"How not to be nervous on exam day." "Ways to ease exam nerves." You probably got here by searching something like that. So let me start by being honest about the most important thing: you can't make the nerves disappear.

This isn't a story about giving up. I myself spent years trying to get my nerves to zero, in every big moment that mattered. I'd take deep breaths, tell myself to "calm down," and try every trick for not being nervous I could find. None of it worked. Now I understand why. The harder you try to kill the nerves, the more you panic at the self that can't kill them. The instant you think "I'm still shaking, this is bad," another layer — the tension of panic — stacks on top of the tension you already had. You freeze twice over. That's how I spun my wheels in so many exam rooms.

So in this column, I won't say a single word about making the nerves go away. Instead, I'll write only the procedures for performing anyway, assuming you'll be nervous. Preparation the night before, your routine in the final minutes, breathing techniques, how to settle your body, and how to recover when your mind goes blank mid-problem. Each item comes with one line on why it works, because a technique whose reason you don't understand is the first thing to evaporate under exam-day nerves. Whether it's a university entrance exam, the TOEIC, the Eiken, or any certification test, the body that faces the day is the same.

1. Why we get nervous — know it's not an "enemy" but a "device for bringing out your ability"

Before the procedures, let me lay down one foundation. It underpins everything that follows.

Nerves aren't abnormal. Your body has simply recognized "this is an important moment" and switched into game mode. Your heart rate rises, your hands shake a little, your thinking narrows onto what's in front of you — these are reactions readying you for the moment that counts.

And generally, zero nerves isn't the best state. A state of mild tension tends to sharpen focus and reaction more than being so relaxed you're sleepy. The trouble is only when it comes out too much. Too much, and you tip into hands shaking so you can't write, a mind that won't turn. So the relationship between nerves and ability is best pictured as a hill: too low is bad, too high is bad, and somewhere in the middle is best. (This is just a rough analogy, not a medically precise claim.)

So what you're aiming for isn't "zero nerves." It's "don't let too much out; use what does come out."

→ Why it works: If you treat nerves as an enemy, you burn yourself out fighting them. Straining to "get rid of this" itself generates new tension. But if you see them as a device for bringing out your ability, you can coexist instead of fighting. The very same pounding heart plays out completely differently depending on whether you feel "an intruder has come" or "this is the signal that I'm ready." This reframe is the foundation for every procedure I'm about to write.

2. The night before: lower your total nerves the day before, not on the day

People tend to think nerve management is only for the day itself. But really, it's more effective to reduce the "fuel" for nerves the day before. Making it harder for nerves to rise is far easier than bringing them down once they're up.

  1. Lock down your belongings and your plan the night before. Every piece of uncertainty on the day adds one piece of fuel for your nerves. Small uncertainties — "did I pack that?" "which train is it?" — rattle your mind most before the exam. Decide it all and lock it in the night before. → Why it works: Nerves grow out of "I don't know how this will go." The more that's already decided, the less unknown there is, and the less fuel your nerves have. Just by moving what you'd think about on the day to the night before, the version of you on the day only has to trace the line you drew. (If you want to work the day's logistics out in detail, I've written a separate "exam-day checklist" column for that. Here, just hold on to the single point that closing off uncertainty lowers nerves.)

  2. Rehearse the "nervous you" of the real thing, once, the night before. Arrive at the venue, sit down, open the paper, and reach for the first question while nervous — walk through that flow once in your head. The trick is to imagine the nervous version of you, as-is, not the version where everything goes perfectly. → Why it works: People are most nervous in situations they're facing for the first time. Walk through it once in your head and the real thing becomes a "second time" for your brain. Because the first-time turns into the already-known, the peak of your nerves on the day drops. Imagining a calm self only widens the gap with reality and makes you panic more, so deliberately imagine yourself nervous and all.

