College Essay係列（五十七）：2025哈佛成功文書續完

College Essay係列的第五十六集，去年7月寫了2025哈佛成功文書的第一篇，Waigong Basketball，作者Claire。這一篇，把剩下的九篇全上了，補上去年偷的懶。2026的文書也很快就要要出了，機構的廣告時間在夏季，Crimson是不會錯過賺錢機會的。

不過，九篇加一起太長了，閱讀不便，先弄個目錄：

第二篇，Alexander的《Grandma's Pho Broth》

The mouthwatering scent of beef broth brought back a flood of childhood memories as it wafted around me. After a 12-hour drive from Florida to Texas, the familiar smell meant I was in ""bep cua bà"", or ""grandma's kitchen"" in Vietnamese. Every summer when my family visited my grandparents' house, my grandma always had a steaming pot of pho ready for us when we arrived, and this time was no exception. For my family, pho was more than a Vietnamese delicacy: it symbolized bringing us together over a warm, hearty meal. This specific visit, however, came with a change of perspective; as a young adult who was now conscious of his cultural roots, I wanted to learn more about my heritage by learning how to cook pho from my grandma.

As she boiled the water, my grandma stressed to me, "Every bowl of pho needs a strong foundation: the broth." Without a good broth, she explained, none of the other ingredients mattered. As I stood over the boiling pot, I thought about my own foundation: my family. My parents immigrated to America after the Vietnam War with nothing and had to work tirelessly to accomplish the celebrated "American Dream". From taking me to a 7 am student government fundraiser or a 10 pm baseball game in a city five hours away, I would not have been able to participate in these activities, which I consider an integral part of my identity, without their support. Being fortunate enough to have a strong foundation in my life has allowed me to be a strong foundation for others. For example, as an upperclassman on my varsity baseball team, I strive to be available for my teammates. Last season, when a younger teammate was struggling in a few games, I stayed back after practice to work with him on his fielding before driving him home, even though he lived almost an hour away. This small gesture was a reflection of my attempt to build a strong foundation for others.

As I watched the broth simmer in a giant pot that my grandma had continuously stirred for two days, she imparted another bit of wisdom onto me: making a great bowl of pho was also all about balance. Simply taking a great broth and indiscriminately adding to it would not suffice; each of the ingredients had to be in perfect balance with each other. Balance was never really something I considered until recently, when I experienced the struggle that can come from its absence. When I suffered a stress fracture in my lower back a few years ago that left me unable to play baseball for the foreseeable future, I felt as if suddenly a major part of my identity had been stripped away. I struggled with this new reality for a while until I realized I could fill this temporary void by acting as a mentor for my younger teammates. Additionally, with my newfound spare time, I was able to further develop my interest in Mu Alpha Theta, which gave me a new, enriching opportunity to compete in mathematics competitions. By the time I was finally cleared to play, I had developed a fresh appreciation for the importance of maintaining a balance among all the activities I did, as I had experienced firsthand the empty feeling of having this balance stripped away.

While putting the finishing scallions in the bowl, I reflected on the delectable meal I helped create and realized that what had started out as me simply wanting to learn more about my heritage became something more poignant: an introspection. Although there may not be a single perfect recipe for pho, by applying my grandma's cooking principles in my everyday life, whether it be in baseball, my volunteer lab experience, or my service trip to Guatemala, I hope to be able to make a "bowl of pho" that is perfect for me.

這篇讀完，我就直接給B-了。這是一篇故事，把奶奶做的越麵湯和美國夢經曆類比，如果早十幾年，就算是一個不錯的題材，但放在疫情後、川普立的2025年，這個主題不再新鮮。它最主要的問題是，越麵湯和美國夢之間的類比性，放在教育foundation上，顯得是硬關聯，魚骨好吃，沒燉熟就直接吃有點紮口。第三段的balance類比，加強了這感覺。這麽類別不能說不對，但就是沒有順滑質感，如鯁在喉的那種。麵湯各種成分之間Balance是麵湯好喝的基礎，於是它也就是麵湯成為好的foundation的基礎，也就是基礎的基礎。我說感覺怎麽這麽別扭呢，源頭原來在這。當然還有別的地方，比如，家是作者的基礎，作者又去做了別人的基礎。這一層套一層的單一概念，是寫文書講故事的大忌。你必須把概念確定在一個固定的層次上。

