feelings That Emerged

Some time after the shock, when we were able to talk calmly, a surprising fact came to light. In reality, my daughter actually wanted to go to the private high school she had applied to as a backup.

She had been trying her hardest to meet my request to "go to a public school if possible," considering my financial situation as a parent. I felt a mix of gratitude and guilt seeing my daughter trying to live up to my expectations.

The Path to Recovery

For a few days after the announcement, I could occasionally hear sobbing from my daughter's room. Even as time passed, she didn't seem to have fully recovered. That is only natural. The disappointment of pouring so much time and passion into something that didn't lead to the desired result does not disappear easily.

Since it was clear she was depressed, I didn't do anything special. It's natural to be depressed right after the announcement, and our family is treating her as usual. Her younger brother is the same. I feel it is important to respect the natural flow of emotions rather than forcing her to accept the result with forced cheerfulness.

I heard that the cram school teacher not only called us to apologize but also spent about an hour on the phone with my daughter, who was sobbing. My daughter seemed to feel a little comforted by the teacher's words: 'The fact that you can cry this much because you're frustrated about failing is proof of how hard you've worked.' As a professional in entrance exams, unlike her school teachers, his words must have carried a lot of weight.

However, I believe she has the strength to bounce back on her own. She is a smart girl, so even if it takes a little time, I am sure she will be able to look forward again.

A few days later, I had the opportunity to sit down and talk with my daughter at the living room table. For the first time since she failed, we had a proper conversation while she was in a calmer state of mind. I shared information about private high schools that I had researched, including the fact that there are subsidies for private schools, so we don't have to worry too much about the money. I felt my daughter's eyes begin to brighten as I talked about the characteristics of these private schools. It was faint, but it was a sure sign of positivity.

What I learned as a parent

Through this experience, I learned many things.

The importance of listening to a child's true feelings. I realized once again the importance of understanding not just the superficial words, but the thoughts and emotions behind them.

I also felt the difficulty of how to handle a child's setback. I spent my days thinking about what was best, torn between the desire to encourage her and the desire to share in her sadness.

And above all, I learned the importance of trusting in a child's independence and growth. I believe that the process of recovering from such an experience will become a valuable lesson in her life.

A new step forward

During our discussion, my daughter's true feelings about private high schools gradually became clear. I couldn't help but smile when I heard her honest reasons, such as 'it seems like I can focus on my studies' and 'the uniforms are cute.' They were pure, innocent wishes typical of a 15-year-old girl.

My daughter, who I think is excellent even without parental bias, apparently didn't quite fit into the chaotic environment of her public junior high school. My heart ached a little when she confessed, 'I didn't really make any close friends.' On the other hand, she seemed to have found friends at the cram school who were working toward the same goal, and I finally understood why she had said so sadly, 'Does this mean I can't go to cram school anymore?' Because it was a place for study, bonds were formed with friends who shared a common goal. It seems the cram school teachers have been telling her things like, 'Why don't you work part-time at the cram school in the future?' and 'We should go out for a drink when you're old enough,' and my daughter looks a bit proud when she talks about those things.

To find an environment that suits my daughter, I looked into the private high school she will be attending. What I saw there was, unexpectedly, a school that suited my daughter's personality.

A quiet library and well-equipped study rooms, a school culture with many studious students, and above all, an open classroom atmosphere where 'you can ask questions immediately if you don't understand something.' An environment where she can study from early in the morning until late in the evening should be attractive to my daughter, who has a strong intellectual curiosity. Also, there is a wide variety of club activities, and she can look forward to meeting friends with whom she can work hard toward common goals.

I also found that there are national and prefectural subsidy systems for financial aspects, and the burden is less than I thought. The financial concerns, which were one of the reasons she had hoped for a public school, seem likely to be resolved to some extent.

Looking back, this setback may have opened the door to an environment that is better suited for my daughter. Effort is never wasted. Even if it is not rewarded in a visible way right now, what she acquired in the process will always remain within her. And perhaps it holds the potential to bloom in an unexpected place.

Conclusion

What I saw beyond my daughter's tears.

It was the simple yet profound truth of life that when one door closes, another opens.

My daughter, who spent days studying for 12 hours, did not achieve the goal she poured everything into. When I saw her sobbing, I was devastated by the feeling of helplessness as a parent, unable to solve anything. But now, what has emerged from that setback is a door to new possibilities that opened in an unexpected place.

Looking back, the fact that she was able to have such an intense experience while in junior high school might be an invaluable asset to her life. At her age, I only have memories of playing video games, and I only applied to high schools I could easily get into. I even respect my daughter as a parent for being able to experience giving her all toward a goal, sometimes facing setbacks, and shedding tears—all at such an early stage in life.

Sometimes life does not go according to the map we have drawn. In fact, those unexpected turns are often inevitable moments for us to encounter our true selves. The feeling that my daughter had lost sight of through her tears—that she actually wanted to go to a private school—was a truth she had to face. Perhaps by confronting that honest feeling, an environment better suited to her was waiting all along.

To parents and children who are going through similar experiences:

Setbacks are certainly painful. But there is a strength and awareness that can only be gained by passing through that pain. I hope you will suppress the urge to simply wipe away your child's tears and instead cherish the time spent standing by their emotions. And when things do not go according to plan, I hope you have the courage to draw a new map together.

And to the children:

Your efforts are never in vain. The days you spent giving your all toward a goal will surely remain within you as a solid strength, even if the results were not what you hoped for. Even if you cannot understand it now, there will surely come a moment in the future when this experience will support you in an unexpected place.

My daughter is now holding her new uniform, ready to take a new step forward. As the spring breeze blows, I want to watch over her as a parent, with quiet anticipation for what kind of flowers she will bloom.

Setbacks and rebirth, effort and growth, tears and smiles—I am grateful to be able to walk this long journey called life, which is colored by these experiences, together with my daughter.

P.S.:
She says she is going to eat a parfait with her friends from cram school today🍒
I am glad she seems to have recovered quite a bit🍀

P.S. 2:
I have written about what happened after that.