College Essay系列（三十九）：2023 哈佛成功文书（3-4）

前篇：

2023 哈佛成功文书（1-2）Georgina 的《Lemonade with no Lemon》和 Abby 的《Family at Barnes & Noble》

 

本篇：2023 哈佛成功文书（3-4）

本篇来读读2023哈佛成功文书的第三、第四这两篇

 

第三篇，Marina的《Backyard Four Corners》

It's 8AM. Dew blankets the grass under my bare feet as my small hands grasp the metal of the backyard fence. I lift my heels, summoning enormous power in my tiny lungs as I blare out a daily wake-up call: ""GIRLS!"" Waiting with anticipation for those familiar faces to emerge from their homes, my mind bursts with ideas eager for exploration.

Years later, at the corner of our yards, gates magically appeared; an open invitation connecting the backyards of four mismatched homes. The birth of the ""Four Corners"" inevitably developed into lifelong friendships and became the North Star in the lives of absolute strangers who have become family. As parents bonded at the gates, discussing everything from diapers to first dates, the kids took advantage of overlooked bedtimes and late night movies. Today, I launch into adulthood with the imagination, leadership, and confidence born from adolescent adventures.

Behind corner #1 lived the Irish neighbors, where I embarked on a culinary exploration of corned beef and cabbage served during the annual St. Patty's celebrations. My taste buds awakened with the novelty of a peculiar dish that seemed to dismiss the health hazards of sodium chloride, an element that conjures up mental images of chemistry experiments. With U2 playing on the speaker, and parents enjoying a pint of Guinness, adolescents discussed inventions that could lead us to a pot of gold; from apps that would revolutionize the music industry, to building a keg cooler from a rubber trash can (and yes, we actually tried that). Endless playtime and conversations fueled the gene of curiosity which molded my creative thinking and imagination.

Behind corner #2, vibrant Italians cheered on the creation of zip lines and obstacle courses, which taught me a thing or two about Newton's Laws of Motion. Body aches from brutal stops provided lessons in physics that prompted modifications. This inventive spirit during backyard projects required testing, redesigning, and rebuilding. I wanted to conquer the yard and use every square inch of it. My swimming pool hosted ""Olympic Games"", where the makeshift springboard I built would have made Michael Phelps proud. I dove into projects, disregarding smashed fingers and small fires. Through persistence and sheer will, repeated failures became a source of progress for all to enjoy. These lessons served me well when diving into the Odyssey of the Mind Competitions.

Corners #3 and #4, where Cuban roots run deep, entertained countless activities opening a world of learning and exploration. 1AM backyard stargazing encouraged my curiosity; the night sky like a blank slate, ready to be lit up with discovery. Through the eye of the telescope, I traced stars that were millions of miles away, yet filled my tent like fairy lights. Questions merged in a combinatorial explosion that only led to more questions. Could a black hole really cause spaghettification? Do the whispered echoes of dead stars give a clue to how old our universe truly is? Years later, at the FPL Energy, Power, and Sustainability Lab, conversations about smart grids, electric vehicles, and a possible colonization of the moon would take me back to that backyard camping, propelling my desire for exploration.

In my little pocket of the world, I embrace the unexpected coincidence that struck 20 years ago, when four families collided at the same exact moment in space and time. My Four Corners family, with their steadfast presence and guidance, cultivated love, maturity, risk-taking, and teamwork. Through my adventures, I became a dreamer, an inventor, an innovator, and a leader. Now, fostering my love for learning, spirit of giving back, and drive for success, I seek new adventures. Just as I walked through the magical gates of my beloved Four Corners, I will now walk through transformational thresholds to continue on a journey that began as a girl, at a fence, with a heart full of hope and a head full of possibilities.

 

对于这篇文书，Crimson以“immersive account” on experiences of daily odds来评价其写作手法，也给出“excellent”的评估。对于自己PO出来的文章，Crimson自然都是给出优评的。Marina的故事细节是”full of five senses”的。Touch到晨露的湿润、hear到少女的欢呼、smell到和taste到各种美味的烹调，see到夜空的星星闪烁，等等。虽然Crimson也看到了这篇的短处，即对不同文化（Irish和Italian）背景的stereotype和文字上的过多形、副词（modifier），但能在充满想象的、对日常景物的描述中，融入了作者的STEM兴趣，Crimson认为这篇还算是难得的。

从凸某角度看，这篇也是一篇普通的文书。这篇的长处，是从普通的日常事物上做文章，给故事长出有价值的个人成长价值。但她的选材，backyard，又确实缺乏让人耳目一新的感受。你可以把这篇，与2016年Brittany的《Costco》一文比较，两篇写法类似，但这篇的选材比《Costco》明显差了一大截了。Costco入文，在当年算是既熟悉又新鲜的。熟悉在于它对中产来说的daily属性，新鲜在于此前尚没人把它写做文书主题过。Backyard 则属于平常主题了。不信你可以Google一下，“Backyard Essay”会产生无穷多的结果，但“Costco Essay”的搜索结果里，仍然只是Brittany的那篇爆文。

文章的结构上，显得简单且平常。1-2-3-4的结构模式看起来像是laundry list，这是小学生就具有的结构能力。而写成这篇这样的文字水平，优秀的初中毕业生就能做到了。凸某的给分是B。

 

第四篇，Una的《See without Looking》

The first word I ever spoke was my name. I was intrigued that my entire identity could be attached to and compressed into such a simple sound. I would tell everyone I met that my name meant “one,” that it made me special because it sounded like “unique.” When I learned to write, I covered sheets of paper with the letters U, N, and A. Eventually, I realized that paper was not enough—I needed to cover the world with my name, my graffiti tag.