其實這個故事，從新設計一下，會更順暢。這篇就不去替皇上操心了。我主要想說的是，我彷佛從哪篇裏見過，但絕對不是2023和2024的那20篇。這是哪一篇相當老舊的文書翻版，至少有15年曆史了。Crimson上給出評語的機構，就是去年給Clara/Michelle出評語的那個，今年在給Alexandra這篇寫評語的時候，隻是犯了個小錯誤，就不細提了。

讀到這，我有一個突出的感覺了。2025的《10 Successful》，好像在主題上沒法直接與2023和2024進行對比了。

第一篇《Waigong Basketball》也是如此，這篇外公題材，隱約中我想起有若幹2017-2019年的文章與之應和。我還特別的寫過一篇《爺爺奶奶送我上哈佛》的文章，發在這個公眾號裏。那篇的三篇爺爺奶奶的故事，都是結構上好筆法。但這一篇奶奶的越麵湯，寫法上頗為2015年的《Music in My Life》，1-2-3式結構，這是從前不卷時代的標簽。

說2015年不卷，我是站在2025年的角度--16.5%的早申錄取率，你們誰見過這樣的哈佛？

第三篇，Barry 的《Family in Education》

I woke up one morning to the usual noise in the kitchen. “That plate of porridge is mine,” my brother yelled outrageously at my sister, “leave it or else I will beat you up.” Food scrambles and fights were order of the day in the family I was raised. The size of one’s meal would be determined by one’s age. You had to fight for food at times, or else hunger would eat you alive. Living with ten siblings in a polygamous family is not the definition of tranquility. However, I have learned more from this revolving door than I could have been taught in solitary silence. Beyond chaos, there is a whisper that teaches the benefits of unselfish concern.

My mother was a teacher, but her salary could not sustain the big family. Almost every day, she would wake up early in the morning before work and go to the fields. My parents were shadowy figures whose voices I heard vaguely in the morning when sleep was shallow, and whom I glimpsed with irresistibly heavy eye-lids as they trudged wearily into the house at night. We sat together as a whole family on special occasions. After a bumper harvest, my parents would sell their crops in the neighborhood. I vividly remember my mother counting proceeds from the crop sale, her dark face grim, and I think now, beautiful. Not with the hollow beauty of well-simulated features, but with a strong radiance of one who has suffered and never yielded. “This is for your school fees arrears,” she would murmur making a little pile. “This is for the groceries that we borrowed from Mr Kibe’s store,” and so on. The list was endless. We would survive at least for the present.

My father instilled in me the importance of education. I would see the value of education every time I shook hands with him; the scratches and calluses from the field in his hands were enough motivation. After every award I received, he would firmly shake my hands as a sign of profound pride. My tacit prayer was to ease his pain one day. Unfortunately this was never to come true, he died on 5 February 2016 in a car accident, only a week before I received my IGCSE O LEVEL results and I had attained 14 straight A grades, standing out to be one of the top performers in the country. After my father’s death, his brothers took everything that he had acquired.

Inevitably, circumstances forced me to take a break from school in January 2017 and bear my share of the eternal burden at home. I had to take care of my mother whose health was deteriorating. I would spend the day doing household chores, and the nights were times of intensive study. It was on my mother’s deathbed when I was fully convinced that she was a seasoned fighter. “Barry,” she called me, “I am not going to die till you finish school.” In order not to disillusion that extraordinary faith in her voice, I assured her that she was going to live. Unfortunately, she succumbed to death on the 15th of March 2017. I “died” with her. My belief in the God she had ardently prayed to till the time of her demise was shaken.

Already laid waste by poverty and pain, I went back to school through the generosity of strangers. School became a battleground for victory. I came back to life determined than ever before. I out-performed the country boys who mocked my struggle. I went on to win accolades in the National and Regional Mathematics Olympiads and was awarded the Higher Life Foundation Scholarship that was going to pay my fees throughout high school.

