申請(qǐng)季中，文書質(zhì)量的好壞直接影響學(xué)校是否會(huì)錄取你！因?yàn)椤?/P>
如果你的“軟硬實(shí)力”都不錯(cuò)，不能高興的太早，不走心的文書可能會(huì)讓優(yōu)勢(shì)變劣勢(shì)！
如果你申請(qǐng)條件不理想，也不用太擔(dān)心，一篇優(yōu)秀的文書很可能讓你逆襲！
可見，文書對(duì)于申請(qǐng)可謂至關(guān)重要！
然而，雖然大家都知道文書很重要，但每年仍有很多學(xué)生表示：寫文書真太頭禿，到底沒有一招制勝的“文書秘籍”？
對(duì)此，小編認(rèn)為，與其在網(wǎng)絡(luò)中搜尋真假難辨的“文書攻略”，不如先看看官方披露的權(quán)威范例！
哈佛大學(xué)的官方校報(bào)The Crimson曾公布了「2020年度10篇成功申請(qǐng)哈佛大學(xué)的文書」。
來源：
https://www.thecrimson.com/topic/sponsored-successful-harvard-essays-2020/
這10篇文書均為哈佛官方公認(rèn)的優(yōu)秀范例，是經(jīng)過招生官的“火眼金睛”，層層選拔出來的“壓卷之作”！
接下來，小編將為大家?guī)砥渲?篇優(yōu)秀文書的全文及官方的犀利點(diǎn)評(píng)。
同時(shí)，為了方便大家參閱，貼心的小編還將「2018-2020年哈佛大學(xué)精選文書」整理為了PDF禮包，記得在文末領(lǐng)取哦~
哈佛大學(xué)2020年優(yōu)秀文書精選
01
I think the most tragic part of my childhood originated from my sheer inability to find anything engraved with my name. I never had a CHAFFEE license plate on my hand-me-down red Schwinn. No one ever gave me a key chain or coffee mug with the beautiful loops of those double Fs and Es. Alas, I was destined to search through the names; longingly staring at the space between CHAD and CHARLOTTE hoping one day a miracle would occur. Fortunately, this is one of the few negative aspects of a name like “Chaffee Duckers.”
My name has always been an integral part of my identity. Sure, it sounds a bit like my parents created it from a bag of Scrabble tiles, but it comes from a long-lost ancestor, Comfort Chaffee. Now it’s all mine. In my opinion, a name can make or break a person. The ability to embody a name depends on the individual. My greatest goal in life is to be the kind of unique person deserving of a name so utterly random and absurd.
I began my journey in preschool. Nothing about me screamed normal. I was not prim, proper, and poised. I preferred sneaking away from my preschool classroom, barefoot, in the purple velvet dress I wore every single day to resting obediently during nap time.
I grew up in a family akin to a modified Brady Bunch. Stepsisters, half sisters, stepbrothers, and stepparents joined my previously miniscule household. But in a family of plain names like Chris, Bill, John, Liz, Katherine, and Mark, I was still the only Chaffee.
I was a bit of a reverse black sheep in my family. My name helped me carve an identity separate from my myriad of siblings. Instead of enriching my brain with Grand Theft Auto, I preferred begging my parents to take me to the bookstore.
While my parents mandated homework time for my brothers, they never questioned my work ethic or wiretapped my assignment notebook. The thing that set me apart from the herd was that I was self-disciplined enough to take control of my own life. From the very beginning I never depended on my parents’ help or motivation to finish my schoolwork. Putting school first came naturally to me, much to the distaste and confusion of my siblings. My work ethic became known as the patented “Chaffee Method.”
As I got older, I began to embody my name more and more. I didn’t want to be that girl with the weird name in the back of the class eating her hair, so I learned how to project my ideas in both written and spoken forms. I was often picked to lead classroom discussions and my complete disregard for making a fool of myself bolstered that skill. The manner in which I operate academically is perfectly described as Chaffee-esque; including but not limited to elaborate study songs, complex pneumonic devices, study forts, and the occasional John C. Calhoun costume.
I take pride in the confusion on a person’s face when they first read my name. Seeing someone struggle over those two unfamiliar syllables fills me with glee. I feel as though I am adding a new word to their vocabulary. So on my last day as a page in the U.S. Senate, I prepared myself for the anticipated awkward stumbling as Senator Harry Reid thanked me by name in his closing address. But the stumble never came. I felt very humbled by his perfect pronunciation. Perhaps Chaffee is actually catching on!
