The current enthusiasm for "high school to university transition" courses is, at its core, an extension of the exam-oriented mindset.

As university admission offers are being issued across the country, a sales boom for preparatory training targeting incoming freshmen is underway.

Multiple institutions are heavily promoting their "transition" programs, using slogans like "avoid failing first-year courses," "mitigate the risk of dropping out," and "get a head start on securing a postgraduate recommendation" to attract students.

For students who have just shed the immense burden of the college entrance exams, this summer is a special time. After years of intense pressure, they finally have a chance to relax, breathe, travel, read for pleasure, meet with friends, or simply unwind. Yet, training institutions are eager to fill this period, presenting seemingly justifiable reasons: university courses are difficult, competition is fierce, and falling behind is inevitable without prior study.

These institutions have done their homework. They know that new students and their parents fear failing courses, struggling to keep up, and being eliminated. Consequently, their advertisements are filled with alarming statistics: "40% of freshmen struggle to adapt," "top universities have dropout rates exceeding 10%," "failure rates double for those who didn't prepare in advance." This rhetoric is designed to induce anxiety.

They also leverage the "peer gap" narrative: students entering with the same scores can end up worlds apart four years later, solely based on whether they enrolled in a summer course. This sales tactic is straightforward: first amplify fear, then offer the "cure."

While university study differs from high school, being more self-directed and requiring greater independence, and some initial confusion is perfectly normal, these institutions portray this typical adjustment period as a "crisis." They create an impression that not enrolling will lead to falling behind from the very first step.

Ultimately, this "transition course" frenzy stems from a persistent exam-focused mentality. From a young age, parents have grown accustomed to "buying peace of mind" through tutoring—if a child doesn't understand, get a tutor; if they fall behind, sign up for a class. At the university gates, although the rules change, the habit persists. What these institutions do is extend this inertia, repackaging the normal discomforts of a new growth phase into "problems that must be solved with money."

What's more noteworthy is that this anxiety-driven marketing succeeds because it precisely targets a knowledge gap: students know almost nothing about university life. After three years focused solely on test preparation, no one has taught them how university classes work, how to manage their time, or how to plan their academic path. Faced with the unknown, fear naturally arises, making the institutions' "solutions" appear attractive.

However, what this summer truly requires might not be "advance study," but rather a change of pace. Seeing the world, pursuing personal interests, and getting proper rest—these seemingly "useless" activities are often more beneficial for finding one's own rhythm than preemptively flipping through a calculus textbook.

Parents also need to loosen their grip slightly. A student's successful university admission demonstrates they possess fundamental learning capabilities. Adapting to a new environment is their own challenge to overcome; it cannot be outsourced to a prep course. Rather than spending money to buy anxiety, it is better to trust that they can navigate this transition themselves.

As for the institutions that manufacture panic and mislead with dubious data, regulatory oversight is warranted. Selling courses through "fear tactics" is not savvy marketing; it is deception.

The summer after the college entrance exams is filled with sunshine and ample time. It should not be packed with a rigid class schedule. Instead, it should be left for the prospective university students to ponder: What do I enjoy? Who do I want to become? The answers to these questions cannot be found in a cram school.