Today, I am an epitome of a black, double-orphaned, African boy who lost everything he ever valued, but refused to give up on his dream.

讀到這篇Hook文，我給B+。 一個鄉村一夫多妻家庭裏長大的黑人男孩的故事，最後National Math Olympics，那價值感滿滿，哈斯普耶應該滿貫了的。故事底料有重量，結構的深淺就都無所謂了。

寫作上就說一點吧。文章首段結尾有一句漂亮句“Beyond chaos, there is a whisper that teaches the benefits of unselfish concern”，初始讀到時覺得挺不錯。但在故事後來，它不僅沒有呼應，還有反呼應，就成了敗筆。文章結尾處，“refused to give up on his dream”不是unselfish而是selfish，這就把段首加的那句漂亮句形成對立。注意，不要把selfish翻譯成自私，僅僅自我中心而已。

但以上隻是我要說的一部分。我想請大家注意的是編輯的細節。在2016年父親去世後拿到IGCSE O LEVEL的14個A，這是14-16歲的標誌。接著還有A-Level，17-18歲，告終結畢業了。所以這篇不可能式2025年的新品，最近也隻能是2017-18申請季的作品罷了。這就確認了，被冠以2025的文書，至少有不是今年的申請文書。甚至是很早期作品。難怪前麵那篇讓我想起來2015年的舊文書呢。

但是，搞就搞在這篇後麵的機構評語，居然還弄出寧可不按AI提示修改語法的、未經雕琢的詩性語風來。以前，你們不都要我們修正語法錯誤的嘛？怎麽今天有AI方便了，你們又不想要修改了呢？對了，這篇最近是2019年所作，那時候Google Docs沒有AI。

第四篇，Claire 的《Lemon Crocs》

Of the memorable moments in my life when I have discovered one of my passions, almost all of them involve my bright yellow Crocs. Buying rubber shoes in such a conspicuous color was not a spontaneous decision; it took me two months to choose. I had been stalking crocs.com, clicking between the color options, and asking for the unsatisfying opinions of friends before what felt like my rom-com “meet cute” moment: a girl wearing a black tracksuit walked past me in Crocs the brightest shade of yellow I had ever seen. That very week, I opened my laptop and decisively purchased a size 8 pair of “Lemon” Crocs. Ten business days (and two months to build up the courage to wear my eye-catching kicks out in public) later, my self-discovery began.

I was wearing my Crocs when I recognized the importance of activism in young communities. This revelation came on a Saturday in March 2018. I took a 25-minute train ride down to Washington D.C. to participate in the March for Our Lives rally—my first protest. For all 25 anxiety-inducing minutes, my heart raced and my muscles tightened as I tried to ignore the probing stares from strangers wondering why I decided to pair yellow shoes with a green coat.

But my fears (both Croc and non-Croc related) quickly dissolved as I stood alongside activists that were my age; in front of a stage dominated by leaders that were my age; making me realize that the only thing stopping me from being a student activist, at my age, was effort. The young voices calling for change inspired me to step into my responsibility to use my voice to help those whose voices are being suppressed. I stood there for one hour, but what I saw was enough to encourage me to actualize my vision for a world where students are driven to engender social change through service. So, five months later, I co-founded The Virago Project (TVP), a student-led organization focused on building a community of activists like the ones I stood alongside in March. A “virago” is a woman displaying exemplary qualities, but the term has been twisted to demean assertive women. From its name to its activities, TVP is about redefining leadership.

After my day in D.C., I wore my Crocs to every student meeting TVP held. I wore them as we sold 150 handmade bracelets to raise funds for a local children’s home and again when we posted colorful cards with encouraging messages all over my high school. Walking into rooms full of ambitious student leaders using TVP as a jumping-off point for their own service projects, I beamed as their gaze met my sunny shoes and then shot up to my equally cheery smile.

“Dunni, why do you wear such noticeable shoes when you lead these meetings?” asked one of our activists.