文書點(diǎn)評(píng)
這是一篇非常具有說服力的文章。CHAFFEE擁有一個(gè)非常特別的“名字”，她在文書中清晰地?cái)⑹隽岁P(guān)于自己“名字”的故事。
毋庸置疑，將個(gè)人生活中獨(dú)一無二的經(jīng)歷寫進(jìn)文書，對(duì)申請(qǐng)任何大學(xué)來說都是非常聰明的選擇。
CHAFFEE巧妙地通過“名字”塑造了自己的成長(zhǎng)歷程，詳細(xì)地闡述了自己與其他人的不同之處，充分證明了“名字”在她一生中的重要性。
02
I am standing behind my high school when a snowball pelts my side with a thud and splatters across my jacket, covering me with a fine, icy dust. My bewildered eyes trace the snowball’s trajectory until they fall upon a pair of snickering hoodlums crouched behind a small mountain of snowballs. They must have been waiting all afternoon for an unsuspecting student to walk by, and perhaps for emphasis, one of the boys looks me in the eye and raises a grimy middle finger. Quickly, I mold a handful of snow into a sphere with cupped hands and cock my arm back.
I haven’t thrown anything in a while, but muscle memory guides me through the requisite motions. I played softball for eight years, and my athletic strength was always my throwing arm; in fifth grade, when my coach asked me to throw the ball from third to first, I hurled the ball with such force that the catch knocked him off-balance. Upon entering high school, it seemed natural that I would play on the school’s softball team.
However, my body had other ideas. Throughout middle school I’d developed increasingly painful body aches, and in freshman year I awoke one morning with a brutal headache penetrating the crown of my head and the bones of my face as though a vice had been clamped to my skull overnight. After consulting more doctors than I can remember, I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia.
Fibromyalgia is characterized by chronic widespread pain and extreme sensitivity to touch. My neurologist describes fibromyalgia as “headache of the body.” Personally, I favor my father’s description; after one particularly painful and exhausting day he aptly proclaimed, “Fibromyalgia is your body’s way of giving you the finger.”
Agonizing muscle cramps mocked me constantly, preventing me from walking longer than five minutes without growing exhausted. The pressure above my eyes sneered at me whenever I attempted to read or write. Even after I found medications to temper the headaches just enough so I could return to school with sporadic attendance, sharp pains gnawed at my body with haughty derision if I even thought about returning to the softball fields and the activities I loved.
For months I tried to ignore the cruel obscenities fibromyalgia hurled my way, steadfastly believing the pain would soon subside and I would achieve everything I had planned for myself if I simply disregarded the taunting aches and worked doggedly to catch up at school. But when softball season arrived, it became apparent that while determination and intelligence could preserve my GPA in the face of fibromyalgia, there was no personal attribute or skill that could heal my body and allow me to join my teammates on the field.
It was time to confront the beast.
In doing so, I kept in mind the schoolyard aphorism that there is strength in numbers. I did not face fibromyalgia alone, but with mathematics by my side. Baseball is a game of statistics, and if fibromyalgia threatened to steal the sport I loved through physical deterioration, I would outsmart this insolent illness and reclaim ownership of baseball through intellectual pursuits. I began a mathematical research project, analyzing the effectiveness of current baseball statistics, as well as deriving my own.
Fibromyalgia forced me to redefine my goals and personal standards for success. This baseball project was my first step toward reclaiming my life and laying the foundation for victory over my illness. As calculations replaced pitching drills, my passion for baseball was channeled into a burgeoning love of science and math. Hours I had previously devoted to softball became filled with scientific journals and books, and summers I used to spend at athletic camps were devoted to research at local universities. Baseball provided a link to my pre-fibromyalgia life at a time when I desperately needed one, and through baseball I realized that if I wanted to beat fibromyalgia, I could not simply hope it would disappear overnight. Whether I modified my medications or adapted my schedule, I needed to devise my own way to face fibromyalgia’s antagonizing aches head-on.
So when that taunting rascal waves his middle finger in my direction, my cheeks do not flush with angry humiliation and my legs do not run away, but my hands mold a snowball and my arm pulls back. As I follow through with my throw, pain radiating up my arm, I know instantly that I will pay for this exertion in the morning. But my icy comeback hits the sniggering boy squarely in the chest, knocking him backward into the snow as his accomplice’s mouth lies agape in shock.
Well. I guess I’ve still got it.
文書點(diǎn)評(píng)
整個(gè)故事首尾呼應(yīng)，非常完整。
學(xué)生以“打雪仗”的經(jīng)歷開篇，巧妙地將這個(gè)故事與自己的體育天賦聯(lián)系起來，接著又講述了自己與病痛斗爭(zhēng)的過程，以及在面對(duì)身體限制時(shí)，她如何將自己的熱情轉(zhuǎn)向科學(xué)和數(shù)學(xué)。
這篇文章涵蓋了很多有價(jià)值的內(nèi)容，包括她克服困難的經(jīng)歷、發(fā)現(xiàn)學(xué)術(shù)激情的過程、以及她擁有的個(gè)人成就，使招生官看到了她獨(dú)特的性格和奮斗精神。
雖然文章很長(zhǎng)，但通篇沒有一個(gè)字是“無用”的。她不僅通過詳細(xì)的感官描述令讀者身臨其境，還在文字中編織了很多幽默以及“厚臉皮”的態(tài)度，豐富多彩的語言令她活潑堅(jiān)韌的個(gè)性熠熠生輝。
03
A light breeze caressing the cornfield makes it look like a gentle swaying sea of gold under the ginger sun of late summer. A child’s chime-like laughter echoes. As I rush through the cornfield, I hear the rustling of leaves and the murmur of life hidden among the stems that tower over me.
