Had a Student Like This
When Takanashi Kenta returned to the faculty office after finishing his first-period class, he found Tanaka-sensei sitting there with a deeply furrowed brow.
"What's wrong, Tanaka-sensei?" Takanashi asked curiously. "Weren't you just giving a quiz to Class B? How did it go?"
Tanaka-sensei glanced up at him, his gaze dazed, as though he had just witnessed something unspeakable—his rational mind seemed momentarily offline.
That only made Takanashi more puzzled. He pressed, "How did Kiryu-kun do?"
"He..." Tanaka pushed up his reading glasses. He was nearing retirement and was the school's most senior teacher. "He used calculus to solve one of my problems."
In his previous life, Kazuma's high school math had included many fragmented calculus concepts scattered across different problem-solving techniques, though not formally organized.
On top of that, he had completed university and properly studied two years of advanced mathematics.
So when he spotted a problem where higher math could be applied, he instinctively used it.
Math was a bit like riding a bike—once you truly understood it, it was hard to forget. Even if the details slipped your mind, a little thought would bring them back quickly.
Though Takanashi was an English teacher, they all shared the same office. His desk was next to Tanaka-sensei's, so he had picked up a bit of math knowledge through osmosis. Hearing this now, he was startled.
Though Japan hadn't yet adopted "relaxed education" in 1980, there were still many topics not covered in standard classroom teaching.
This was due to Japan's unique entrance exam system.
From high school onward, each school created its own exam questions, and this approach extended into university admissions as well.
Students had to prepare for very different content depending on which school and major they aimed for.
For example, the entrance exams for law faculties at the University of Tokyo and Waseda University differed greatly.
Keio University, another prestigious private school, even required students applying to the Faculty of Policy Management to write policy essays on the spot.
So even in 1980, before relaxed education took hold, most Japanese high schools only taught the material necessary to graduate.
The biggest change under relaxed education was that many schools later lowered the passing score to just 30%.
Another key difference was that in 1980, once a student declared their university goals, teachers would personally tailor their instruction, and "cram schools" focused on entrance exams would organize national mock tests for seniors—offering targeted coaching. In the relaxed education era, only paid cram schools provided this, not regular schools.
Thankfully, it wasn't that era yet. If it were, Kazuma wouldn't have had the money for cram school, and aiming for the University of Tokyo would have been a pipe dream.
In short, the calculus Kazuma used on this quiz wasn't something Tanaka-sensei had ever taught.
"Where did he learn this stuff?" Tanaka asked Takanashi, bewildered.
Takanashi spread his hands. "Cram school, I guess? Only a cram school would teach that. He couldn't have taught himself, right?"
In truth, it came from memories of a past life—but no one would imagine that.
"So he's really serious about applying to the University of Tokyo, huh?" Tanaka scratched his thinning scalp—at his age, he had only a few tufts of hair left.
"But isn't his family's financial situation a bit tight? How's he paying for cram school?" Tanaka looked at Takanashi.
Takanashi spread his hands again. "Maybe he has a relative at Todai? Or... maybe a social worker from the ward office is helping him?"
At this time, Japan was starting to adopt Western-style social work systems, though they weren't very effective yet—certainly not enough to address the growing homeless problem.
Tanaka made no comment and looked back down at the quiz papers.
"So... what score did he get?" Takanashi asked.
"Ninety-eight. Top score this time," Tanaka replied. "I wrote the questions with Todai's entrance exam in mind, so even students with high deviation scores missed quite a few."
Takanashi's eyes widened. "Wait... Kiryu-kun got ninety-eight? That's incredible!"
"Exactly why I'm thinking—he's genuinely preparing for Todai." Tanaka chuckled. "Come to think of it, that's a good thing. Even if he doesn't get into Todai, having a student make it into a good private university would still be great for the school's reputation."
He pulled out the thickest book from the shelf in front of him. "I'll put together a list of reference books he can use for Todai prep."
Takanashi suddenly realized, "Good idea! I'll go look up past English entrance exams for Todai."
"Let's do it, then!"
Just as Tanaka finished speaking, another teacher entered with textbooks in hand. Hearing their conversation, the new arrival asked, puzzled, "Do what?"
"Oh, Kiryu-kun from Class B. Looks like he really wants to apply to Todai. He even used calculus just now," Tanaka explained.
"No way!" The teacher looked shocked. "You mean that Kiryu?"
Takanashi gave a wry smile. "Yeah. The one who corrected my pronunciation yesterday."
"For real? His class rank isn't that high. Does he really have a shot?"
"There's hope," Tanaka replied without looking up, still jotting down books for Kazuma. "But how much hope depends on the national mock exams after Golden Week. For now, I think we should encourage him and see how the rankings turn out before advising on which schools to apply to."
The new teacher said admiringly, "That's great. It's been years since our school had a student apply to Todai."
Since Japan's national universities held their entrance exams on the same day, applicants had to commit from the start—there was no fallback option. So students tended to choose the schools where they had the best chance.
Even at a top feeder school like Kitakatsushi High, it wasn't unusual to go years without a Todai applicant.
As the three teachers chatted, Class B's homeroom teacher, Tachibana-sensei, entered. Tanaka called to him right away, "Tachibana-sensei! You haven't rejected Kiryu Kazuma's career survey form yet, right?"
"Not yet. I was going to borrow the guidance room today and have a talk with him. Why? Did he cause trouble?"
"No, no! We think he's actually serious about applying—and he might have a shot."
Tachibana's jaw dropped. "Really?"
"Really! Look—this was today's in-class quiz. He scored the highest—ten points above the next student."
Tachibana hurried over and took the papers from Tanaka.
One was Kiryu Kazuma's: 98 points. The other was Yamada Yōichi's: 88 points.
Tachibana was silent for a long while before finally looking up. "So... should I change my approach and support him?"
"For now, yes. Let's see how far he can go by the final exams. After all, applications won't be finalized until next year," Tanaka advised.
Tachibana nodded. "Alright. Let's do that."
"Oh, and here's the reference book list I wrote up for him—for math. You can give it to him when you meet," Tanaka said, handing over a sheet of paper with six or seven titles.
"Wait for me!" Takanashi called. "I'll make one too."
Just then, Nakajō-sensei, the Japanese literature teacher, came in and saw the commotion. "What are you all discussing so enthusiastically?"
Once again, Tanaka took on the role of explainer.
After listening, Nakajō clapped his hands. "Wonderful! I'll make a list too. Honestly, it's been so long since we've had a student seriously aiming for Todai. Really, so long."
(End of Chapter)