2020年哈佛大学9篇优秀录取文书之前3篇
申请哈耶普斯的同学一般都是各个学校的顶级学霸，通常情况下，他们在标化成绩、gpa方面都无法拉开差距，影响招生官的最大变数来自文书和课外活动，因此，文书如果能写出亮点，吸引到招生官，那么被录取的概率就会提升很多。
近日，哈佛大学公布了2020年入学的9名优秀申请者的文书，杨茗棋老师做了整理，申请2022年秋季入学的同学可以看一下。认真体会下优秀文书的语言风格，写作逻辑，以及如何讲好自己的故事的。
今年的申请者，可以提前着手文书的创作，还是那句话，申请名校，语言成绩只是敲门砖，真正赢得招生官青睐的还是要看文书是否打动他，活动是否有足够的含金量。
哈佛大学公开的这9篇文书完全符合了好文书的四个标准：correctness（准确），content（有料），clarity ﹙清晰﹚，creativity（新颖）。
准确：用词准确，时态、拼写和标点没有错误。这一标准用来评判学生是否具备基本英文写作能力。
有料：检查文章是否围绕学生自身来写，是否真实，是否展现学生个性、才能以及思想深度，能否引起反思。
清晰：文章简洁，观点清晰明确；运用恰当的措辞、词汇、语法以及多样精致的句式结构，这是即将步入大学的高中生应该必备的。
新颖：能否吸引读者的注意力？主题表达是否新颖？
一起来体会下（篇幅有限，本篇文章有3篇文书，后续2期还有3篇）：
第一篇essay（作者：octav）
a light breeze caressing the cornfiel makes it look like a gentle swaying sea of gol uner the ginger sun of late summer. a chil’s chime-like laughter echoes. as i rush through the cornfiel, i hear the rustling of leaves an the murmur of life hien among the stems that tower over me.
i remember the joy of the ay when i solve one of my first ifficult combinatorics problems at my parents’ house in the countrysie. i felt so exhilarate that i ran outsie an into the cornfiel. as i was passing row after row of stems, i realize the cornfiel was actually a giant matrix with thousans of combinations of possible pathways, just like the combinatorics problem i ha just solve. i looke at the sky an i thought about the great mathematicians of the past that contribute so much to this fiel an about how i have ae yet another imension to my matrix. suenly, mathematics appeare to me as a 3 live map where staggering arrays of ieas connect each other by steay flows of sheer wisom.
suenly a lou laughter from the next room wakes me up from my reverie. i am back in my room in the rab ormitory where i live since i was fifteen. the im sunset barely lightens up my room, while the col november win rushes from the broken-an-mene-with-tape winow on the hallway, whistling beneath my oor. my roommates haven’t returne yet, an i feel alone an isolate.
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, an my granfather at the countrysie, uner a clear blue sky, hugging, sharing the joy of being together. it remins me of the ol times, when life was simpler, but it also remins me of why i came to bucharest to live in a ormitory. it was because mathematics fascinate me with its beautiful an intricate theories an configurations, an my parents an my family supporte me 150 percent. they put in long hours at work to pay for school costs an they selflessly accepte my long absences. i ecie then to honor their support, follow our common ream, an become an accomplishe mathematician.
finally toay i consier i matche at least an infinitesimal part of my parents’ work. after countless olympia stages an fierce selection programs, i manage to win a gol meal at the international mathematical olympia, along with scoring what is calle “an ace”: getting gol meals in the national olympia, the balkan olympia, an the international olympia.
math, for me, is a vast map of knowlege where theories intersect each other like pathways in a cornfiel, an that explains the laws of nature an the universe itself. however, no matter what mathematical sphere shall i soar in, i will always have my family with me an the joy of that ay when i was running freely in the cornfiel.