  3. Move your body once the day before — raise it, then bring it down. A walk, light exercise, or a slightly longer bath than usual. Bring your body up a little, then let it settle all the way back down. → Why it works: Having experienced your body "going up and then coming down" once, the swing on the day feels smaller. When the nerves of the real thing hit a totally flat body out of nowhere, the swing is large; but if you do a small dry run the day before, the swing on the day feels gentler. (The effects of exercise and bathing are general; they're not guaranteed to work for everyone. Go easy, to suit your own condition.)

  4. Hold this in advance: "Even if you can't sleep, just lying down helps." The night before, nerves can keep you awake. What's scariest then isn't the not-sleeping itself, but the second-order anxiety of "I can't sleep, will I be okay tomorrow?" So know in advance that simply lying down with your eyes closed rests your body quite a lot. → Why it works: The pressure of "I have to sleep" actually amplifies your nerves and pushes sleep further away. But if you know from the start that "worst case, lying down still gives me a minimum of rest," the second-order anxiety of a sleepless night disappears. And once the anxiety is gone, you tend to fall asleep more easily as a result. (This is written in general terms. If sleeplessness keeps up and it's hard on you, don't push yourself — take care of your body.)

3. The final-minutes routine: a "fixed set of motions" you start 10 minutes before

People who are strong on exam day aren't doing anything special in the final minutes. If anything, the opposite — they do exactly the same thing every single time. The final minutes aren't a time to do new things; they're a time to trace the motions you've decided on.

  1. Decide a "fixed set of motions" and repeat it the same way every time. For example — take your seat → lay out your pens in the same arrangement every time → three slow deep breaths → decide which question you'll solve first. Keep the order and the content identical every time, so your body moves without thinking. → Why it works: A routine runs on autopilot even when nerves stop your head from turning. Because you don't have to think about "what's next," you free up capacity that would otherwise go to your nerves. Reduce the amount you have to decide during the exam, and that reduction comes back to you as breathing room.

  2. In the final minutes, don't look at new material. Don't get pulled into answer-checking chatter, either. Memorizing something new in the scrap of time before the start contributes almost nothing to your score. What's left is only the anxiety of "I don't know that either." Even when people around you start asking "how did that formula go again," don't join in. → Why it works: Last-minute new information doesn't connect to points; it only raises anxiety. Physically cut off the inputs that raise your nerves before the start. Treat your fixed set of motions like earplugs and concentrate on them, letting no outside information in. This alone takes a lot of the pre-start jitter away.

  3. Name it out loud: "I'm nervous." In your head, or in a small murmur, acknowledge once: "Ah, I'm really nervous right now." Don't try to hide it, don't try to erase it. Just acknowledge it. → Why it works: Strangely, emotions become easier to handle once you give them a name and label them. Acknowledging "I'm nervous" calms you down more than trying to suppress it does. This is a way of using Chapter 1's "nerves aren't the enemy" on the spot, in a single phrase. (This too is general, and there's individual variation.)

4. Breathing techniques: the fastest-acting way to lower nerves from the body

This is probably the section people reach most through search. "Overcoming stage fright." "Ways to ease exam nerves." As the answer, I put breathing first. The reason is simple: breathing is the only fast-acting tool you can use during the exam itself — seated at your desk, without anyone noticing. Let me write it concretely, with numbers.

  1. Make the exhale longer than the inhale. Breathe in for 4 seconds, breathe out over 6–8 seconds. Three to five times. Breathe in normally, and breathe out as slowly and as long as you can. Feel your belly drawing in, and exhale all the way to the end. → Why it works: Generally, a long exhale tends to switch the body toward "it's okay to calm down." Nerves make your breathing shallow and fast, so just consciously reversing it — back to deep and slow — flips the body's switch more easily. (This isn't a promise that your nerves will definitely vanish, nor a medically rigorous explanation of the autonomic nervous system. Treat it as a general way to settle yourself.)

  2. Raise your shoulders hard once, then drop them with a thud as you exhale. Lift both shoulders almost up to your ears, hold for a few seconds. Then, as you breathe out, release all at once and let them drop. Once or twice is enough. → Why it works: Nerves pool in the shoulders and neck. Without noticing, your shoulders rise and stiffen. Deliberately tensing once and then releasing creates a clear sensation of "released." Told to "relax" out of nowhere you can't, but tense-then-release, you can.