I remember the joy of the day when I solved one of my first difficult combinatorics problems at my parents’ house in the countryside. I felt so exhilarated that I ran outside and into the cornfield. As I was passing row after row of stems, I realized the cornfield was actually a giant matrix with thousands of combinations of possible pathways, just like the combinatorics problem I had just solved. I looked at the sky and I thought about the great mathematicians of the past that contributed so much to this field and about how I have added yet another dimension to my matrix. Suddenly, mathematics appeared to me as a 3D live map where staggering arrays of ideas connect each other by steady flows of sheer wisdom.
Suddenly a loud laughter from the next room wakes me up from my reverie. I am back in my room in the drab dormitory where I lived since I was fifteen. The dim sunset barely lightens up my room, while the cold November wind rushes from the broken-and-mended-with-tape window on the hallway, whistling beneath my door. My roommates haven’t returned yet, and I feel alone and isolated.
In moments such as these I always take out the ultimate weapon against gloominess: the picture of my family. I look at myself, my parents, my little sister, and my grandfather at the countryside, under a clear blue sky, hugging, sharing the joy of being together. It reminds me of the old times, when life was simpler, but it also reminds me of why I came to Bucharest to live in a dormitory. It was because mathematics fascinated me with its beautiful and intricate theories and configurations, and my parents and my family supported me 150 percent. They put in long hours at work to pay for school costs and they selflessly accepted my long absences. I decided then to honor their support, follow our common dream, and become an accomplished mathematician.
Finally today I consider I matched at least an infinitesimal part of my parents’ work. After countless Olympiad stages and fierce selection programs, I managed to win a gold medal at the International Mathematical Olympiad, along with scoring what is called “an ace”: getting gold medals in the National Olympiad, the Balkan Olympiad, and the International Olympiad.
Math, for me, is a vast map of knowledge where theories intersect each other like pathways in a cornfield, and that explains the laws of nature and the universe itself. However, no matter what mathematical sphere shall I soar in, I will always have my family with me and the joy of that day when I was running freely in the cornfield.
文書點(diǎn)評(píng)
這位同學(xué)巧妙的運(yùn)用了復(fù)雜的敘事轉(zhuǎn)換和并列手法。在他的筆下，美麗的田園風(fēng)光和玉米地轉(zhuǎn)換為了完全出乎意料、令人振奮的數(shù)學(xué)領(lǐng)悟。
這個(gè)比喻有效地將豐富的觸覺體驗(yàn)與抽象的認(rèn)知體驗(yàn)結(jié)合在一起。在這種遐想中，我們看到了學(xué)生自由的思想、活躍的思維能力以及受好奇心驅(qū)動(dòng)的探索力。
04
“Let’s face it, you’re slow,” my violin teacher said.
He was, as always, complaining that running was detracting from my practice time.
That summed up what running had always meant to me, ever since I was a seventh grader, choosing his sport for the first time. I was fine and content, however. I always had Jeffrey and Archie, classmates like me who ran slowly. We were good friends. We laughed together; we raced together; we pushed each other, and endured tough workouts together. But after middle school the people I trained with went on to do things they were better at. I remained, even though I was not good enough to be considered for varsity.
High school running was hell. I struggled with workouts, most of which I had to run alone. In the hot, dry days of autumn, I often coughed on the dust trails left by my teammates as they vanished into the distance. During the workouts, I got passed incessantly, almost getting run over on occasion. It hurt not to be important; to be dead weight for the team. I looked forward to the next year, when I could hopefully run with the incoming freshmen.
It didn’t happen that way. Even a year later, I was still the slowest on the team. How could the freshmen who had snored off the whole summer beat me, a veteran from middle school and high school with decent summer training? I nevertheless reconsidered the effectiveness of my training, and looked forward to getting “back in shape.” It was only after my condition had been deteriorating steadily for a few weeks that I began to feel a new level of humiliation. I started to have trouble keeping up with old ladies in the park, and each day I worked frantically to prevent the discovery of that fact by my teammates, running toward the sketchy areas of the ramble, in the south, where there’s barely anybody. My mother, worried about the steady deterioration of my condition, contacted a doctor.
I was anemic.
The doctor prescribed a daily iron pill, and the results were exhilarating. I joked that I was taking steroids. I sunk into endless oxygen. I got tired less. During the workouts, I felt more machine than man. Iron therapy taught me something fundamental. It reminded me why I was running; why I had stuck to this damn sport for four straight years. When I was anemic, I struggled to gather what little motivation I had for those painfully slow jogs in those parks. Putting the effort in, and seeing the dramatic results fooled my mind like a well-administered placebo. Iron therapy was the training wheels that would jump-start my dramatic improvement.
