兒子的故事 essay--by ND-mom

先說明一下，這個 essay 是在 Julia 提供幫助之前 Ben 就寫得差不多了，所以 Julia 沒有對這個 essay 有任何指導。這個 essay 我是找了一個我認識的美國人給看過，他還給了很多好的tips，比如不要用太多的形容詞，不要用 big words, don't work admission officer too hard on their brain or their eyes （ don't write long paragraphs）。這個 topic 也是在 Ben 考慮和寫了不少其他的 topic 後才定下來。 雖然定下來寫 music，但是到底寫哪些活動 （play violin, being in musical, or sing）， 側重點在哪兒，又費了很長時間。他的這個 music camp 是他非常 passionate about，一周後他的感受也很多。但是essay 的側重點也不是一下子就找到了。他想寫他自己對這個 music piece 的感受，又想寫 ensemble coach 對他的幫助，最後決定放在他對 leadership 的感受上 （他的 stats 裏 leadership 比較少，算是個補就吧）。 當然接下來的問題就是其他的活動放在 application 的哪裏 present? 他的 science fair activity 是他最重要的一個活動，但最後隻在給 Harvard 的 research paper 的 statement 裏寫了一些，沒有我寫的這麽長，這麽有意思 （自誇一下）。還有就是申請 Princeton 寫了一些在 Engineering essay 中。 Volunteering activity 是用 short answer 寫的 （好像是 150 words limit）。 我個人看這個 college 申請材料的安排，就像一個廚師麵對一大堆魚肉海鮮，各式蔬菜，還有各種酒類，你得知道怎麽搭配，才能 present 一桌又好看又香氣撲鼻的豐富盛宴。要是碰上像我這樣不會做飯的， 光把東西做熟放在那裏，那結果就會差很遠。我兒子的素材是不少，但是要全麵安排好，把各個方麵都照顧到，還是挺 challenge的。 我兒子的另一個 essay 是一個很 personal 的 essay，我就不在這裏 post 了。 Tension, electricity…four chairs, four stands... four pairs of eyes meeting in anticipation of the concert’s finale: Shostakovich’s String Quartet No. 8. A moment of complete silence stills the residual shuffling of programs and chairs. And out of this silence, the cello utters a woeful call. One by one, three voices answer. The quartet begins to tell its story. That story began on the first day of the Dakota Chamber Music Summer Camp. We were new to each other, and had only five short days to learn what we referred to as the “Shosty 8.” I was excited. I was nervous. I was worried. Although I had been “first violinist” and “ensemble leader” in various quartets for over seven years, I had always been hesitant to “command the troops.” Yet I knew that bringing a quartet successfully through such a passionate and technically demanding piece in just five days would require leadership. It was extremely clear after the first day just how far each of us had to go individually, not to mention as a group. Was I ready to lead three others through a piece I was not sure I could get through myself? “Hey guys, I just can’t get this counting right. Any suggestions?” I tried to spark teamwork with a nervous chuckle and a comment about something I needed to improve. After helping with my problem, the other members began pointing out spots with which they were having trouble. The rehearsal atmosphere gradually changed from reserved to open as we began to collaborate, even if sometimes the collaboration meant sacrifice. In the second movement, when the counting of bizarre amounts of rest and the myriad staggered entrances put us in disarray, we began to rely on cues from each other to keep together. At times, we cued each other at the expense of our own playing. I remember cuing the second violinist perfectly for his entrance, only to look back at my music and realize I was completely lost. We began to care for each other and do what we could to help each other out, whether that was brainstorming a fingering together, running through the parts slowly with another, or suggesting play styles that would better fit in the group’s sound. I was inspired by the amount of effort each member put in outside of rehearsal during those five days. I still grin when I recall someone complaining during breakfast about hearing a cello at three-thirty in the morning—from two floors below. And as each member progressed, our playing began to move beyond the notes and into the music of Shostakovich; it may have been summer in North Dakota, but as we played we began to feel the chill of a Russian winter. Before we knew it, the camp was almost over. We accomplished so much. I realized that being a leader was not about criticizing or bossing people around. It was more about encouragement and getting everyone involved than any actual “leading.” We were ready for the concert. Our last rehearsal told us that. As the quartet stood offstage, we looked into each other’s eyes, knowing how far we had come. It was time to perform. The performance went by in a wonderful blur. As I held the next to the last note of the piece, I focused on the feeling of the string vibrating against my finger. I could feel the audience yearning for the chord’s tension to resolve. I held the note as long as I dared, and when my index finger lifted off the string, it was as if all the angst from the entire week was being lifted far away as well. I’ll never forget the sound of that last harmony resounding through the hall. We made magic that week, but after the concert was over, I felt empty. Only later did I begin to understand that while our performance was over, what we had learned to do wasn’t. Four came together as one. It wasn’t me, and it wasn’t them; it was the four of us pushing and pulling and moving together up the mountain that was our piece — that was our real performance.