哈佛大學新生10篇最佳文書官方點評分享

自從(cong) 疫情肆虐以來，許多美國大學提出了“可選政策”。哈佛研究生院教授認為(wei) ，缺乏標化成績，正如一個(ge) 桌子缺了一條腿，一切隻能取決(jue) 於(yu) 剩下的那幾條腿。

如此文書(shu) 、活動、GPA、推薦信等變得更為(wei) 重要。

每年，哈佛大學都會(hui) 邀請哈佛新生分享自己的申請文書(shu) ，並從(cong) 中精選10篇最佳文書(shu) 進行官方點評發布。一起來看下哈佛更看重學生的哪些品質吧！

注：內(nei) 容來源於(yu) 哈佛校報《The Crimson》，內(nei) 容有刪改

Abigail Mack

一個(ge) 字母獲得哈佛錄取

憑一個(ge) 字母，讓Abigail Mack收到哈佛、耶魯等7所院校的offer，哈佛直接發likely letter。她在TikTok上分享自己文書(shu) 的視頻，受到1990萬(wan) 關(guan) 注。

I hate the letter “S”. Of the 164,777 words with “S”, I only grapple with one.

To condemn an entire letter because of its use 0.0006% of the time sounds statistically absurd, but that one case changed 100% of my life. I used to have two parents, but now I have one, and the “S” in “parents” isn’t going anywhere.

“S” follows me. I can’t get through a day without being reminded that while my friends went out to dinner with their parents, I ate with my parent. As I write this essay, there is a blue line under the word “parent” telling me to check my grammar; even Grammarly assumes that I should have parents, but cancer doesn’t listen to edit suggestions. I won’t claim that my situation is as unique as 1 in 164,777, but it is still an exception to the rule - an outlier. The world isn’t meant for this special case.

The world wouldn’t abandon “S” because of me, so I tried to abandon “S”. I could get away from “S” if I stayed busy; you can’t have dinner with your “parent” (thanks again, Grammarly) if you’re too busy to have family dinner. Any spare time that I had, I filled. I became known as the “busy kid”- the one that everyone always asks, “How do you have time?” Morning meetings, classes, after school meetings, volleyball practice, dance class, rehearsal in Boston, homework, sleep, repeat. Though my specific schedule has changed over time, the busyness has not. I couldn’t fill the loss that “S” left in my life, but I could at least make sure I didn’t have to think about it. There were so many things in my life that I couldn’t control, so I controlled what I could- my schedule. I never succumbed to the stress of potentially over-committing. I thrived. It became a challenge to juggle it all, but I’d soon find a rhythm. But rhythm wasn’t what I wanted. Rhythm may not have an “S”, but “S” sure liked to come by when I was idle. So, I added another ball, and another, and another. Soon I noticed that the same “color” balls kept falling into my hands- theater, academics, politics. I began to want to come into contact with these more and more, so I further narrowed the scope of my color wheel and increased the shades of my primary colors.

Life became easier to juggle, but for the first time, I didn’t add another ball. I found my rhythm, and I embraced it. I stopped running away from a single “S” and began chasing a double “S”- passion. Passion has given me purpose. I was shackled to “S” as I tried to escape the confines of the traditional familial structure. No matter how far I ran, “S” stayed behind me because I kept looking back. I’ve finally learned to move forward instead of away, and it is liberating. “S” got me moving, but it hasn’t kept me going.

I wish I could end here, triumphant and basking in my new inspiration, but life is more convoluted. Motivation is a double edged sword; it keeps me facing forward, but it also keeps me from having to look back. I want to claim that I showed courage in being able to turn from “S”, but I cannot. Motivation is what keeps “S” at bay. I am not perfectly healed, but I am perfect at navigating the best way to heal me. I don’t seek out sadness, so “S” must stay on the sidelines, and until I am completely ready, motivation is more than enough for me.

