中國有高考作文，同樣申請美國大學(xué)也要寫作文。與高考的在規(guī)定的時間內(nèi)寫出一篇不少于八百字的作文不同，美國大學(xué)的文書在申請遞交前可以反復(fù)修改。高考作文只占語文成績里的一項，但是美國申請文書則不同，文書對于申請至關(guān)重要，可能因為一篇文書，低分收到Offer“逆風(fēng)翻盤”、也可能高分被脆拒等等。
一起看看那些被哈佛、哥大等名校錄取的學(xué)生都是如何寫自己的文書的吧！
關(guān)于意面的essay
這是一篇今年哥倫比亞大學(xué)錄取學(xué)生的文書。
作者說，他苦苦掙扎了很久才寫出了這篇文章，還開玩笑的問他朋友自己寫了一篇關(guān)于意面的essay怎么辦。作者對于意大利面的熱愛到達了一個執(zhí)著的程度，他也很欣賞自己有這個想法。所以他決定承擔(dān)風(fēng)險，進行這個冒險的嘗試。
Essay全文：
I love pasta.
我喜歡吃意面。
I’m not Italian, nor do I know anyone who is. I’m a half-Polish, half-German kid from Boulder, Colorado. I should instead crave perogies, wienerschnitzel, or maybe vegan avocado toast sprinkled with microgreens.
我不是意大利人，并且也不認識任何意大利人。我是一個來自科羅拉多州博爾德市，半波蘭半德國血統(tǒng)的孩子。比起意面來，我更應(yīng)該喜歡吃波蘭餃子、維也納炸肉排、或是撒著嫩青的酪梨烤面包。
So why exactly do I love pasta? Memories.
所以，我喜歡意面的由來又是什么呢？因為回憶。
When I was seven, my favorite restaurant, Noodles, had mac-n-cheese that was legendary. However, it played second fiddle to Pasta Fresca, my little secret that hid down on the bottom right of the menu. I would order it every time, exactly the same: extra tomatoes, half spinach, double feta. Perfection.
在我七歲的時候，我喜歡一間名為Noodles的餐廳，他們有著無與倫比的芝士焗通心粉。但是對于Pasta Fresca的餐廳來說，他們只能屈居第二。我把這個秘密藏在了菜單的最深處。每次我都想點同一道菜，提出同樣的要求：雙倍羊乳酪，加倍西紅柿，多半份菠菜，完美。
But with my insatiable desire for perfection, came complications; it was impossible for a seven-year-old to routinely find his way to Noodles, come up with $8.50, and convince the cashier that No, I am not lost, and Yes, I know the feta will cost extra. Therefore, I had to get creative. Armed with a to-go menu and one brief shopping trip later, I attempted to make Pasta Fresca. I unfortunately learned, however, that an ingredient list alone contains no indication of measurement; a teaspoon quickly turns into a tablespoon. The result was a soupy, vinegary mess. That magic touch, that fresca, was missing. In fact, calling it Pasta Fresca would’ve been a crime. But it was my own–I made that pasta and there was something powerful in that.
然而我對完美的近乎執(zhí)著的追求，卻不是那么容易所能實現(xiàn)的。對于一個七歲的小男孩來說，拿著8.5美金，獨自找到去Noodles的路，還要說服收銀員：“不，我并不是走丟了”和“是，我知道再加一份羊乳酪會額外收費”，這簡直是天方夜譚。因此，我只能開足腦筋來嘗試做一份Pasta Fresca。在帶著便攜菜單購物之后，我遺憾的發(fā)現(xiàn)，材料表上并沒有標注出合適的分量。我只能在茶匙抑或湯匙的計量中苦苦掙扎。最后的成果只是一團糟，一團像湯一樣酸乎乎的東西。應(yīng)有的鮮美，應(yīng)現(xiàn)的魔法，都不見了。實際上，這一團酸乎乎的東西，壓根就配不上Pasta Fresca這個名字。但，這是只屬于我自己的Pasta Fresca——這是我親手做的意面，我為我自己能做出它而感到驕傲。
Five years later, that warm glow of pride of my foray into Pasta Fresca was long gone. I had hit rock bottom. It was winter and I was living with my best friend. Sledding, snowball fights, and hot cocoa filled our days. So, how does a twelve-year-old living his dream hit rock bottom?
