對申請人來說，在標準化考試成績相差無幾的情況下，如果想從眾多申請者中脫穎而出、順利申請到心儀的名校，就需要在文書方面下足了功夫。可以毫不夸張的說，文書是否精彩出眾，在某種程度上可以直接影響到你最終的申請結果。

但很多申請者在極其痛苦難熬的文書寫作過程里，都絞盡腦汁，幾近抓狂。翻來覆去之后，還是覺得自己十七八歲的人生里，一無是處，沒有任何了不起的大事可以敘述。對此，哈維·穆德學院的招生辦主任Peter Osgood一針見血地指出，這個問題的關鍵在于——你是如何呈現你的文字的，你是不是一個會講故事的人。學生有時會問：“我要怎樣才能寫出一份真的很棒的申請文書呢?”Peter的答復是：有些人可以把很普通的話題寫成一篇動人的文章，也有些人可以把一段有趣的經歷寫得讓人讀起來乏味無比。

那么如何寫出一篇好的文書呢?招生官到底期待什么樣的文書?想找一些優秀文書作為參考?作為一所享譽全球的高校——哈佛大學在官網上公布了10篇優秀Essay范文。下面節選了其中三篇，附上了學生檔案，一起看看學霸們的文書吧~

1、亞裔Bobby

ESSAY正文

Bold white rafters ran overhead,bearing upon their great iron shoulders the weight of the skylight above.Late evening rays streamed through these sprawling glass panes,casting a gentle glow upon all that they graced—paper and canvases and paintbrushes alike.As day became night,the soft luminescence of the art studio gave way to a fluorescent glare,defining the clean rectilinear lines of Dillon Art Center against the encroaching darkness.It was a studio like no other.Modern.Sophisticated.Professional.

And it was clean and white and nice.

But it just wasn't it.

Because to me,there was only one"it,"and"it"was a little less than two thousand miles west,an unassuming little office building located amidst a cluster of similarly unassuming little office buildings,distinguishable from one another on the outside only by the rusted numbers nailed to each door.Inside,crude photocopies of students'artwork plastered the once white walls.Those few openings in between the tapestry of art were dotted with grubby little handprints,repurposed by some overzealous young artist as another surface for creative expression.In the middle of the room lay two long tables,each covered with newspaper,upon which were scattered dried-up markers and lost erasers and bins of unwanted colored pencils.These were for the younger children.The older artists—myself included—sat around these tables with easels,in whatever space the limited confines of the studio allowed.The instructor sometimes talked,and we sometimes listened.Most of the time,though,it was just us—children,drawing and talking and laughing and sweating in the cluttered and overheated mess of an art studio.

No,it was not so clean and not so white and not so nice.But I have drawn—rather,lived—in this studio for most of my past ten years.I suppose this is strange,as the rest of my life can best be characterized by everything the studio is not:cleanliness and order and structure.But then again,the studio was like nothing else in my life,beyond anything in which I've ever felt comfortable or at ease.

Sure,I was frustrated at first.My carefully composed sketchbooks—the proportions just right,the contrast perfected,the whiteness of the background meticulously preserved—were often marred by the frenzied strokes of my instructor's charcoal as he tried to teach me not to draw accurately,but passionately.I hated it.But thus was the fundamental gap in my artistic understanding—the difference between the surface realities that I wanted to depict,and the profound though elusive truths of the human condition that art could explore.It was the difference between drawing a man's face and using abstraction to explore his soul.

And I can't tell you exactly when or why my attitude changed,but eventually my own lines began to unabashedly disregard the rules of depth or tonality to which I had once dutifully adhered,my fervor leaving in its wake black fingerprints and smudges where once had existed unsoiled whiteness.It was in this studio that I eventually made the leap into a new realm of art—a realm in which I was neither experienced nor comfortable.Apart from surface manifestations altogether,this realm was simultaneously one of austere simplicity and aesthetic intricacy,of departure from realism and immersion in reality,of intense emotion and uninhibited expression.It was the realm of lines that could tell stories,of colors and figures that meant nothing and everything.

Indeed,it was the realm of disorder and messy studios and true art—a place where I could express the world like I saw it,in colors and strokes unrestrained by expectations or rules;a place where I could find refuge in the contours of my own chaotic lines;a place that was neither beautiful nor ideal,but real.

No,it was not so clean and not so white and not so nice.

But then again,neither is art.