It took four months—four months of iron pills, blood tests, and training—to get back to my personal best: the 5:46 mile that I had run the year before. Early February that year, the training wheels came off. I was running close to seven miles a day on my own. But I wasn’t counting. I could catch a light. I could walk as many stairs as I wanted without getting tired. I was even far ahead of where I was the year before. After two and a half years as a 5:50 miler, I finally had a breakthrough race. I ran a 5:30. I asked coach if I could eventually break 5 minutes. He told me to focus more on maintaining my fitness through spring break.
I ran the mile again, this time outdoors. Coach had me seeded at a 5:30. I ran the first lap, holding back. I didn’t want to overextend myself. I hoped to squeeze by with a 5:35. The euphoria was unprecedented as I realized by the second lap that I was a dozen seconds ahead and still holding back. I finished with a 5:14.
On the bus ride back from the meet, one of my long-standing dreams came true. I pretended to ignore Coach sitting next to me, but he kept on giving me glances. He was excited about my time. We talked a lot about the race. We talked about my continuous and dramatic improvement. He said it was early in the season and that I would break 5 minutes after only a few weeks of training.
Six weeks later, Mr. Song, my chemistry teacher, asked me if I had broken 5 minutes for the mile yet. I told him all about how I had run in three meets over the past month and had failed to break 5:15 on every one of them. I told him that 5 minutes was now for me a mirage in the distance. Mr. Song, however, did not show much concern: “You’re just overtrained. Once you ease up before the big meet, you’ll drop in time once more.”
Even though these consoling words were from the man who had baffled my nutritionist when he had guessed that I was anemic, I still doubted his wisdom. On Sunday, I would run the mile once. My last mile of the year. This was it. Using my tried-and-true racing strategy, I finished with a 5:02, a 12- second drop in time. Mr. Song’s predictions had again turned out to be correct.
Before I was anemic, the correlation between hard work and success was something that only appeared in the cliché success stories of the talented few. Now, I am running more mileage than I ever have before. And my violin teacher still complains.
But I smile. I know it’s going somewhere.
文書點(diǎn)評(píng)
故事的開篇十分“抓人眼球”，簡(jiǎn)潔且出乎意料，能夠充分勾起我們的閱讀興趣。
學(xué)生通過小提琴老師的一句話，引出了他對(duì)“跑步”的熱愛，并講述了他克服“健康障礙”最終在跑步中脫穎而出的故事。
堅(jiān)韌和毅力是貫穿這篇文章的主題，他在整篇文章中進(jìn)行了大量的“自我反思”，最重要的是他講述了自己改變的過程，以及他在這段經(jīng)歷中的收獲，這為我們提供了進(jìn)一步了解學(xué)生的動(dòng)力和窗口。
05
I wrap my scarf more firmly around my neck, feeling the chill of the brisk January air as I trudge my way to practice. The bus stop isn’t actually that far from the pool, but with a heavy backpack and the fancy shoes that my host sister insisted I wear, the three-minute trek seems to last forever. Turning the corner three blocks down, I finally make it to the parking lot and see one of my friends.
“Salut, Thomas.”
He knows that it’s me without even looking. “Salut, Danielle.” He finishes fiddling with his bicycle lock and stands to greet me. I lean in for my customary kiss, and he obliges, bisous-ing me once on each cheek, before we walk toward Piscine Bréquigny together.
Easy conversation flows between us as our well-trained feet follow the paths to our respective changing rooms. I punch in the code on the girls’ side and open the door. Familiar figures stand in various states of undress, and bisous go all around while we change and speculate on the various tortures Marc will put us through today. Then we head down to the pool deck, ready to meet our fates.
I get to our coach first, and mentally switch back into English. “Hey, Marc, what’s up?”
He shrugs. “Fine.”
I laugh and give him a high five, then move on to bisous and ?a va? the rest of the boys. When I get to Islem, who is Algerian, the two of us proceed to execute our exceedingly complex non-French secret handshake, recently perfected at Tours during last week’s three-day meet. (We foreigners have to stick together, after all.) We end with a perfect fist bump, and I smirk.
Islem winks back at me. “Et ouais.” That’s how we roll.
Marc eventually yells at us to get to work, and we all start to put on our caps and goggles. I pull out my team cap from home, reflecting on how much I’ve changed since I left. Four months ago, I was mute, standing awkwardly to the side, hoping that English instructions for the new and frightening social interaction would suddenly appear out of thin air. Now, flawless French rolls off my lips as I greet my friends, laughing freely at inside jokes, not thinking twice about kissing swimsuit-clad swimmers on the cheek. I’m not just on the team anymore—I’m part of it, and every single bisous reminds of that fact.
Someone pushes me into the pool and my shriek is swallowed by the water. I surface and swear my revenge, glaring all the while at Pierre, the obvious culprit, who is grinning unabashedly. Then he yelps and falls as he himself is pushed in as well. The whole team eventually follows us into the water to start the day’s warm up, and a small smile, fond and content, flits across my face before I join them.
