Every time I pass by the gate of the high school near my house on the day of the National High School Graduation Exam, seeing the anxious faces of the parents waiting for their children outside, I unconsciously slow down. Those familiar images awaken memories of my mother – the one who silently waited for me by the school gate years ago, showering me with love.
Back then, candidates had to go all the way to the university to take the exam; it wasn't combined with the high school graduation exam like it is now. Because the exam center was over a hundred kilometers from home, my mother and I had to take a bus there a day in advance and rent a room from a student from our hometown for convenience.
The room, with its low tiled roof and stifling heat in the summer, could barely fit a single bed, an old wooden desk, and a rickety electric fan. Yet, for my mother, that place was the most peaceful refuge for her daughter before the challenge of a major exam. Perhaps, for her, that exam was not just a test for her daughter, but also the unfulfilled dream of a woman who had spent her life working in the fields.
On the first day of the exam, my mother woke me up very early to review the material and have a hearty breakfast. I still remember her getting up at dawn to cook sticky rice with mung beans. According to her belief, eating sticky rice with mung beans would bring good luck and ensure everything went smoothly. The fragrant aroma of freshly cooked rice filled our small rented room, and I still remember it vividly. It wasn't just the smell of food, but also the smell of love, of the months and years my mother dedicated all her heart and soul to me.
Seeing that I seemed anxious, my mother told me some funny stories to make me laugh and forget some of the pressure weighing on my heart. Before I left the house, she adjusted my collar and said, "Just stay calm while doing your homework. Do the easy parts first, then the difficult ones. Calculate carefully, and present your work neatly."
Then my mother hugged me as if to give me strength and whispered, "Step with your right foot first, okay?" I smiled and obediently followed, feeling strangely at ease. Just having my mother by my side made the exam seem much less stressful.
The school gate was crowded with people. Parents were all rushing to give their children a few words of advice. Candidates like me were filled with a mix of emotions: nervousness, anxiety, and apprehension. In the hurried atmosphere, my mother took my hand and said, almost in tears, "Do your best, my child."
I said goodbye to my mother and walked through the school gate, heading towards the exam room with all my determination. When I turned around, I still saw my mother standing in the crowd, her small, thin figure under the harsh June sun, her eyes never leaving my back. In that moment, I suddenly understood that behind every child entering the exam room is a mother who has entrusted so much faith and hope to them.
When the bell rang signaling the end of the exam, we students rushed out like a swarm of bees, chattering excitedly about the test. Some were joyful, others gloomy. I hurried towards the gate. Amidst the unfamiliar faces, I recognized my mother immediately. Her eyes lit up when she saw me. The first thing she asked wasn't, "Did you do well, my child?" but, "Are you hungry? I made your favorite dish today." Seeing me respond cheerfully, not dejectedly like some of the other students, her face relaxed, and a gentle smile, like a cool breeze, spread across her face.
Only when my mother and I returned to our rented room to rest did she gently ask about my studies and recount the time she spent waiting outside the school gate. While I was taking my exams, she hurried home to cook dinner, then rushed back to the exam site to wait for me. In the sweltering summer heat, she held an old hand fan, fanning herself to cool down, and silently counted the hours and minutes that passed.
Seeing other parents pacing back and forth in front of the school gate, my mother was also restless. Only when she saw me come out with a cheerful face did she truly feel relieved, as if all the heat and fatigue of the long day had vanished. Looking at her at that moment, I felt both immense love and gratitude.
The exams finally came to an end. I was fortunate enough to be accepted into my first-choice university and the major I loved. That result became a beautiful milestone in my journey to adulthood. But after all, what remains most deeply etched in my memory isn't the score or the acceptance letter, but the image of my mother silently waiting by the school gate for three consecutive exam sessions, always watching over me and quietly cheering me on.
Now, as my children are about to enter their important school exams, I find myself waiting outside the school gates, just like my mother did years ago. Amidst the crowd of parents waiting for their children, I truly understand the feelings of a mother back then. When the gates close behind my children, my heart fills with nameless anxieties. Time seems to slow down. Just a few hours of waiting, yet a mother's heart experiences so much apprehension, worry, and anticipation.
I looked at the other fathers and mothers around me: some stood waiting in the sun, others sat huddled under trees, some carried lunch boxes, water bottles, and cold towels. All of them had a quiet demeanor, filled with so much love. They chose to stand behind their children so they could confidently move forward.
The gates of the examination hall not only open up the future for the younger generation, but also reveal countless emotions for parents. Inside those gates lie the dreams and future of their children. Outside, however, lies the silent waiting and unspoken love of parents – a lifelong love that never needs reciprocation, only hoping for their children's growth and well-being.
Source: https://giaoducthoidai.vn/tan-man-me-va-canh-cong-truong-thi-post780564.html
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