Pleasantly dumbfounded, I could only respond with a curious smile—it’s not often that frivolous items lead to unintentionally philosophical inquiries. So, I held my tongue until the answer struck on a late-night in November 2019.

I wear such noticeable shoes when I stand in front of other student leaders because I want to model the kind of leadership that is as smile-inducing, deliberate, and visible as my Crocs. TVP has trained me to be, above all, altruistic, and I love that I get to learn and model this with a generation of world changers. It took me two months to decide I wanted a pair of sun-colored shoes but only two seconds and a model to realize that I desired the option I’d once overlooked. Now, I realize that, to curious strangers, I am the girl walking past in Crocs the brightest shade of yellow they have ever seen. And I am delighted with the thought that I could be the one to break someone’s cycle of indecision and social apathy.

這篇把Crocs和自己的社會活動領導力成長聯係在一起，代表物簡單、生活化，被代表概念大氣、有價值。很棒！而且，這篇不僅前後呼應，自始至終以Crocs來貫穿整個故事，流暢！

我給A。

有一點需要強調的是，這篇用一個亮色Crocs來借代自己的領導力成長，這兩者之間邏輯上並不存在可比性，而是在故事情節上硬搭配，也就是穿上它去參加第一次控槍遊行，鞋子帶來的尷尬，被同行的鼓舞稀釋、化解，從此走上社會活動的發展道路。這種硬搭，很自洽，無不妥，反而比奶奶的越麵湯的明喻要更舒服，更高明。

這多年，我讀到過很多這類好故事，去年的《Crochet into America》，前年的《Lemonade With No Lemon》都是很好的借物喻事，以物明誌的好例子。可以說，你如果有很自然的、具有共同性的比喻對象，很好。如果沒有，也不要硬湊可比性，幹脆就像《Lemon Crocs》硬搭配，從而產生借代的效果。

我管這叫“無喻則代”。

但，這也不是我全部要說的話。

這篇是哪2019年的文書呢？文章裏有提到2018和2019，這要是2019年的文書，應該用last year和this year/now；要是2020年的文書，應該用“2018”和“last year”；要是2021年以後的文書，可以保留“2018”和“2019”，但是這個犯了申請文書的一個大忌，即沒有申請當年的發展。這要真是2025年的文書，我都不敢想，她居然用初中都沒畢業時的經曆，就能錄哈佛--那就不是校報的問題，而是招生處有問題了！

以上關於年份的寫法，是行文的語言特色。This year，last year，next year，這三年一般不用年號。這樣寫時間，給讀者更好的講述語感。不必要的number，語感會變生硬。

第五篇，Isabelle 的《Plain Bagel Spontaneity》

Breakfast after church is a Sunday staple in my family. We’re not allowed to eat beforehand, so right after Mass ends, my sister and I race to the bagel shop only to inevitably wait in a long line. Often when we reached the cashier, we’d find they were out of plain bagels. It was a perennially difficult decision: pick from an assortment of non-plain bagels, or wait another 20 minutes for new plain bagels.

People’s bagel choices tell you everything about them, and I was a plain bagel girl through and through. Even when faced with 20 extra minutes of hunger, I decided to leave the sweet bagels for the adventurous, the savory for the straightforward, and the “everything” for the indecisive. I came for plain bagels, and I would get them, no matter the wait.

After a long wait, the warmth of the freshly-baked plain bagels radiating through the paper bag assured me my patience was worth it. Being a plain bagel girl means knowing exactly what you want—no more, no less. It means that I’m in control of my decision-making and always end up satisfied.

In senior year, my teacher graciously brought bagels to our class. Upon approaching the bag, however, I found there were no plain bagels left. Instinctively, I retreated. But my teacher stopped me and advised that I break from my comfort zone. Reluctantly, I chose an egg bagel, preferring its odd yellow shade to the surrounding sweeter variety (who wants a french toast bagel anyway?). My first bite introduced me to a new world: this sweet and savory egg bagel flawlessly balanced the worlds of the adventurous and the straightforward.