點評：文章最突出的是意象組合，運用“Late evening rays...casting a gentle glow”，“the soft luminescence of the art studio...a fluorescent glare”將讀者迅速帶入作品，立馬領會文章主題：藝術。這篇文章最吸引人的地方在于它是一個成長的故事，記錄了Bobby從孩童到青少年的成長，藝術創作也從有序、淺顯走向抽象、深刻。

2、保加利亞的Jessica

ESSAY正文

As a child raised on two continents,my life has been defined by the“What if…?”question.What if I had actually been born in the United States?What if my parents had not won that Green card?What if we had stayed in the USA and had not come back to Bulgaria?These are the questions whose answers I will never know(unless,of course,they invent a time machine by 2050).

“Born in Bulgaria,lived in California,currently lives in Bulgaria”is what I always write in the About Me section of an Internet profile.Hidden behind that short statement is my journey of discovering where I belong.

My parents moved to the United States when I was two years old.For the next four years it was my home country.I was an American.I fell in love with Dr.Seuss books and the PBS Kids TV channel,Twizzlers and pepperoni,Halloweens and Thanksgivings the yellow school bus and the“Good job!”stickers.

It took just one day for all of that to disappear.When my mother said“We are moving back to Bulgaria,”I naively asked,“Is that a town or a state?”

Twenty hours later I was standing in the middle of an empty room,which itself was in the middle of an unknown country.

It was then that the“what if”—my newly imagined adversary—made its first appearance.It began to follow me on my way to school.It sat right behind me in class.No matter what I was doing,I could sense its ubiquitous presence.

The“what if”slowly took its time over the years.Just when it seemed to have faded away,it reappeared resuming its tormenting influence on me—a constant reminder of all that could have been.What if I had won that national competition in the United States?What if I joined a Florida tennis club?What if I became a part of an American non-governmental organization?Would I value my achievements more if I had continued riding that yellow school bus every morning?

But something—at first unforeseen and vastly unappreciated—gradually worked its way into my heart and mind loosening the tight grip of the“what if”—Bulgaria.I rediscovered my home country—hours spent in the library reading about Bulgaria’s history spreading over fourteen centuries,days reading books and comparing the Glagolitic and Cyrillic scripts,years traveling to some of the most remote corners of my country.It was a cathartic experience and with it finally came the discovery and acceptance of who I am.

I no longer feel the need to decide where I belong.I am like a football fan that roots for both teams during the game.(If John Isner ever plays a tennis match against Grigor Dimitrov,I will definitely be like that fan.)Bulgaria and the USA are not mutually exclusive.Instead,they complement each other in me,whether it be through incorporating English words in my daily speech,eating my American pancakes with Bulgarian white brine cheese,or still having difficulty communicating through gestures(we Bulgarians are notoriously famous for shaking our heads side to side when we mean“yes”and nodding to mean“no).

As a child raised on two continents,my life will be defined by the“What…?”question.What have Bulgaria and the USA given me?What can I give them back?What does the future hold for me?This time,I will not need a time machine to find the answers I am seeking.

點評：美國VS保加利亞，學者VS網球運動員……Jessica闡述了自己關于“身份認同”的心理變化，這是一篇“將潛在困難轉變為積極因素”的典型大學Essay，面對生活中的“what if假設”，從起初的懊惱，到后面的轉變心態，用“重新發現”來積極應對。

3、亞裔Phillip

ESSAY正文

The summer after my freshman year,I found myself in an old classroom holding a blue dry erase-marker,realizing what should have been obvious:I had no idea how to be a teacher.As an active speech and debate competitor,I was chosen as a volunteer instructor for an elementary public speaking camp hosted by my high school.For the first time,I would have the opportunity to experience the classroom from the other side of the teacher’s desk.My responsibility was simple:in two weeks,take sixteen fifth graders and turn them into confident,persuasive speakers.

I walked into class the first morning,enthusiastically looking forward to the opportunity to share my knowledge,experiences,and stories.I was hoping for motivated kids,eager to learn,attentive to my every word.

I was on the other side of the teacher’s desk,but I hadn’t stopped learning.Each day,I was learning how to communicate more effectively,how to deal with new challenges and circumstances,and how to be a better teacher.I once thought that being an adult meant knowing all the answers.But in reality,adults,even teachers,constantly have more to learn.I made the transition away from being a child during those weeks,but I did not and would not transition away from being a learner.

When class ended each afternoon,I would cap my blue dry-erase marker,give high-fives to the students as they walked out the door,and watch as their parents picked them up.I was confident that when my students were asked the inevitable questions of“Did you learn something today?”and“Did you have fun?”their answers would be a resounding yes.And even as their teacher,I learned and had fun too.