文書點(diǎn)評(píng)
怎樣才能寫出一篇好文書？
首先不要過度思考。并不是每個(gè)人都要在16歲之前治愈一種疾病，或是在專業(yè)雜志上發(fā)表一篇研究論文。我們只是想通過文書了解你的為人，而簡(jiǎn)單的日常故事則能最有效地做到這一點(diǎn)。
不可否認(rèn)，我不太喜歡運(yùn)動(dòng)員寫關(guān)于運(yùn)動(dòng)的文章，這非常老套，所以當(dāng)我讀到這篇文章開頭時(shí)，我有點(diǎn)焦慮，但很快就克服了。
這篇文章的開場(chǎng)恰到好處，吸引著我想要更多地了解她在國(guó)外的經(jīng)歷。
她的文字給人一種很有風(fēng)度的幽默感，同時(shí)她在講述自己這段長(zhǎng)達(dá)4個(gè)月的海外訓(xùn)練經(jīng)歷時(shí)，充分展現(xiàn)了自己的毅力、適應(yīng)能力和凝聚力。很顯然，她的精神、個(gè)性和友愛意識(shí)均通過這次海外經(jīng)歷有了很大的成長(zhǎng)。
當(dāng)我讀到這樣一篇有趣的、敘述性強(qiáng)的文章時(shí)，就像被吸引進(jìn)一部迷你電影。我想繼續(xù)讀下去，看看事情會(huì)如何發(fā)展。到最后，我覺得我充分了解了這個(gè)學(xué)生，也知道了她獨(dú)特的個(gè)人特質(zhì)是如何讓她成為任何大學(xué)招生官青睞的人選。
06
I sat under the table, burying my head tightly in my folded arms, while the other children sat on the carpet, listening to the teacher’s story. The language barrier was like a tsunami, gurgling with strange and indistinguishable vocalizations. Elementary school wasn’t as fun as I expected at all.
“Hello?”
Hearing a whisper, I raised my head up, only to notice a boy’s face merely inches away. I bolted up in surprise, my head colliding gracefully with the underside of the table. Yelping in pain, I noticed that the entire class was staring at me.
That was the story of how I met my first friend in Canada.
That boy, Jack, came to visit me during my lonely recesses. It was rather awkward at first—I could only stare at him as he rambled on in English. But it was comforting to have some company.
From there, our friendship blossomed. Our initial conversations must have been hilarious to the hapless bystander. Jack would speak in fluent English while I spurted sentence after sentence of Mandarin. It was like watching tennis—rallies of English and Mandarin back and forth. But I learned quickly, and in no time I was fluent.
Jack also showed me the ropes of Western culture. Heaven knows how embarrassing my birthday party would’ve been if he hadn’t told me about those so-called “l(fā)oot-bags” beforehand.
Today, I volunteer at a community service agency for new immigrants where I work with children. I do it because I understand the confusion and frustration of dealing with a strange and sometimes hostile environment; I remember how it feels to be tangled up in an amalgam of unfamiliar words and sounds. And so I teach them; I give seminars on reading, writing, and speaking skills as well as Western culture, history, and sometimes, a bit of social studies.
But I strive to do more than just that. I try to be a friend—because I remember how Jack helped me. I organize field trips to the science center, the museum, and the symphony: double-whammy trips where children can have fun while improving their literacy skills.
Through these experiences, I try to understand each of them as unique individuals—their likes, dislikes, pet peeves, background.
Everyone needs a guiding light through the lonesome process of adaptation, a friendly bump to lift them from the dark shroud of isolation. That’s what Jack did for me—with a rather painful bump to the head—and it’s also what I do for these immigrant children.
My hope is that, one day, these children will also feel compelled to do the same, helping others adapt to an unfamiliar environment. With this, we can truly create a caring and cohesive network of support for the children of our society.
文書點(diǎn)評(píng)
學(xué)生在這篇文章中講述了他與社區(qū)服務(wù)活動(dòng)的個(gè)人聯(lián)系，并解釋了為什么選擇這些活動(dòng)來申請(qǐng)大學(xué)。
他以在加拿大遇到的第一個(gè)朋友的故事為開端，圍繞這次邂逅與他希望完成的社會(huì)目標(biāo)進(jìn)行深入探討，文字謙遜、幽默且飽含責(zé)任感。
這篇文章的優(yōu)點(diǎn)在于他生動(dòng)地講述了與朋友相遇的故事，并用這個(gè)故事解釋了他對(duì)志愿服務(wù)的熱情。
在文章的結(jié)尾，他將社區(qū)服務(wù)經(jīng)歷與更大的個(gè)人目標(biāo)相結(jié)合，向招生官明確展現(xiàn)了他的想法、夢(mèng)想和成就。
07
Why a Republican Read The Communist Manifesto
I am a conservative. Point-blank. I’m not talking “hardcore, no gay marriage, abortion equates to eternity in Hell, Catholicism is the only religion worthy of my acknowledgment” conservative, but I believe in limited government intervention in private business. I may seem like an unlikely candidate for such beliefs; I live in Springfield, Massachusetts, an urban environment where the majority of the population utilizes some sort of government assistance to supplement the costs of living. Well, maybe not the absolute majority, but I certainly see a lot of it. Though raised as a Catholic, I believe in nothing more than simple spirituality, and do not abide by all the stipulations of the strict Catholic community (although I do continue to attend church because I find the environment welcoming and the people overwhelmingly happy and uplifting). I attend the Drama Studio, a small, conservatory style acting community where I am considered the token Republican (artsy and conservative—is this what Harold Camping meant by the Rapture?) Not surprisingly, my colleagues have made many attempts at conversion (“Watch MSNBC, Danielle; I promise you’ll love it!”) But I stick to my guns— no pun intended. However, I have found that sharing the majority of my time with those of conflicting opinions has enlightened me in the ways of respect and compromise.