My willingness to try an egg bagel didn’t lead to a phase of food experimentation, but it did make me see that I could be more spontaneous than my plain bagel self might allow.

Before high school, you could never spot me on a dance floor; I much preferred to watch from the audience. But in my freshman year, I joined the dance department of my school’s annual production of S!NG on a whim.

As soon as I tried the first move, I knew the decision was worth it. I enjoyed diligently practicing routines and adding my own flair, satisfying my tendency to prepare thoroughly while also fulfilling my desire to explore the realm of dance. Eventually, I excelled so much that the directors chose me as their successor—a position that has strengthened me as a dancer, leader, and person. Though I relished my newfound sense of spontaneity, my plain bagel girl roots helped me to effectively manage others’ dancing. I tirelessly choreographed and re-choreographed each step and count of a routine, no matter how long the detailed revisions took. During practices, I analyzed the dancers' movements and refined them to what could only be described as plain bagel perfection.

Sometimes the moments when I thought I needed to be in control to be successful were when I needed to be more spontaneous. In my first year being director, I was unfamiliar with managing a multitude of variously skilled dancers. Shedding my fear of being an inexperienced leader was difficult, but I soon learned to open myself to others’ advice about describing moves and maintaining the beat. Together, through sometimes spontaneous practice sessions and spurts of inspiration, we worked to adapt the choreography to accomodate all dancers.

I revel in the contradiction that is my simultaneous meticulousness and spontaneity: my egg bagel epiphany. I can count on myself to prepare thoroughly to optimize my potential, no matter how long it takes. But I can also trust myself to make the most of the unknown and stay true to myself while doing so. It’s what makes me multidimensional; it makes me a young woman no longer defined by her bagel choices but rather by her versatility and what she can do with it.

這篇要是不仔細讀，就是像招生官那樣三五分鍾快讀一下就完事，我是很喜歡這篇的立意的。而且，這篇的結構完整，有發展，有轉折，有高潮，最後還有首尾呼應。拿Bagel來類比Spontaneity、Versatility，就像前麵的Crocs，有生活，有價值。隻是價值略顯傳統，不夠Equality和Social Justice。這種主題如今想錄哈佛是幾乎不可能的了。

但是細讀的話，就看出故事結構的一個不夠巧妙的機關。文章前半部分落在一個Senior year egg bagel經曆，並說bagel使自己看到更多。但後麵所述的“更多”，卻是以前的經曆，比如Freshman Year的。也就是說，senior year吃這個egg bagel是能帶著作者做回時間穿越的。

因為這一點時間的脫鉤，我隻能給這篇降分到B+。如果讓我改這篇，我就會把那個senior year和freshman year去掉，讓讀者去誤想，但“我”沒有撒謊，因為前後兩件事都是真的發生在“我”身上了的。

這樣的寫法，我叫做“真實的謊言”。

寫narrative essay，最大的忌諱就是落筆在試圖把所有的情節合理化，這種著力而出的努力讓有經驗的讀者感覺到生硬或者別扭。如果是真實敘述的故事，其中即使有不常見、甚至不合常理的情節點，真實經曆者也會以自然、不加解釋的語言說出，讀者反而感覺到真實。

第六篇，Olivia 的《Alcoholic Scientist》

When I was little my grandfather taught me the German word Waldeinsamkeit, the feeling of being truly alone in a deep forest. “Forests are special in Germany,” he explained. “In Florida...it’s swamps,” pointing to the brackish pond behind his house.

Back then, I knew only that he was a scientist, and that my mom’s forehead furrowed when he was mentioned. It was years before I saw him again, and many more years before I learned that, despite the silence of forests and families, no one is truly alone.

I always felt that science was in my blood. In 8th grade, I attended the Summer Science and Engineering Program at Smith College. I left hoping to study Chemistry--that was what my grandfather had taught.

So in high school, I emailed dozens of labs…and received one positive response, from a plant lab. Plants? They didn’t move or talk; they’re boring, I thought. And I had accidentally killed every plant I’d touched--including a fake one I’d dropped. But Dr. Yanofsky encouraged me. He also taught me that most of what I’d assumed about plants was wrong.