. 官方點評

阿比蓋爾的文書(shu) 選了最微妙的一個(ge) 話題：家庭悲劇。常見的錯誤方式是把一個(ge) 悲慘的事件用太多悲傷(shang) 來渲染，以至於(yu) 除了故事外並不能看到作者本身的個(ge) 性。

但阿比蓋爾巧妙的避開這點，用字母“S”貫穿整個(ge) 故事，並用引人入勝的方式分享了個(ge) 人成長。

阿比蓋爾並沒有把重心放在父母一人的死亡上，而是麵對生活變故她如何不得不做出調整，這個(ge) 感覺更令人心酸。

這裏有一種誠實，她坦誠地向讀者揭示了她試圖通過不斷忙碌來填補生活中的空白。讓自己重新拾起對生活的熱情。

整篇文章的語言生動又真誠。文章結尾本可以用一種敘事的方式完美結束，但阿比蓋爾更明智的承認“生活更加複雜”。這種超越年齡的成熟令人印象深刻，能感受到她對生活的思考和成長。

 

Carrie：把興(xing) 趣和學習(xi) 結合

把枯燥的學科學習(xi) 變得生動有趣，精準戳中招生官的心，堪稱教科書(shu) 級的“哈佛文書(shu) ”。

The best compliment I ever received was from my little brother: “My science teacher’s unbelievably good at telling stories,” he announced. “Nearly as good as you.” I thought about that, how I savor a good story the way some people savor last-minute touchdowns.

I learned in biology that I’m composed of 7 × 10 27 atoms, but that number didn’t mean anything to me until I read Bill Bryson’s A Short History of Nearly Everything. One sentence stayed with me for weeks: “Every atom you possess has almost certainly passed through several stars and been part of millions of organisms on its way to becoming you.” It estimates that each human has about 2 billion atoms of Shakespeare hanging around inside—quite a comfort, as I try to write this essay. I thought about every one of my atoms, wondering where they had been and what miracles they had witnessed.

My physical body is a string of atoms, but what of my inner self, my soul, my essence? I’ve come to the realization that my life has been a string as well, a string of stories. Every one of us is made of star stuff, forged through fires, and emerging as nicked as the surface of the moon. It frustrated me no end that I couldn’t sit down with all the people I met, interrogating them about their lives, identifying every last story that made them who they are.

I remember how magical it was the first time I read a fiction book: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. I was duly impressed with Quidditch and the Invisibility Cloak, of course, but I was absolutely spellbound by how much I could learn about Harry. The kippers he had for breakfast, the supplies he bought for Potions—the details everyone skimmed over were remarkable to me. Fiction was a revelation. Here, at last, was a window into another person’s string of stories!

Over the years, I’ve thought long and hard about that immortal question: What superpower would you choose? I considered the usual suspects—invisibility, superhuman strength, flying—but threw them out immediately. My superhero alter ego would be Story Girl. She wouldn’t run marathons, but she could walk for miles and miles in other people’s shoes. She’d know that all it takes for empathy and understanding is the right story.

Imagine my astonishment when I discovered Radiolab on NPR. Here was my imaginary superpower, embodied in real life! I had been struggling with AP Biology, seeing it as a class full of complicated processes and alien vocabulary. That changed radically when I listened, enthralled, as Radiolab traced the effects of dopamine on love and gambling. This was science, sure, but it was science as I’d never heard it before. It contained conflict and emotion and a narrative; it made me anxious to learn more. It wasn’t that I was obtuse for biology; I just hadn’t found the stories in it before.

I’m convinced that you can learn anything in the form of a story. The layperson often writes off concepts—entropy, the Maginot Line, anapestic meter—as too foreign to comprehend. But with the right framing, the world suddenly becomes an open book, enticing and ripe for exploration. I want to become a writer to find those stories, much like Jad Abumrad and Robert Krulwich from Radiolab, making intimidating subjects become familiar and inviting for everyone. I want to become Story Girl.

. 官方點評

Carrie用弟弟的讚揚點出自己最擅長的事：講故事。她明確表示自己是個(ge) 有好奇心和創造力的人，這一特質受到招生官的重視，讓人忍不住繼續讀下去。

Carrie把興(xing) 趣和生物科學相結合，能夠突出她過去的經曆如何幫助她克服新的挑戰。這使她成功塑造成一個(ge) 足智多謀的問題解決(jue) 者：這是大學非常重視學生的特質。

在文章最後，Carrie闡述完自己的目標外，還明確表示她願意為(wei) 社會(hui) 變革、為(wei) 哈佛大學做出貢獻的熱情。

 

Anthony：在日本夏天的學習(xi) 和成長

安東(dong) 尼曾在日本讀過兩(liang) 個(ge) 夏天，他把自己學到的知識梳理成文字，既展現出文字功底又表現出自己的成長。

I had never seen houses floating down a river. Minutes before there had not even been a river. An immense wall of water was destroying everything in its wake, picking up fishing boats to smash them against buildings. It was the morning of March 11, 2011. Seeing the images of destruction wrought by the earthquake and tsunami in Japan, I felt as if something within myself was also being shaken, for I had just spent two of the happiest summers of my life there.