Instead,I got Spencer,who thought class was a good time to train his basketball skills by tossing crumpled speeches into the trash can from afar.I got Monica,who refused to speak,and I got James,who didn’t understand the difference between“voice projection”and“screaming.”I got London,who enjoyed doodling on her desk with permanent marker,and I got Arnav,who thought I wouldn’t notice him playing Angry Birds all day.The only questions I got were“When’s lunch break?”and“Why are you giving us homework?”and the only time I got my students to raise their hands was when I asked“How many of you are only here because your parents forced you to?”

Just ten minutes into class,two things hit me:Spencer’s crumpled paper ball,and the realization that teaching was hard.

When I was younger,I thought that a good teacher was one that gave high-fives after class.Later,of course,I knew it was far more complicated than that.I thought about teachers I admired and their memorable qualities.They were knowledgeable,enthusiastic,and inspiring.Their classes were always fun,and they always taught me something.

There was plenty I wanted to teach,from metaphors to logical fallacies.But most importantly,I wanted my students to enjoy public speaking,to love giving speeches as much as I did.And that’s when I realized the most important quality of my favorite teachers:passion.They loved their subject and passed that love on to their students.While it wouldn’t be easy,I wanted to do the same.

Every day for two weeks,I searched for creative ways to inspire and teach my students.I helped London speak on her love for art;I had Arnav debate about cell phone policies in schools.And by the end of the camp,I realized that my sixteen students all saw me not as a high school student,but as a teacher.I took their questions,shared my enthusiasm,and by the time camp was over,they weren’t just learning,but enjoying learning.

點評：這篇essay主題是經過慎重考慮的：作者沒有用華麗的功績讓我們眼花繚亂，也沒想著炫耀取得成就的廣度和深度。相反，選擇了一個簡單的小故事，依靠在公共演講訓練營與孩子們一起工作的經歷，突顯個人成長。此外，Phillip的文章自信且清晰，他是在講故事，而不是炫耀吹牛。

這些文書，沒有華麗辭藻，但每篇都有自己的個性，都告訴招生官你是一個怎樣的人。

很多中國學生喜歡堆砌辭藻，展示自己“完美”的履歷，以為這種文書一定很棒。但是很多時候，你以為了不起的文書可能根本不出挑。

正如中國學生已經對美國大學的文書套路爛熟于心一樣，招生官們也早已洞察了中國學生的文書套路。

加州大學洛杉磯分校前招生官Christian Tanja無奈地坦言，他已經很難在中國學生的文書里說出一個出挑的故事，因為他們的故事幾乎都是千篇一律的：『我看中國學生的申請材料時常常覺得他們寫得都差不多，他們的分數都很高，學術知識也很扎實，甚至連課外活動都安排得很系統。你總是可以看到他們參加“根與芽”項目，在“仁人家園”做公益，或者在安徽省的志愿者經歷。你看到幾乎千篇一律的簡歷和文書，而這些卻不一定能使人眼前一亮，他們并不一定能讓我了解這個學生個性的獨特之處，他們只是不會出錯的標準答案而已。我不是說這樣的文書有多糟糕，它不會為一個學生扣分，但這種文書也一定不會為他們加分。

不只是Tanja，來自Swarthmore的招生官Andrea Pien對此也深有同感，她笑說：“做志愿者，這當然是個不錯的話題。但幾乎每一個人都說自己做過志愿者。”

而在Parke Muth看來，這其中的誤區在于：要想讓自己的故事給人留下深刻的印象，人們通常都會順理成章地把自己做過的最杰出的事情說給別人聽。然而這卻并不能使他們脫穎而出。Parke Muth解釋道：對于多數17、18歲的年輕人，你們杰出的經歷其實大同小異。而大家并沒有意識到這一點。即便你在高中表現優異，不要忘記，還有其他許許多多的人在高中也一樣是佼佼者。所以你需要全面仔細地衡量。不要僅僅因為你是高中模聯社的社長就覺得自己很了不起，盡管這在中國的確是件很了不起的事情，但它并不能真正打動別人，因為還有成百上千的人也把他們在模聯社的活動當作很了不起的經歷。他們以為這能使他們的文書脫穎而出，但其實并沒有。

這并不是說，學生會與志愿者經歷沒有意義，而是提醒大家：不要讓文書陷入格式化和程序化之中。假如這些確實是你的熱情所在，你的經歷必然會對你的成長有所幫助。然而，如果你只是復制與模仿過去成功的案例，那么這些所謂“杰出”的標簽本身并沒有絲毫用處，反而會讓你看起來不那么“真實”。

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