五年后，第一次做意面的自豪感早已消逝，我落入了人生的谷底。那是一個冬天，我和我最好的朋友一起生活。我們的日子被滑雪橇，打雪仗和熱巧克力所填滿。是什么能讓一個十二歲的活在夢里的孩子突然墜入人生的谷底呢？
Cancer.
癌癥。
My brother Klaus was diagnosed with a rare form of childhood sarcoma that forced my family to New York City for treatment, while I was stuck in cold Colorado. Days bled into weeks, weeks into months of simply grinding away at school, craving the comfort of sleep, where I could forget my anxiety for a while. My sole comfort, the one thing that turned the worst of weeks into something bearable, was Gruffalo Pasta. Contrary to the name, it contained no mythical beast; it was simply penne with meat sauce, and yet there was something magical about it. Every Friday night, my friend’s family and I would sit down and eat Gruffalo Pasta with their famous garlic cheesy bread (worthy of its own essay). Laughs rang out as we played games, watched movies, and went sledding–we would be a family. Although my real family was thousands of miles away, every Friday night, home felt tangible.
我的弟弟Klaus被診斷出患有一種罕見的兒童惡性肉瘤，迫使我們?nèi)?，除了我，搬去紐約為他治病。而我則被留在了寒冷的科羅拉多。時光飛逝，日月如梭。每當(dāng)白天我便獨自一人在學(xué)校消磨著時間，渴望著睡眠時的溫暖。只有在入睡后，我才能暫時的遠離我的焦慮。還好，起碼我有Gruffalo（直譯為咕嚕牛） Pasta在，給我最后的安慰，陪我度過最難熬的時光。恰恰和它的名字相反，這種意面和什么神秘怪獸沒有絲毫聯(lián)系，就是由簡簡單單的肉醬和通心粉所制成，可其中卻又有些許的神奇之處。每當(dāng)周五傍晚，我會和我朋友的家人坐在一起，配上可口的芝士蒜蓉面包（這芝士蒜蓉面包其中的故事，待日后我為你娓娓道來）分享Gruffalo Pasta。隨著我們一起玩游戲，看電影，滑雪橇——就好像我們是一家人一樣。即使，我真正的家人們與我相隔了幾千英里，“家”這個詞對我來說，也從虛無縹緲的詞匯變成了觸手可及的東西。
When my family returned, spring gave way to summer, and with it came neverending afternoons of skinned knees, balls lost over fences, new neighborhood friends, and Mac n’ Cheese. We ripped through box after box, new faces cycling through the kitchen as mac n’ cheese lunches became a neighborhood tradition. There was a sense of independence that came with it, as us kids cooked it ourselves–exactly how we liked it. We added extra butter and milk, peas, chicken, bacon; whatever our little hearts desired. The days seemed infinite, brimming with possibility and spontaneity, with the comfort that there was always a mac n’ cheese lunch at someone’s house to look forward to.