In the summer of my freshman year, I received the Kikkoman National Scholarship, which allowed me to travel to Japan to stay with a host family in Tokyo for ten weeks. I arrived just as the swine flu panic gripped the world, so I was not allowed to attend high school with my host brother, Yamato. Instead, I took Japanese language, judo, and karate classes and explored the confusing sprawl of the largest city in the world. I spent time with the old men of my neighborhood in the onsen, or hot spring, questioning them about the Japan of their youth. They laughed and told me that if I wanted to see for myself, I should work on a farm.

The next summer I returned to Japan, deciding to heed the old men’s advice and volunteer on a farm in Japan’s northernmost island, Hokkaido. I spent two weeks working more than fourteen hours a day. I held thirty-pound bags of garlic with one hand while trying to tie them to a rope hanging from the ceiling with the other, but couldn’t hold the bags in the air long enough. Other days were spent pulling up endless rows of daikon, or Japanese radish, which left rashes on my arms that itched for weeks. Completely exhausted, I stumbled back to the farmhouse, only to be greeted by the family’s young children who were eager to play. I passed out every night in a room too small for me to straighten my legs. One day, I overslept a lunch break by two hours. I awoke mortified, and hurried to the father. After I apologized in the most polite form of Japanese, his face broke into a broad grin. He patted me on the back and said, “You are a good worker, Anthony. There is no need to apologize.” This single exchange revealed the true spirit of the Japanese farmer. The family had lived for years in conditions that thoroughly wore me out in only a few days. I had missed two hours of work, yet they were still perpetually thankful to me. In their life of unbelievable hardship, they still found room for compassion.

When I had first gone to Tokyo, I had sought the soul of the nation among its skyscrapers and urban hot springs. The next summer I spurned the beaten track in an attempt to discover the true spirit of Japan. While lugging enormously heavy bags of garlic and picking daikon, I found that spirit. The farmers worked harder than anyone I have ever met, but they still made room in their hearts for me. So when the tsunami threatened the people to whom I owed so much, I had to act. Remembering the lesson of compassion I learned from the farm family, I started a fund-raiser in my community called “One Thousand Cranes for Japan.” Little more than two weeks later, we had raised over $8,000 and a flock of one thousand cranes was on its way to Japan.

. 官方點評

這篇文章幹淨又直接。他的優(you) 點就在於(yu) 他的簡單性。他介紹了自己第一次探索東(dong) 京，學習(xi) 了語言和文化，第二次去體(ti) 驗日本鄉(xiang) 村生活。讓我們(men) 感受到他是一個(ge) 有趣、勤奮、求知欲強、敬業(ye) 和謙虛的人，這是招生官所尋找的特質。

我們(men) 喜歡看到申請人如何從(cong) 頭到尾學習(xi) ，成長或改變。

而且在文章最後他把自己為(wei) 日本海嘯籌款與(yu) 開頭呼應起來，給讀者留下深刻的印象。

但這篇文章並不完美，他或許可以簡單說下去日本的原因，日本語言、文化是否和他的學術或興(xing) 趣有關(guan) 。但即使這些內(nei) 容有缺失，也不妨礙這篇文章的優(you) 秀。

 

Elizabeth：以小見大

以小見大是文書(shu) 寫(xie) 作常用的手法。伊麗(li) 莎白通過自己擅長的繪畫，展示出為(wei) 自己的生活和學習(xi) 帶來的一些思考，讓文章更鮮活。

"Paint this vase before you leave today," my teacher directed as she placed foreign brushes and paints in my hands. I looked at her blankly. Where were the charts of colors and books of techniques? Why was her smile so decidedly encouraging? The sudden expectations made no sense.

She smiled. "Don't worry, just paint."

In a daze, I assembled my supplies the way the older students did. I was scared. I knew everything but nothing. And even in those first blissful moments of experimentation, it hurt to realize that my painting was all wrong. The gleam of light. The distorted reflection. A thousand details taunted me with their refusal to melt into the glass. The vase was lifeless at best.