  3. Open and close your palms a few times. Under the desk where it won't show, slowly make a fist, open, fist, open. → Why it works: Trembling hands start from the extremities. Move those extremities by your own will, and the sense of "I can move my own body" comes back. Instead of being ruled by the shaking, you move into the position of acting on your body from your side. This alone brings a little control back to your hands.

Note: If your breathing turns shallow and fast and you feel short of breath (a hyperventilating tendency), don't force the deep breathing. Return to normal breathing first, and resume once you've settled. What's written here is, again, a general way to settle your body.

5. Settling your body: it's faster to break nerves from the "body," not the "mind"

This continues the breathing section. With nerve management we tend to think in the direction of "calm the mind," but trying to calm the mind with the mind usually goes in circles. The more you chant "calm down," the more the not-calm self bothers you. So I go in from the body. The body listens more obediently than the mind does.

  1. Plant the soles of your feet firmly on the floor and feel their weight (grounding). Sitting in your chair, place both soles flat on the floor and feel your weight resting there. Lower your awareness from your head down toward your feet. → Why it works: When you're nervous, all your awareness rises into your head, and your thoughts run wild in circles. Lower your awareness to your feet, and the attention that gathered in your head disperses, so the spinning of thought is easier to stop. The point is shifting attention from "thinking" to "sensation."

  2. Fix your posture, once. Straighten your back, open your chest a little. Take the hunched body and make it upright again. → Why it works: A hunched posture is said to work, in itself, toward strengthening anxiety. Conversely, open the body and breathing comes more easily; deepen the breathing and it connects to calm. The mind gets pulled along by posture. (This too is general.)

  3. Release the tension in your mouth and jaw. Check whether you're unconsciously clenching your teeth, and release your back teeth. If your tongue is pressed flat against the roof of your mouth, loosen it too. → Why it works: Clenching is an easy-to-read sign of nerves. And the body is connected. Release the tension at the single point of the jaw, and the neck, shoulders, and whole body follow and release more easily. Picture it as closing one of the "entrances" of nerves.

Trying to do something about the mind with the mind means going round and round a room with no exit. But the body you can move concretely — plant your feet, fix your posture, loosen your jaw. That's why I always go in from the body.

6. Recovering mid-problem: the procedure for the moment your mind goes blank from nerves

This is the part I most wanted to write in this column. Even with preparation the night before and in the final minutes, your mind can go blank mid-problem. You can't read the question, you can't remember anything, only your heart is loud — in that moment, what do you do? Have a procedure for recovering from panic ready in advance.

  1. When you go blank, first put your pen down once and do one set of breathing. The harder you try to keep solving in a panic, the more your field of view narrows. So stop your hands once. Put the pen down and do one round of the earlier "in for 4, out for 6–8." Just 5 to 10 seconds. → Why it works: Tear ahead while panicking and the tunnel vision deepens and deepens, until even the hints you should be able to see vanish. Stopping for five seconds is, in the end, faster. Stopping isn't wasted time; it's the brake that halts the runaway.

  2. Go back to one question you can solve, and deliberately take a sure success. Step away from the question you're stuck on and solve one question you know you can definitely do. Easy is fine. Just get one circle, no matter what. → Why it works: Solve one question and the feeling of "I am moving properly" comes back, and your nerves physically drop. This is the same as the "final-minutes routine" in Chapter 3 — doing what you can to put yourself back together. Chase the first success by certainty, not by difficulty.

  3. Mark the questions you don't know and skip them. Stay frozen, grinding on one question, and you lose both time and composure. If you think for 30 seconds to a minute and don't see the path, put a mark (a triangle, say) by the number and move on. You can come back later. → Why it works: Fixating on one question robs you of both nerves and time. Skipping isn't running away; it's a step forward to get back on your feet. A head frozen by a hard question goes on to drop even the easy ones afterward. By letting go, your head starts turning again.

