College Essay係列(五)：頂級文書の大滿貫2018

頂級文書の大滿貫2018

被兩年兩篇頂級文書熏陶的美本爬藤人，學習的速度是驚人的。這不才剛2018年，絕頂文書就橫空出世。《English In Our House》，作者Cassandra Hsiao， 又是女生，而且是華裔。說它是絕頂文，因為這是一篇大滿貫Essay，作者憑它一舉拿下了所有八家藤校和斯坦福的offer。

↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ ↓  想直接欣賞這篇原文的，請下拉到文末↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ 

誰是Cassandra Hsiao

Cassandra Hsiao，中文名蕭靖彤，是出生於馬來西亞的華裔女生。5歲時隨父母移民到加州洛杉磯。7年級，她考進了位於洛杉磯市向南40英裏的OCSA Charter School。Charter School是民辦公助學校，不收學費，也不劃片區，學生需要考試申請才能進來。OCSA的錄取率僅為11%，不僅低於全美排名第一的公立高中Thomas Jefferson HS（此校改為考錄後，錄取率15%），甚至低於私立寄宿名校 Andover (13%)、Exeter (19%)、Groton (12%) 和 Thacher (12%)。

第一代移民在美國經曆很多困難，第一關就是語言。在華人家庭長大的蕭靖彤，進入小學前並不知道自己的中式英語口音，會成為被人笑話的理由。歧視是一種社會現象，歧視意識形成於孩子的社會觀念初成階段，會造成很大心理傷害。作為一個外來移民，無論被別人評為英語好或不好，你都會感覺歧視的無形存在。

在克服語言障礙的成長過程中，Cassandra發現自己最大的興趣，卻偏偏是英語語言。小學二年級開始，她就喜歡寫作了。當口音甚至還沒有完全矯正的時候，她已經進了Creative Writing Class，並在這裏找到了自己的Passion。

家住Walnut鎮的Cassandra，每天需要做公交車往返於家和學校之間，單程25英裏，費時1小時。五年的學習，她獲得4.6的GPA，近乎滿分的SAT和ACT，還堅持學校和洛杉磯當地的媒體寫過大量文章。當以OCSA的尖子生狀態畢業（雖然不是valedictorian），並獲得美本大滿貫時，媒體報道鋪天蓋地。

拿到八家藤校和斯坦福的Cassandra，在各校之間negotiate financial package後，才選擇了Yale的Theater專業。這是很成熟的表現。藤校在RD錄取發出後，一般都不會更多的Scholarship餘量。想要獲得更多Financial，需要早申，或者向校外發掘機會。向外發展，這對Cassandra來說更不是難事了。

Cassandra現在是網絡名人。自從她在油管貼出自己的文書之後，網絡流量激增。於是，她順理成章地為耶魯招生辦做了兩年的Student Blogger。在校三年，Cassandra除了繼續做美本在申請的油管紅人外，工作履曆也異彩紛呈。其中，不乏LA Times，NBC，Universal，Netflix 等媒體大牌工作經驗。學生期間能有如此履曆，Cassandra的未來無限可期。

大滿貫の文書三要素

這篇大滿貫文書，是近年來最值得一讀的好文書。你反複讀幾遍，甚至背會它。要知道拿到大滿貫的錄取絕非偶然。因為你幾乎不可能寫一篇完全沒有傳統意義的文字，然後僅憑Murphy's Law就能擊中所有AO的心情。

1. Dig in yourself

深挖你自己。從真實的遭遇和歡樂中找出你想表達的東西。設想一下，如果你今天得了絕症，你想要怎樣給別人留下一個關於你自己的生命故事？可以有悲，最好的是喜。每個人都有故事，你肯定也有。比如這篇裏的移民口音。平凡中見光輝勝於去製造光輝。

2. Show your value

在自己的故事中，找出那些可以飽含你價值關的地方，那些能張顯出你的領導力、創造力、奉獻精神、追求公平、求知欲等等的環節。你可能找出來很多，因為你確實太優秀了。但不能都放進一篇內，要有取舍。比如這篇歧視為主、助人為輔，扔掉創造性和領導力。

3. Play your story

取舍的標準，就是要形成一個引人注目的故事。有起承轉合，有主線貫穿，有前後呼應。要會用喻，要有形象，要推敲詞眼。當有需要解釋的情節，要麽它多餘，要麽你還沒想透。這篇從snack到flour，從Malaysia到New York，所有情節都無需解釋是一看即懂。

 

2018年：English in My House Essay

Cassandra Hsiao

Harvard/Yale/Princeton/Stanford

In our house, English is not English. Not in the phonetic sense, like short a is for apple, but rather in the pronunciation—in our house, snake is snack. Words do not roll off our tongues correctly—yet I, who was pulled out of class to meet with language specialists, and my mother from Malaysia, who pronounces film as flim, understand each other perfectly.

In our house, there is no difference between cast and cash, which was why at a church retreat, people made fun of me for “cashing out demons.” I did not realize the glaring difference between the two Englishes until my teacher corrected my pronunciations of hammock, ladle, and siphon. Classmates laughed because I pronounce accept as except, success as sussess. I was in the Creative Writing conservatory, and yet words failed me when I needed them most.

Suddenly, understanding flower is flour wasn’t enough. I rejected the English that had never seemed broken before, a language that had raised me and taught me everything I knew. Everybody else’s parents spoke with accents smarting of Ph.Ds and university teaching positions. So why couldn’t mine?

My mother spread her sunbaked hands and said, “This is where I came from,” spinning a tale with the English she had taught herself.

When my mother moved from her village to a town in Malaysia, she had to learn a brand-new language in middle school: English. In a time when humiliation was encouraged, my mother was defenseless against the cruel words spewing from the teacher, who criticized her paper in front of the class. When she began to cry, the class president stood up and said, “That’s enough.”

“Be like that class president,” my mother said with tears in her eyes. The class president took her under her wing and patiently mended my mother’s strands of language. “She stood up for the weak and used her words to fight back.” We were both crying now. My mother asked me to teach her proper English so old white ladies at Target wouldn’t laugh at her pronunciation. It has not been easy. There is a measure of guilt when I saw her letters together. Long vowels, double consonants—I am still learning myself. Sometimes I let the brokenness slide to spare her pride but perhaps I have hurt her more to spare mine.

As my mother’s vocabulary began to grow, I mended my own English. Through performing poetry in front of 3000 at my school’s Season Finale event, interviewing people from all walks of life, and writing stories for the stage, I stand against ignorance and become a voice for the homeless, the refugees, the ignored. With my words I fight against jeers pelted at an old Asian street performer on a New York subway. My mother’s eyes are reflected in underprivileged ESL children who have so many stories to tell but do not know how. I fill them with words as they take needle and thread to make a tapestry.

In our house, there is beauty in the way we speak to each other. In our house, language is not broken but rather bursting with emotion. We have built a house out of words. There are friendly snakes in the cupboard and snacks in the tank. It is a crooked house. It is a little messy. But this is where we have made our home.