Why the Top Scorer Kept Failing

My mother's eyes were bloodshot as she suddenly dropped to her knees in front of the Crestwood University admissions officer.

She trembled as she begged, "Please, sir, I'm begging you! Let my daughter go to university. We'll figure out the money—whatever it takes!"

The admissions officer didn't even flinch.

My mother threw herself to the floor, scraping her forehead, and grabbed his pant leg.

Her cries choked her words as she sobbed, "Please, sir, she can't miss this chance. My husband and I have worked ourselves to the bone, and our greatest wish is to give our daughter a better life. Don't let her suffer like we did. Please have mercy!"

My father dropped to his knees as well.

His back was bent with age and labor. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and offered one to the admissions officer with trembling hands.

"Sir, I may not be educated, but my daughter is the top student. She has to go to university! If she doesn't, her whole future will be ruined. Please, I'm begging you to help us."

To support my education, my father had always smoked the cheapest cigarettes he could find.

Seeing my parents, who had never lowered themselves before anyone, humiliate themselves like this for me made my chest ache. They were just factory workers, but no matter how hard life had been, they had never been humiliated like this.

They said a man's children were his treasure, and here was my father on his knees, pleading for my future. It was all for nothing.

The admissions officer didn't soften in the slightest. He repeated coldly, "You're wasting your time. We're not accepting Chloe."

My father thought it was because he hadn't shown enough sincerity. He grabbed the man's sleeve, begged, and even pressed his forehead to the floor in desperation.

Still, the admissions officer wouldn't budge. "Enough with these theatrics. It won't work. No matter what you do, we won't take a student like Chloe."

His tone left no room for negotiation.

No matter how desperately my parents begged, he didn't respond.

After the admissions officer left, Crestwood University rejected my application.

I was stunned. I racked my brain, trying to find the reason.

What did they mean by "a student like me"? Had I done something wrong?

But in my memory, I had no blemishes. I had always been an exemplary student—the kind other parents pointed to as a model child.

Seeing my despair, my parents gathered around me.

My father patted my head.

"Chloe, it's okay. If this school won't take you, we'll pick another. There are plenty of universities out there. One of them will want you."

My mother dabbed at my tears. "You're a top student. No matter what, we'll make sure you get into a school. We won't give up on you."

After three rejections, my parents had visibly aged.

The first time I didn't get in, they paid for a year of tutoring. They told me not to worry and said they'd always be behind me.

The second time, they hired a private tutor, working multiple jobs to cover the costs.

They had always given me everything without expecting anything in return. Everything I achieved on the SAT was because of their sacrifices. And yet, even after all that effort, my third attempt didn't go as planned.

At that moment, I felt overwhelming guilt toward them.

I looked at their aged faces and calloused hands and whispered through tears, "Mom, Dad, I'm sorry. It's my fault. I've disappointed you again. I'm just a burden, holding you back."

Of course, they didn't blame me. They just told me not to overthink it.

That night, I lay in bed, restless, turning everything over in my mind.

Crestwood University had rejected me, so now I could only hope my next choice would accept me.

The first two times I'd taken the SAT, I'd been confident enough to apply only to top schools, so I hadn't listed any others—and both had rejected me.

This time, I was cautious.

Even though my score would have easily gotten me into Crestwood University, I applied to other decent schools just in case. I even listed some safety schools, afraid that if the top schools rejected me again, I'd have nothing.

If the top-tier schools didn't want me, maybe a mid-tier one would. After all, I was still the top student.

And finally, hope arrived.

When the mid-tier university began admitting students, my name appeared on the preliminary acceptance list. They had heard about me—the top scorer with a 1590 SAT—and the next day, a delegation came to my house with banners and fanfare to welcome me.

My parents and I looked at the crowd at the door, and for the first time in weeks, smiles returned to our faces.

The school officials hurried to greet my parents warmly.

"It's an honor to have the state's top student choose our school! You two raised a remarkable child. You can rest assured. Chloe will be treated like someone very special here."

My parents' eyes lit up. My mother held my hand tightly, saying I had finally come out of hardship. My father straightened his back with pride.

Everyone was in high spirits.

The lead administrator presented the pre-prepared acceptance letter and asked to take a photo with us.

With a smile, he opened the envelope. "Chloe, after review, you are accepted to—"

And then he froze mid-sentence.