Enter Jacob Mueller. Literally the son of a preacher man (his father is the minister at Trinity United Methodist Church), his political views on Facebook are listed as “Member of the Communist Party of America.” Oh, boy … He entered my Advanced Scene Work class in its second semester, and as is the Drama Studio custom, I welcomed him with open arms and commenced what I soon discovered to be the long and interesting process of getting to know him. Through this, I discovered a few important things; like me, he loved politics. Like me, he was well informed. And, like me, he was more than willing to argue his opinion.
Through our Odd Couple dynamic, we found an endless number of conversation topics. Every day was a new, “Did you see what the Tea Party’s newest legislation entails?” countered by a, “How about that Scott Brown, eh?” I was the Michele Bachmann to his Al Gore. But the remarkable thing about our debates was not their intensity or their depth, but how much I was learning by listening to him talk.
A strange thing was happening to me. For the girl who had always been staunchly opinionated and stubborn, who had never been one for agreeing with the opposition, who took pride in her ability to stand her ground even when she represented the minority view, compromise suddenly had a new meaning. Its connotation was no longer negative. And, in turn my ability to not only understand but also respect a view contradictory to my own was growing in strength. In order to foster this newfound mind-set, I presented myself with the ultimate challenge. In a moment of excited passion, I logged on to Amazon.com and, for $4.95, ordered a copy of The Communist Manifesto. The little book, with its floppy laminated cover depicting a hammer and a sickle on a glossy black background and plain white block letters spelling out its title with inconspicuous innocence, took its place at the head of my bed, where it resided for the next month. Bit by bit, it began to fill with marks of pensive notation, speckles of yellow appearing in odd places where the highlighter had bled through, its fragile pages curving with the insistent pen marks that filled their margins.
As I devoured the words of Marx and Engels, I realized something remarkable. I’m not going to tell you I agreed with them; in a lot of instances, I didn’t. But I did understand what they were saying, and I was able to respect them both as visionaries and intellectuals. Where the old voice in my head would have said, “Wow, what idiots,” my new voice was open to more than just the fundamental ideas, but the intelligence it must have taken to form them and the thought process behind them.
When I register to vote, I will not be registering as a Democrat. You won’t see me at any PETA meetings, and you certainly won’t hear me speaking fondly about President Obama’s plans for health care. But I can proudly say that The Communist Manifesto taught this Republican what it means to compromise, and to respect.
文書點(diǎn)評(píng)
這篇文章的表述有趣且個(gè)性十足，但毋庸置疑——學(xué)生通過直接談?wù)撜魏妥诮汤@過了文書寫作的一般準(zhǔn)則。
如果有必要在文書中談?wù)摖?zhēng)議話題，比如政治，那么要盡量避免提及“個(gè)人信仰和強(qiáng)烈的觀點(diǎn)”，而這位學(xué)生基本是這樣做的（盡管她提到了The Communist Manifesto）。
原因很簡(jiǎn)單，“個(gè)人信仰和觀點(diǎn)”是非常抽象的，相比之下，大學(xué)想要了解的是真實(shí)的你，所以文書最好是以難忘、近距離、腳踏實(shí)地的方式來表達(dá)你自己。
在這篇文章中，學(xué)生將自己定位為一個(gè)對(duì)新事物持開放態(tài)度的人，這也是向招生官展示自我的絕佳態(tài)勢(shì)。
大學(xué)最青睞那些“兼具學(xué)識(shí)的開拓者和探險(xiǎn)家”，而你要做的，就是在文書中證明這一點(diǎn)。
08
Soft Wooden Heart
The backbone of my life is my writing desk. I like to describe its surface as an organized mess (despite my parents’ overdramatized description of a bomb site), a state of positive entropy and minimum energy. Math exercises overlap an organizer, set next to almost-empty tubes of paint and overdue library books. A constantly filled bottle of water sits behind a glasses’ case full of guitar picks, and carved into a mountain of paper, right in the middle, is a space reserved for my laptop—on days when I am slouching, The Complete Works of William Shakespeare needs to be slid under it. An eclectic desk shows an eclectic personality; mine has had the honor of being the training grounds prior to the Great (final) Battle (exam) of Chemistry, the peaceful meadow of relaxed reading afternoons, and all in all the pristine-turned-colorful canvas of an inquisitive mind.