点评：octav的文书通过叙事的形式带领读者进入他的回忆，写到自己对数学的顿悟，然后又写自己在数学方面的付出和成果，进而写出自己的独到见解和对未来的希冀。文章不长，但很吸引人，该突出的细节都体现到位，比如好奇心，对数学的长期热爱，想表达的信息也都体现出来了，比如各种奖项，自己如何刻苦努力等。读完这篇文书就像看到一个少年成长的缩影，让人印象深刻。
第二篇essay（作者：lessar）
why a republican rea the communist manifesto
i am a conservative. point-blank. i’m not talking “harcore, no gay marriage, abortion equates to eternity in hell, catholicism is the only religion worthy of my acknowlegment” conservative, but i believe in limite government intervention in private business. i may seem like an unlikely caniate for such beliefs; i live in springfiel, 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 raise as a catholic, i believe in nothing more than simple spirituality, an o not abie by all the stipulations of the strict catholic community ﹙although i o continue to atten church because i fin the environment welcoming an the people overwhelmingly happy an uplifting﹚. i atten the rama stuio, a small, conservatory style acting community where i am consiere the token republican ﹙artsy an conservative—is this what harol camping meant by the rapture?﹚ not surprisingly, my colleagues have mae many attempts at conversion ﹙“watch msnbc, anielle; i promise you’ll love it!”﹚ but i stick to my guns— no pun intene. however, i have foun that sharing the majority of my time with those of conflicting opinions has enlightene me in the ways of respect an compromise.
enter jacob mueller. literally the son of a preacher man ﹙his father is the minister at trinity unite methoist church﹚, his political views on facebook are liste as “member of the communist party of america.” oh, boy … he entere my avance scene work class in its secon semester, an as is the rama stuio custom, i welcome him with open arms an commence what i soon iscovere to be the long an interesting process of getting to know him. through this, i iscovere a few important things; like me, he love politics. like me, he was well informe. an, like me, he was more than willing to argue his opinion.
through our o couple ynamic, we foun an enless number of conversation topics. every ay was a new, “i you see what the tea party’s newest legislation entails?” countere by a, “how about that scott brown, eh?” i was the michele bachmann to his al gore. but the remarkable thing about our ebates was not their intensity or their epth, but how much i was learning by listening to him talk.
a strange thing was happening to me. for the girl who ha always been staunchly opinionate an stubborn, who ha never been one for agreeing with the opposition, who took prie in her ability to stan her groun even when she represente the minority view, compromise suenly ha a new meaning. its connotation was no longer negative. an, in turn my ability to not only unerstan but also respect a view contraictory to my own was growing in strength. in orer to foster this newfoun min-set, i presente myself with the ultimate challenge. in a moment of excite passion, i logge on to amazon.com an, for $4.95, orere a copy of the communist manifesto. the little book, with its floppy laminate cover epicting a hammer an a sickle on a glossy black backgroun an plain white block letters spelling out its title with inconspicuous innocence, took its place at the hea of my be, where it resie for the next month. bit by bit, it began to fill with marks of pensive notation, speckles of yellow appearing in o places where the highlighter ha ble through, its fragile pages curving with the insistent pen marks that fille their margins.
as i evoure the wors of marx an engels, i realize something remarkable. i’m not going to tell you i agree with them; in a lot of instances, i in’t. but i i unerstan what they were saying, an i was able to respect them both as visionaries an intellectuals. where the ol voice in my hea woul have sai, “wow, what iiots,” my new voice was open to more than just the funamental ieas, but the intelligence it must have taken to form them an the thought process behin them.
when i register to vote, i will not be registering as a emocrat. you won’t see me at any peta meetings, an you certainly won’t hear me speaking fonly about presient obama’s plans for health care. but i can prouly say that the communist manifesto taught this republican what it means to compromise, an to respect.