As the draining hours of work wore on, I began wearing reckless holes in my mixing plate. It was my fourth hour here. Why had I not received even a single piece of guidance?

At the peak of my frustration, she finally reentered the studio, yawning with excruciating casualness. I felt myself snap.

"I barely know how to hold a brush," I muttered almost aggressively, "how could I possibly have the technique to paint this?"

She looked at me with a shocked innocence that only heightened the feeling of abandonment. "What do you mean you don't have the technique?"

It was as though she failed to realize I was a complete beginner.

And then suddenly she broke into a pitch of urgent obviousness: "What are you doing! Don't you see those details?? There's orange from the wall and light brown from the floor. There's even dark green from that paint box over there. You have to look at the whole picture," she stole a glance at my face of bewilderment, and, sighing, grabbed my paint,stained hand. "Listen, it's not in here," she implored, shaking my captive limb. "It's here." The intensity with which she looked into my eyes was overwhelming.

I returned the gaze emptily. Never had I been so confused…

But over the years I did begin to see. The shades of red and blue in gray concrete, the tints of Phthalo in summer skies, and winter’s Currelean. It was beautiful and illogical. Black was darker with green and red, and white was never white.

I began to study animals. The proportions and fan brush techniques were certainly difficult, but they were the simple part. It was the strategic tints of light and bold color that created life. I would spend hours discovering the exact blue that would make a fish seem on the verge of tears and hours more shaping a deer’s ears to speak of serenity instead of danger.

In return for probing into previously ignored details, my canvas and paints opened the world. I began to appreciate the pink kiss of ever-evolving sunsets and the even suppression of melancholy. When my father came home from a business trip, it was no longer a matter of simple happiness, but of fatigue and gladness' underlying shades. The personalities who had once seemed so annoyingly arrogant now turned soft with their complexities of doubt and inspiration. Each mundane scene is as deep and varied as the paint needed to capture it.

One day, I will learn to paint people. As I run faster into the heart of art and my love for politics and law, I will learn to see the faces behind each page of cold policy text, the amazing innovation sketched in the tattered Constitution, and the progressiveness living in oak-paneled courts.

It won’t be too far. I know that in a few years I will see a thousand more colors than I do today. Yet the most beautiful part about art is that there is no end. No matter how deep I penetrate its shimmering realms, the enigmatic caverns of wonder will stay.

. 官方點評

我最喜歡的文書(shu) ，從(cong) 一個(ge) 小的事情開始，最後將這個(ge) 小事情和世界更大的真相聯係起來。伊麗(li) 莎白就巧妙地用了這一手法。

文章開始她用對話把讀者帶場景，分享了讓場景生動的細節，但跳過了背景和解釋。這些解釋可能會(hui) 讓讀者厭煩。

SPARC的論文寫(xie) 作方法說，好的文書(shu) 要能展示學生如果做好這五件事中的至少一件：抓住機會(hui) 、克服困難追求目標、提出重要問題、承擔明智的奉獻、用有限的資源創造價(jia) 值。這篇文章就是個(ge) 很好的例子。

他最優(you) 秀的地方在於(yu) 展示作者盡管會(hui) 有沮喪(sang) ，但仍努力解決(jue) 問題，追求自己的目標。

繪畫的經曆不僅(jin) 讓作者欣賞到夕陽色彩的美，也讓她明白生活中沒有什麽(me) 是黑白的，她把藝術興(xing) 趣與(yu) 政治科學聯係在一起，讓她的形象更為(wei) 亮眼。

 

Alex：北京地鐵見聞

I entered the surprisingly cool car. Since when is Beijing Line 13 air-conditioned? I’ll take it. At four o’clock in the afternoon only about twenty people were in the subway car. “At least it’s not crowded,” one might have thought. Wrong. The pressure of their eyes on me filled the car and smothered me. “看看！她是外國人！”(Look, look! She’s a foreigner!) An old man very loudly whispered to a child curled up in his lap. “Foreigner,” he called me. I hate that word, “foreigner.” It only explains my exterior. If only they could look inside.…

They would know that I actually speak Chinese—not just speak, but love. They would know that this love was born from my first love of Latin—the language that fostered my admiration of all languages. Latin lives in the words we speak around the world today. And translating this ancient language is like watching a play and performing in it at the same time. Each word is an adventure, and on the journey through Virgil’s Aeneid I found that I am more like Aeneas than any living, dead, or fictional hero I know. We share the intrinsic value of loyalty to friends, family, and society. We stand true to our own word, and we uphold others to theirs. Like Aeneas’s trek to find a new settlement for his collapsed Troy, with similar perseverance I, too, wander the seas for my own place in the world. Language has helped me do that.