I remember buying it with my mother five years ago, when my bruised knees protested against the tiny white-paint-gone-yellow one I had used since childhood. My new desk was made of native Rimu heartwood—solid, resilient, dependable—a perfect role model for me to grow into. Over the years, its material became representative of my New Zealand identity, its surface slowly coated in quirky personality, and its compartments filled with treasured memories; the heartwood desk echoed my heart.
At first, it did not fit with the decor of the rest of my room, which even now appears boxy and stark next to my grandiosely elegant writing desk, but its quiet strength is unafraid of individuality, just as I have learned to become. It has watched as I grew stronger branches, a straighter trunk, firmer roots; whereas I had once been but a shy young seedling, I sprouted leaves and with them the ability and yearning to provide shade for others. I have certainly physically grown into it, but although I would like to think that I have become completely independent, I remain human; in inevitable times of need, it is still my steadfast, sturdy desk that offers its support.
I sit here and, well, I write: joyfully, desolately, irately, wistfully—at times paralyzed by excitement, at others crippled by fear. I scrawl notes in my organizer (which is, naturally, not in the least organized), words overflow my blog, overemotional oranges and blues plague my illustrations; shallow scratch marks indent the wood from where I have pressed too passionately into paper. It may be solid, but it is elastic enough to be shaped, resilient enough to adapt: This is my soft wooden heart.
It can take it. My desk remains constant despite scars of experience—unassuming, stoic, ever watchful. Even when I dismembered dying cell phones, their frail key tones pleading for mercy, the desk stood there, nonchalant. Regardless of what fervor goes on from time to time, it knows there will eventually be a constant calm; my lively nest of rebuilt mobiles still calls this place home. Sometimes, I rest my uncertain head on its reassuring solid surface and the wood presses back into my heartbeat, communicating in Morse: “Don’t worry. Some things will never change.”
And, like a mother, it always turns out to be right. Beneath my seemingly chaotic coat of papers and objects; beneath the superfluous, temporary things that define my present life, my desk and my heart remain still—solid, stable, and evergreen, ready to be written onto and scratched into by experience.
文書點(diǎn)評(píng)
一篇有意義的文書不一定是關(guān)于重大成就或坎坷的個(gè)人經(jīng)歷。通常，最具靈感的寫作可以從簡(jiǎn)單而意想不到的事物演變而來，比如一張寫字臺(tái)。
這篇文書通過簡(jiǎn)單、富有創(chuàng)造力的語言，帶領(lǐng)讀者深入了學(xué)生的內(nèi)心世界，在那里我們發(fā)現(xiàn)了一個(gè)聰明、獨(dú)特、有自我意識(shí)的年輕女性。
通過這張“特別的書桌”，我們看到了她對(duì)藝術(shù)的興趣、她的學(xué)術(shù)能力及她戰(zhàn)勝拖延的毅力。
在這里，我希望告訴大家：申請(qǐng)文書是展示個(gè)人的寶貴機(jī)會(huì)，但沒必要把生活的方方面面均寫入其中，請(qǐng)記住“Less is more”。
09
I look over at the digital clock at the front of the bus just as the time changes to 8:30. The engine begins to rumble, the seat begins to shake, and the bus slowly pulls onto Route 6 and heads toward JPA—the Jay Pritzker Academy—near Siem Reap, Cambodia. The bus is alive with chatter. Peace Corps volunteers trade stories about their experiences in their assigned villages; international schoolteachers discuss their plans for the day’s lessons. I overhear one of the Peace Corps volunteers, Deidre, say, “I have to say, the Peace Corps offers incredible health care. They medevaced me to Bangkok when I got dengue fever.”
Today, I find myself unable to join the conversation. I stare blankly at the blue cloth seat in front of me, trying to gently coax my knotted stomach out of my throat. All I can think about is the empty seat beside me and the uncomfortable feeling of entering uncertain territory alone.
My friend and co-teacher, Shahriyar, is in the Angkor Hospital recovering from a serious bout of amoebic dysentery. I visited him yesterday. He was lying in bed with his summer reading in his right hand and an IV in his left. Looking pale and exhausted, he weakly lifted his head and greeted me. “I don’t know if you know this yet,” he said, “but I’m flying home tomorrow. Are youcoming with me?” Though the news didn’t surprise me, the question caught me off guard. As I left the hospital room, I couldn’t help but think how easily this could have been me in his situation.