當(dāng)我的家人回到科羅拉多之時，春去夏來。隨之而來的，還有仿佛無盡的午后。我們肆無忌憚的玩著，鬧著，擦破了膝蓋，踢飛了皮球。當(dāng)然，還有新搬來的鄰居，和芝士焗通心粉。我們孩子在紙箱之間打鬧，在各家廚房穿梭，芝士焗通心粉成了鄰里關(guān)系中不可或缺的一部分。我們小孩子自己做的時候，就會喜歡什么加什么。多加黃油，多放牛奶，豌豆，雞肉，培根，我們想放什么，就放什么。隨之而來的，就是一種自由自在，當(dāng)家作主的快感。這種日子似乎就可以一直這么持續(xù)下去，給我們無窮的可能和無盡的動力。我們總知道，總會有下一家的芝士焗通心粉，可以讓我們發(fā)揮一場。
Pasta continues to weave its thread through my life, from the Christmas dinners of Pasta Puttanesca, my pesto business started in 8th grade, gifts of exotic pasta and sauces for my birthday, to the cross-country team’s pasta parties. Pasta is a narrative tightly intertwined with that of my own. It’s been said that one should look for good in the world, whether it be memories, hope for the future, or simple joys, find that good that drives your every day. I say you need look no further than what is in front of you. I found that goodness in a bowl of pasta.
意面繼續(xù)編織著我的生活。從圣誕晚宴的Pasta Putanesca，到八年級的香蒜醬買賣，亦或是我生日禮物得到的各種風(fēng)味的意面和醬料，直至跨國風(fēng)情的意面派對。意面串聯(lián)起了我的人生中的每一環(huán)。有人說，人們應(yīng)該在世界上尋找美好，無論是過往的回憶，或是對未來的希望，還是簡簡單單的快樂，找到那個可以給你動力讓你為之奮斗的事情?？晌覅s認為，在四處尋覓之前，先看清眼前的一切吧。而我所看到的，就是一碗意面給我的美好。
關(guān)于內(nèi)衣的文書
這是一篇被哈佛大學(xué)錄取學(xué)生的文書，本來不打算申請哈佛的，她覺得自己不夠優(yōu)秀，準備也不充分，所以在申請大學(xué)時，哈佛是她最后一刻才加到申請名單里的，因為哈佛的申請流程太簡單了，不試一下簡直浪費！
她直接拿申請芝加哥大學(xué)時寫的一篇談?wù)搩?nèi)衣的作品交了上去…然而，就是這一篇選題有些“非主流”的文章，卻獲得了哈佛招生官的青睞。
I remember the first time I wore a bra. I came home from school in the fifth grade, and my mom handed me a white cloth to put on beneath my shirt. “You’re a big girl now,” she said, “You need to wear this.” From that moment on, my life was forever changed.
我回憶自己第一次穿內(nèi)衣的時候：那是五年級放學(xué)后的一天，母親將我拉到一旁，遞上一片白色布狀的東西，吩咐她穿在身上：“你是個大女孩了，你得穿上它。”那一刻，我覺得自己的人生就此被改變了。
That same year, I was taught that the sun would someday die, and I, feeling the pressure of the contraption beneath my shirt, realized that my childhood, too, would eventually dissipate just like the sun.
自從胸前多了這個不太舒服的玩意兒，緊貼于襯衫之下，勒著自己的胸，總有一股隱隱的壓力，似乎無時無刻不在提醒著我：無憂無慮的童年已經(jīng)過去了。
The first bra paved way for a second, and then a third, and then, by the fourth bra I had advanced to the Lady Type, the ones that my mom wore.
內(nèi)衣就這樣進入了我的生活。 第一件內(nèi)衣用了沒多久就下崗了，隨之而來的是第二件、第三件，到了第四件的時候，我已經(jīng)穿上了成人碼，就是自己媽媽穿的那種。
With every new bra, I cast away the former. Somewhere in the dark abyss of my closet, there is a heap of abandoned bras, tiny, worn-out filaments that had once shone so brightly in their days of use, but had faded away into old, neglected remnants of days long gone. They sit against a corner of the universe and gather dust like dead stars— without life, without luster, without vigor.