If these subway passengers understood me, they would know that the very reason I sat beside them was because of Latin. Even before Aeneas and his tale, I met Caecilius and Grumio, characters in my first Latin textbook. In translations I learned grammar alongside Rome’s rich history. I realized how learning another language could expose me to other worlds and other people—something that has always excited me. I also realized that if I wanted to know more about the world and the people in it, I would have to learn a spoken language. Spanish, despite the seven years of study prior to Latin, did not stick with me. And the throatiness of French was not appealing. But Chinese, more than these other traditional languages, intrigued me. The doors to new worlds it could open seemed endless. Thus I chose Chinese.

If these subway passengers looked inside me, they would find that my knowledge of both Latin and Chinese makes me feel whole. It feels like the world of the past is flowing through me alongside the world of the future. Thanks to Latin, Chinese sticks in my mind like the Velcro on the little boy’s shoes in front of me. If this little boy and his family and friends could look inside, they would understand that Latin laid the foundation for my lifelong commitment to languages. Without words, thoughts and actions would be lost in the space between our ears. To them, I am a foreigner, “外國人” literally translated as “out-of-country person.” I feel, however, more like an advena, the Latin word for “foreigner,” translated as “(one who) comes to (this place).” I came to this place, and I came to this country to stay. Unfortunately, they will not know this until I speak. Then once I speak, the doors will open.

. 官方點評

文書(shu) 的目的有兩(liang) 個(ge) ：讓招生官深入了解到申請材料外的你，同時證明你的寫(xie) 作能力。這樣表明你有能力成為(wei) 招生官所在學校的好學生。

亞(ya) 曆克斯以一種有趣的方式實現這兩(liang) 個(ge) 目標。老實說作為(wei) 一個(ge) 會(hui) 五種語言的人，我不完全同意她對語言的評估，但她引起我的好奇，我想繼續讀。

提到身份認同，很多學生會(hui) 誤以為(wei) 要寫(xie) 出一些感人肺腑的故事，但我不這麽(me) 認為(wei) ，作為(wei) 一名招生工作者，我很欣賞Alex的做法——講述如何利用自己的“外國人身份”創造出一個(ge) 學習(xi) 的機會(hui) 或一個(ge) 改變的契機，這種謙虛且開放的態度，是一個(ge) 優(you) 秀學生必不可少的特質。

她的行文結構很清晰，即便運用了中文，也沒有語法和拚寫(xie) 錯誤，證明她的寫(xie) 作底子很硬。這就是我看這篇文書(shu) 的整體(ti) 感受。

通過以上優(you) 秀申請文書(shu) ，我們(men) 可以總結出一些哈佛大學的錄取特點：

堅持種族平等與(yu) 多樣

優(you) 秀文書(shu) 來自不同種族的學生，有亞(ya) 裔、韓裔、白人等不同種族和文化背景。

鮮活地展現成長的故事

這些故事或是以小見大 、突出思考，或是通過個(ge) 人興(xing) 趣展現獨特之處，或是借助“高光時刻”展示抱負和誌趣……但不外乎自我認知、興(xing) 趣愛好、以及未來期許等角度。

展示在成長中的深刻思考

招生官點評文書(shu) 時最常用的詞是“成長”、“反省”以及“真情實感”。無論是寫(xie) 對書(shu) 法的熱愛，還是寫(xie) 文化和宗教的探索，同學們(men) 都展現了自我成長過程中的深刻反思與(yu) 收獲。

哈佛文書(shu) 在題材真實獨特的基礎上緊抓“反思”“成長”“創意”三個(ge) 關(guan) 鍵詞，在反思中體(ti) 現解決(jue) 問題的積極態度，用有細節的經曆去反映成長，在布局中彰顯巧妙的創意。

好的文書(shu) 是拉近你和招生官距離的捷徑。