The bus drives over a speed bump faster than it should have, and I’m jolted back to the present. I try to take my mind off Shahriyar and look out the window at the world around me. Everything is so much different than it is in Deerfield, yet it all somehow feels very natural to me. To my left I see an elderly woman wearing a mask sweeping dust off the street; I smile at her, but she doesn’t notice. As the bus gets closer and closer to JPA, the fact that I will have to teach today’s lessons by myself begins to set in. I wonder if I’m physically capable of teaching three hours of class by myself in the ninetydegree heat and 90 percent humidity.
In the past,Shahriyar and I had always taken turns leading the class, giving each other a few moments to rest and rehydrate while the other taught. A part of me is afraid to do it. I’ve never had to lead the class without the comfort and support of having Shahriyar by my side. As I think about the challenges I will face, I realize how easy it would be to turn back. I only have to call Sokun—a local tuk-tuk driver and he’d take me to the airport. Knowing my co-teacher has become seriously ill, nobody would think less of me if I went home today.
As I sit in my seat, planning my trip home, the bus slows nearly to a stop and then turns onto a narrow red dirt road. I’ve suddenly plunged into a new world. The mess of worn-down concrete buildings and mopeds gives way to miles of flooded rice paddies stretching as far as I can see. Every few hundred yards I see boys and young men working barefoot in the fields. The bamboo huts that dot the landscape make me think back to my visit to the house of one of my students, Dari. I remember looking into his room and seeing a wooden table on his dirt floor. Close by, a bamboo shelf was filled with books. The globe he had won for being on the Honor Roll was proudly displayed on the bookshelf among his prized possessions. Smiling ear to ear, he told us that JPA was the best thing in his life. I realize that it really is too late to go home. I’ve already fallen in love with my students.
As the bus pulls into JPA’s driveway, the rest of the teachers begin gathering their materials. I remain seated, deep in thought. “Are you coming?” I hear a familiar voice ask me. I look up and see Deidre looking at me.
“Of course I am.”
文書點(diǎn)評(píng)
在寫有關(guān)社區(qū)服務(wù)的文書時(shí)，學(xué)生很容易陷入自我膨脹的陷阱——過多強(qiáng)調(diào)個(gè)人犧牲和善舉，然而這樣的表述并不能體現(xiàn)出你對(duì)社區(qū)服務(wù)的真正興趣。
然而這篇文章則規(guī)避這個(gè)陷阱，巧妙地表達(dá)了謙遜、熱愛及他在工作中對(duì)他人的貢獻(xiàn)。
這位學(xué)生的社區(qū)服務(wù)經(jīng)歷非常獨(dú)特，他這篇文書的優(yōu)勢(shì)在于，我們能透過這段志愿經(jīng)歷，看到學(xué)生性格中更深層次的特質(zhì)，同時(shí)文章的表述也充分體現(xiàn)出了他的真誠(chéng)，而這一點(diǎn)往往是很多學(xué)生忽略的。
從素材選擇、文章結(jié)構(gòu)，再到語言表達(dá)，優(yōu)秀文書中的方方面面都值得我們學(xué)習(xí)和參考，也能夠?yàn)槲覀兊奈臅峁╈`感來源。那么——
哈佛大學(xué)到底青睞怎樣的文書？
以上文書中的故事或是以小見大 、突出思考，或是通過個(gè)人興趣展現(xiàn)獨(dú)特之處，或是借助“高光時(shí)刻”展示抱負(fù)和志趣……但不外乎自我認(rèn)知、興趣愛好、以及未來期許等角度。
同時(shí)，官方點(diǎn)評(píng)這9篇文書時(shí)，最常出現(xiàn)的是“一個(gè)有吸引力的開頭”，以及具有真情實(shí)感的細(xì)節(jié)描述。
除了寫作手法和技巧，這些優(yōu)秀文書向我們展現(xiàn)最多的是學(xué)生的性格特質(zhì)或思維角度。
無論是打雪仗的故事、還是一段海外的生活經(jīng)歷，哈佛大學(xué)選出的優(yōu)秀文書均表達(dá)了學(xué)生在成長(zhǎng)中的深刻思考。
當(dāng)然，這些優(yōu)秀文書也并非是“完美”的，校方也在點(diǎn)評(píng)中給出了中肯的改進(jìn)意見，比如
在申請(qǐng)文書中談?wù)撚袪?zhēng)議的話題，如政治話題時(shí)，該如何重點(diǎn)突出地行文，而不僅僅是闡述自己的信仰或觀點(diǎn)。
由此可見，哈佛更愿意看到學(xué)生在自我經(jīng)歷中的自省、反思與成長(zhǎng)。
即使你沒有非�！蔼�(dú)特”的故事，但如果你能從“簡(jiǎn)單的小事”表現(xiàn)出你對(duì)自己人生，乃至對(duì)世界的思考，都是哈佛想要看到的。
以上，就是小編為大家分享的全部?jī)?nèi)容。希望這些優(yōu)秀的文書范文，能為大家的文書寫作和構(gòu)思有所幫助！
美國(guó)西北大學(xué)申請(qǐng)花多少？多類費(fèi)用拆解