內(nèi)衣的更換似乎在告訴我一種定律：當(dāng)新的東西到來的時候，總要跟舊的說再見。所以，舊的內(nèi)衣只能被丟棄在柜子深處，不管以前多么閃耀奪目，現(xiàn)在也只是一堆破舊的邊角料，似乎這就是它們無可更改的宿命，就像墜落在宇宙犄角旮旯里的星星一樣，它們落滿了灰塵，毫無生機，毫無光彩。
With every new bra, I felt the unmerciful hand of change push me further down a path with which I had no return. The bras no longer had the simplicity of the first; they came equipped with more folds and stitches and frills and patterns that were designed to counteract the growing complexity of my responsibilities.
這讓我無比傷感，當(dāng)我想起了自己穿內(nèi)衣的那一天，一樣是沒有選擇的余地，沒有說No的權(quán)利，這和那些被丟棄的內(nèi)衣有什么兩樣？
于是，每換一件新的內(nèi)衣，這種失落感就加重一分，我覺得自己似乎被強行推著，走到越來越遙遠的地方，沒有回頭的余地。 我開始厭惡起了新內(nèi)衣上的那些裝飾：時髦的褶皺，夸張的圖案，繁復(fù)的花邊，一切都是那么的閃亮亮，似乎是為了抵消人生進程中越加越重的擔(dān)子而做出的補償。
Sometimes, when I found myself too big for the current one, I was either unable to or unwilling to get another because of the implications behind the transition—if every new bra meant the death of another star, then the adult world was nothing to me but a lifetime of darkness. I tried so hard not to kill any more stars, but my resistance was not enough, and I found myself adding layer after layer to the ever-increasing pile of bras. With this mindset, I prepared myself for the end, for the moment in which my entire universe would be engulfed by the black hole forming in my closet.
終于，我開始抵抗穿新內(nèi)衣：“有時，即使我發(fā)現(xiàn)內(nèi)衣太小，該換了，我仍然不愿意換新的，因為這意味著新的來了，就得跟舊的說再見。如果世界是按這么一個定律運轉(zhuǎn)，那對我來說還有什么生存的意義？”
然而，這種無畏的抵抗并沒起太大作用，柜子里被丟棄的內(nèi)衣依舊越積越多，就像黑洞一樣在吸蝕著自己，我漸漸泄了氣，準備著被這樣一個黑洞吞噬。
But I was saved.
但是有一條，我終于想通了。
I learned that life does not occur linearly, but in cycles: New stars can arise from the ashes of former ones, and the darkness of death is replenished by the light of birth. Thus, what is created is only a reinterpretation of the past in a form that is fitted for the present. In wearing a new bra, I was not casting away my old self but reorienting myself to accommodate to changing times.
我發(fā)現(xiàn)，生命并不是單純的線性運轉(zhuǎn)，而是像一個圈，有著周而復(fù)始的循環(huán)：就拿自己心愛的星星來說，新的星星是從那些已經(jīng)燃盡的星星灰燼里重生的，因此換個角度看，死亡所帶來的黑暗其實也暗暗蘊含著生的光芒。穿上一件新的內(nèi)衣，并不是對舊內(nèi)衣的拋棄，而是對生活的變化本身所給予的一種回應(yīng)。
Change, as overwhelming as it feels, is only natural—the pile of bras will only get bigger. Though it is hard to accept the existence of the bra in my life, I realize that I cannot live without it, for, as we grow older, things tend to droop more easily, and there is nothing more reliable than a bra to give us the inner support necessary to have a firm hold on life.
變化，盡管對每個人來說都是壓力重重，但這卻是自然規(guī)律。我想，柜子里的那一堆內(nèi)衣無論如何都減少不了了，雖然我很難接受這一點，但我不得不承認，隨著年齡的增加，下垂會變得很厲害，我也需要新的內(nèi)衣，畢竟這世上沒什么能比一件內(nèi)衣帶來更堅挺的依托了。
你的文書有思路了嗎？
整理自：SAT考試網(wǎng)，誠意推薦
你的文書有思路了嗎？如果還有疑問，不妨添加“51offer留學(xué)小助手”（搜索微信號：offer2963），你想知道的留學(xué)問題，這里都有答案。