第三篇essay（作者：john）
“let’s face it, you’re slow,” my violin teacher sai.
he was, as always, complaining that running was etracting from my practice time.
that summe up what running ha always meant to me, ever since i was a seventh graer, choosing his sport for the first time. i was fine an content, however. i always ha jeffrey an archie, classmates like me who ran slowly. we were goo friens. we laughe together; we race together; we pushe each other, an enure tough workouts together. but after mile school the people i traine with went on to o things they were better at. i remaine, even though i was not goo enough to be consiere for varsity.
high school running was hell. i struggle with workouts, most of which i ha to run alone. in the hot, ry ays of autumn, i often coughe on the ust trails left by my teammates as they vanishe into the istance. uring the workouts, i got passe incessantly, almost getting run over on occasion. it hurt not to be important; to be ea weight for the team. i looke forwar to the next year, when i coul hopefully run with the incoming freshmen.
it in’t happen that way. even a year later, i was still the slowest on the team. how coul the freshmen who ha snore off the whole summer beat me, a veteran from mile school an high school with ecent summer training? i nevertheless reconsiere the effectiveness of my training, an looke forwar to getting “back in shape.” it was only after my conition ha been eteriorating steaily for a few weeks that i began to feel a new level of humiliation. i starte to have trouble keeping up with ol laies in the park, an each ay i worke frantically to prevent the iscovery of that fact by my teammates, running towar the sketchy areas of the ramble, in the south, where there’s barely anyboy. my mother, worrie about the steay eterioration of my conition, contacte a octor.
i was anemic.
the octor prescribe a aily iron pill, an the results were exhilarating. i joke that i was taking sterois. i sunk into enless oxygen. i got tire less. uring the workouts, i felt more machine than man. iron therapy taught me something funamental. it remine me why i was running; why i ha stuck to this amn sport for four straight years. when i was anemic, i struggle to gather what little motivation i ha for those painfully slow jogs in those parks. putting the effort in, an seeing the ramatic results foole my min like a well-aministere placebo. iron therapy was the training wheels that woul jump-start my ramatic improvement.
it took four months—four months of iron pills, bloo tests, an training—to get back to my personal best: the 5:46 mile that i ha run the year before. early february that year, the training wheels came off. i was running close to seven miles a ay on my own. but i wasn’t counting. i coul catch a light. i coul walk as many stairs as i wante without getting tire. i was even far ahea of where i was the year before. after two an a half years as a 5:50 miler, i finally ha a breakthrough race. i ran a 5:30. i aske coach if i coul eventually break 5 minutes. he tol me to focus more on maintaining my fitness through spring break.
i ran the mile again, this time outoors. coach ha me seee at a 5:30. i ran the first lap, holing back. i in’t want to overexten myself. i hope to squeeze by with a 5:35. the euphoria was unpreceente as i realize by the secon lap that i was a ozen secons ahea an still holing back. i finishe with a 5:14.
on the bus rie back from the meet, one of my long-staning reams came true. i pretene to ignore coach sitting next to me, but he kept on giving me glances. he was excite about my time. we talke a lot about the race. we talke about my continuous an ramatic improvement. he sai it was early in the season an that i woul break 5 minutes after only a few weeks of training.
six weeks later, mr. song, my chemistry teacher, aske me if i ha broken 5 minutes for the mile yet. i tol him all about how i ha run in three meets over the past month an ha faile to break 5:15 on every one of them. i tol him that 5 minutes was now for me a mirage in the istance. mr. song, however, i not show much concern: “you’re just overtraine. once you ease up before the big meet, you’ll rop in time once more.”
even though these consoling wors were from the man who ha baffle my nutritionist when he ha guesse that i was anemic, i still oubte his wisom. on sunay, i woul run the mile once. my last mile of the year. this was it. using my trie-an-true racing strategy, i finishe with a 5:02, a 12- secon rop in time. mr. song’s preictions ha again turne out to be correct.
before i was anemic, the correlation between har work an success was something that only appeare in the cliché success stories of the talente few. now, i am running more mileage than i ever have before. an my violin teacher still complains.
but i smile. i know it’s going somewhere.
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