全塾留年生扶翼会
My Experience:
Two Gap Years and One Year Repeated
As a fundamental premise, I do not recommend enrolling in a Faculty of Letters if you have no interest in languages—or worse, if you dislike them.
I decided to apply to Keio University in the summer of my third year of high school, four years ago. At the time, I often skipped classes and was frequently late for first and second periods. Looking back, perhaps I already had the makings of a repeat student.
Back then, I was obsessed with YouTube, especially a group called “Ebisu-jap.” Not only were they good-looking and funny, but their refined upbringing showed through in subtle ways. When I found out they were graduates of Keio and Waseda, I felt utterly defeated as a Beta male. At the same time, I genuinely wanted to live a life like theirs.
However, as I mentioned earlier, I had a habit of slacking off, and I couldn’t fully commit to studying for entrance exams. In the end, after two gap years, I was admitted to the Faculty of Letters at Keio University.
That was the beginning of the nightmare.
At first, I was interested in everything—academics, clubs, part-time jobs—but as time passed, the gap between my ideals and reality crushed me. I realized after enrolling that I had no interest in literature whatsoever. Even the French I chose as my second language failed to ignite any passion.
Before and shortly after entering university (until around May), I believed that learning French—spoken by so many people—would broaden my future opportunities. But as the classes progressed, that hope faded. By the end of the spring semester, I was mostly attending classes late.
The same happened with clubs—I gradually stopped going. Looking back, I think I had placed too much hope in the university I had worked so hard to enter(2 year gaps!). When I realized that hope was hollow, I burned out completely.
From there, it was a straight descent into despair. I was late to almost every class in the fall semester as well. My classmates messaged me things like, “You’re going to fail the year if you keep being late. Seriously, this is bad.” But I had this inexplicable confidence that "I wouldn’t fail", so I didn’t listen.
Eventually, I even thought, “My test scores aren’t that bad, so maybe the professors will let me pass out of pity.”
Then came the day of the grade announcement. I was too afraid to check, thinking I might have failed the year. My Instagram feed was filled with posts from classmates saying things like, “I got into this major!” or “Barely made it through!” (In the Faculty of Letters, your major is determined based on your first-year grades.)
That only made me more anxious.
Several hours passed before I finally mustered the courage to check. The word “retained” was written there. The reality of having to repeat the year hit me all at once.
I agonized over how to tell my parents, who were paying my tuition, and my classmates who had moved on. About a month later, in early April, I finally told my parents.
Even my mother, who hadn’t been too shaken when I decided to take a second gap year, broke down in tears when I told her I had failed the year. It was then that I truly realized the gravity of what I had done.
My relationship with my parents is good now, but I still sometimes recall the look on my mother’s face that day—and it hurts.
I swore to myself that I would never make the same mistake again.