This came to a screeching halt in kindergarten. One day in music class, I scratched UNA into the piano’s wood. Everyone was surprised that I tagged my name and not someone else’s. I didn’t want someone else to suffer for my misdeeds. I wanted to take something, to make it mine.

Kindergarten was also the year my parents signed me up for piano lessons, and every aspect of them was torture. I had to learn to read an entirely new language, stretch my fingers to fit challenging intervals, use my arms with enough force to sound chords but not topple over, grope around blindly while keeping my eyes on the music, and the brain-splitting feat of doing this with each hand separately. Hardest was the very act of sitting down to practice. The physical challenges were more or less surmountable, but tackling them felt lonely and pointless.

I only fell in love with music when I found myself in a sweaty church on the Upper West Side—my first chamber music concert, the final event of a two-week camp the summer before sixth grade. I was nervous. My group, playing a Shostakovich prelude, was the youngest, so we went first. My legs shook uncontrollably before, during, and after I played. I nearly became sick afterward from shame and relief. I was so disappointed that I thought I could never face my new music friends again. From the front row, I plotted my escape route for when the concert finished. But I didn’t run. I watched the whole concert. I watched the big kids breathe in unison, occupying the same disconnected body. I fell in love with music through the way they belonged to each other, the way they saw each other without even looking.

I stuck with that chamber camp. In the twenty chamber groups that have made up my last six years, I’ve performed in six-inch heels and nearly fallen off-stage during my bow. I’ve performed in sneakers and a sweatshirt, on pianos with half the keys broken and the other half wildly out of tune, in subway stations, nursing homes, international orchestras, Carnegie Hall, and on Zoom.

Chamber music doesn’t work when everyone aims to be a star; it works when everyone lets everyone else shine through. It’s more fun that way. A musical notation I rarely saw before playing chamber music is “una corda,” which says to put the soft pedal down and play on only “one string,” usually to highlight another player’s solo. I don’t need to be the loudest to breathe in unison with my friends, to create something beautiful. In that moment, I’m not just Una, I’m the pianist in the Dohnanyi sextet.

I started to love music only when I realized it doesn’t belong to me. I had to stop trying to make piano my own and take pleasure in sharing it. I learned that the rests in my part were as meaningful as the notes; that although my name means “one,” I’d rather not be the “only.” My favorite compliment I’ve received was that I made an audience member feel like they were sitting onstage next to me. This, to me, is the essence of chamber music. To pull your audience onto the stage, trusting your group isn’t enough—you have to fuse together, to forget you exist. For a few minutes, you have to surrender your name.

 

对于这篇文书，Crimson以“powerful introspect” on one’s “individuality”，“curiosity”，“integrity”和 “responsibility”来评价其故事，也给出“it works”的评估。从自己名字的”独特”性入手，抓住读者眼球，用学习音乐的故事来展示个性的长大，把一个成熟个性所经历的过程，比较真实地叙述出来。其中的vulnerability，比如把自己名字画在公共的钢琴上，以及在Chamber Concert里如滥竽充数的表现和紧张，构成故事的真实性。

从凸某角度看，这篇也是一篇比较好的文书。这篇的长处，是从普通的音乐上做文章，而提炼出的价值，却能超出个人主义范畴，进入集体主义价值观的Sharing 和Belonging。这一点，本文所体现的成长价值是明显的。

这篇的文章结构，仍显得幼稚。本篇用了三分之一的篇幅描述幼儿时的经历，留给故事的转折和升华部分就显得过少了。任何文书故事的起承转合，起和承要精炼短小精干，控制在2段（1/4）篇幅，以免喧宾夺主。转，是故事的重点部分，需要一个既意外又合理的情节来承担。上台只想逃，下台却留看，这个情节既没意外，也不合理。

怎样的情节才意外且合理呢？郑智化《我这样的男人》里有大量这样属性的歌词。比如“我的脚步想要去流浪”“我的心却想考航”，“我的影子想要取飞翔”“我的人还在地上”。这篇，可以把文尾那位feeling onstage的audience member，提前一点写在转折段（第四段）里，让自己在台上看到audience，并从此中悟到台下听众感受的不同于台上表演者之处，从而下台后变身听众从新体验Chamber音乐。关于意外且合理的转折段，我可以写出很多，就不在这篇里多废话了。

这篇的所优之处，在于最后把自己名字这一概念拿出来呼应文首。凸某的给分，是B+。其实，这篇结尾段的内容叙述，显得有点过度表达了。能够产生点睛和升华的效果的写法，是简单的一句，读者既可以意会到的，就像第一篇《没柠檬的柠檬水》。

 

= = = 后 续 内 容 提 纲= = = 

第五篇，Simar 的《First Haircut at Age 17》

第六、七量篇，Samantha的《Story Telling》和Amy的《The Color of Everything》

后补三篇

*Connor的《Waking Up Early》

*Tony的《Beauty in Complexity》

*Sean的《Butterfly Identity》

整体上来看：

Harvard Essays 2023 on Crimson Georgina| Lemonade with no Lemon (Lebanese 1G Girl) Abby    | Family at Barnes & Noble (Ethiopian 1G Girl) Marina  | Backyard Four Corners (Cuban 1G Girl)     Una     | Seeing Without Looking (Latino 1G Girl)    Simar   | First Haircut At Age 17 (Sikh 1G Boy) Samantha| I Am A Storyteller (Poem ECs non-ethnic) Amy     | The Color of Everything (diversity non-ethnic) Tony    | Study Wilderness Art (CA URM Boy) Sean    | Butterfly Identity (MA Queerness Boy) Connor  | Working Dad & Me (NH 1G Boy)