  4. For just one second, reframe it: "This nervousness is the sign that my ability is coming out." Say one line in your head: "I'm nervous = I'm in game mode = I'm properly ready." One second is enough. → Why it works: This is a way of using Chapter 1's "nerves aren't an enemy but a device" on the spot. Just inserting one line that doesn't see nerves as the enemy loosens the panic at your own frozen self a little. You take the same pounding heart and receive it again — not as an intruder, but as a signal.

7. Food and condition on the day — I won't go deep, but the root idea, just once

About food on the day, I won't get into detailed menu theory here. What you should eat is something I plan to write in a separate food column. So here I just want to write, once, the idea that sits before all that. It's an idea that touches the root of nerve management.

What I believe is this: you don't have to decide the day's food by "correct nutrition" alone. If something you love lifts your mood, you're allowed to prioritize the mood.

For instance, it's often said that tonkatsu — a deep-fried pork cutlet — is heavy to digest. Not suited to before the real thing, they say. But if you love tonkatsu, and eating it lifts your mood into "right, let's do this" — then choosing to eat it anyway is, I think, a valid option. Beyond whether it's good for the body, I weigh whether it settles the heart just as heavily. Because in a nervous real-thing, whether your mood is riding high can matter as much as ease of digestion — or even more.

Why place this story, of all things, in a column about nerves? Because the root of my thinking, which runs through this whole column, is right here. Nerve management isn't only about disciplining the body. Tending to the mood of your heart is, just as much, a condition for bringing out your ability. Settling your breathing, loosening your body, and eating what you love to lift your mood — they're all on one single line of "tending both body and heart toward the real thing." Either one alone isn't enough. In the end, you decide by the balance of body and heart. (The food and condition story is general; it isn't medical advice. Constitution and condition vary from person to person, so consult your own body.)

8. What not to do — three things that backfire in nerve management

Finally, let me sum up, in the negative, three things that backfire when you do them with the best intentions. Think of this as a chapter that confirms the points so far from the reverse side.

  1. Trying to make the nerves disappear completely. → Why it backfires: It's exactly as I wrote at the start. Nerves can't be erased. The harder you try, the more you panic at the self that can't erase them, and panic stacks on top of nerves and you freeze twice over. What you aim for isn't zero, but not letting too much out, and using what does come out.

  2. Cramming until the last second. Checking answers with the people around you. → Why it backfires: Last-minute new information barely connects to points and only raises the anxiety of "I don't know that either." Answer-checking with others is the same — even if you realize a mistake you can't take it back, and only the anxiety gets carried into the exam. In the final minutes, cutting off inputs is the right answer.

  3. Issuing yourself a ban: "I must not be nervous." → Why it backfires: People's attention turns toward whatever they're forbidden. The more you chant "don't be nervous," the more the nerves sit dead center in your head. Acknowledging and coexisting calms you down more, in the end, than forbidding does. Accept it: "I'm nervous, okay, this is the usual."

9. Closing: assume you'll be nervous, and put out everything anyway

Nerves aren't an enemy to be erased. They're more like a companion that always comes along to the real thing. And in my experience — the instant you stop trying to erase them is when the most ability comes out.

While you're fighting "I have to not be nervous," the energy that should go toward the exam gets spent on the fight with your nerves. But the instant you decide "it's okay to be nervous, and I'll solve it anyway," all of that energy turns toward the problem in front of you. I only became able to bring out my real ability in the real thing after I stopped trying to erase my nerves.

This site has "passing" in its name. I hope, from the bottom of my heart, that the version of you who stands at the real thing — nerves and all — gets to put out everything you've got.

Last of all, just one move to take home today: right now, right here, do just one set of breathing. Breathe in for 4 seconds, breathe out slowly over 6–8 seconds. Just once. That alone is enough. Nerve management doesn't work from knowing alone. Do it with your body even once, and at the desk on the day your hand will move with an "ah, this is the thing." Today's one set will help the version of you at the real thing, just a little.