New research suggests injured Douglas firs send distress signals to nearby pines through a series of mycorrhizae, a fungi which acts like a plant internet. In other words, trees “talk” to each other and are “friends” during hard times--they help injured trees by sharing resources. If we listen at the right frequency, we can literally hear forests communicating.

In Dr. Yanofsky’s labs, I began using CRISPR-Cas9 to explore two genes in Arabidopsis thaliana. It took years, but my engineered plants produced nearly three times the fruit of the wildtype average, with clear applications toward world hunger. I entered my project in the Greater San Diego Science and Engineering Fair (GSDSEF), where I won First Place and Sweepstakes, sending me to the International Science and Engineering Fair (ISEF), where I became a Finalist.

The next year, I took these principles to the Garcia Scholars program at Stony Brook University to study nanotoxicity. I’ve learned that people across the globe speak a universal language of science, including bad puns. I’ve also learned that everyone had a mentor.

That’s why I helped launch the Student Leadership Board of GSDSEF. Traveling to dozens of schools, leading monthly Saturday workshops, I saw classrooms without science equipment. I met kids whose parents couldn’t afford even modest science fair entry fees.

So I created Science Fair Buddies, a mentoring program at a middle school where most students receive free lunch. I persuaded a local company to provide financial support, and recruited science fair alumni as mentors. We hold workshops when late buses are available. I’ve learned to look and listen in ways I hadn’t before. “Will there be snacks?” often means “I haven’t had a meal today.” Kids make formal presentations in t-shirts because that’s their only shirt. Seats for parents at award ceremonies are often empty. Taylor, a 5th grader with orange hair, comes with her grandfather; he’s her primary caretaker. Many kids seem to be their own caretakers.

In the last year, in an awkward conversation, I learned my own mother was one of these kids. I learned my grandfather was an alcoholic. That she spent afternoons stranded at bus stops. That he once ran over her dog. That he broke down a neighbor’s door to drag her back home. That the swampy pond behind her house was her designated meeting spot for friends to comfort her.

Last year, we traveled across the country to bring him home to live with us. He was alone, and suffering from progressive dementia. Some days he speaks nonsense, asking for “blue noses” for lunch. But yesterday he said his hobby was “finding truth where it may not always be obvious.”

Forests may be peaceful, but they’re not lonely, or even silent. Trees—and people—are always sharing resources in ways that remind us we’re never truly alone.

這篇文書，敘事流暢，特別時間描述上，遠的有8th grade，近一步是high school 和 next year，最近的last year。這是優秀文字寫手的素質，這些時間描述，比具體的年份數字更具有代入感，因為它們都是以故事發展的瞬間為參照的說法，讀到這些，會加強讀者的主角感覺。

但整篇讀完，我還是給了她B+。因為這個alcoholic scientist grandfather，在故事裏的出現缺乏有機性，與故事的整體發展沒有關聯，用他來首尾呼應實在不是一個好的結構設計。盡管這樣的內容，在某些hook必須在文書中體現的當下，往往就是哈耶普斯所要的情節。

作為ISEF選手，要讓科學家祖父成為酒鬼賣慘，讓故事顯得太俗。我懷疑是某機構修改時硬加上的。我建議的修改，就是去掉祖父的科學家部分，讓他專心當酒鬼賣慘好了。至於自己走上科學路的開門人，完全可以是母親，因為後麵我們還需要她老人家出場來承受酒鬼父親的傷害。這些情節，都是真的，這樣寫，才是好的故事。其實，也許無所謂了，哈佛這年頭都不認真讀文書，隻要過得了AI讀文書這一關，就是招生官要找的好文書。

我要說的，其實這篇關鍵不在文書，而是在Crimson給出的機構評語。這個機構大概是不滿足於校報的廣告不直接，轉化率低，所以把這篇評語直接寫成硬廣了：

【Crimson所刊機構評語的中文翻譯】 

多年來，我們已幫助數百名學生獲得哈斯麻等名校錄取。據我們經驗，成功藤校級別文書都至少具備三大關鍵要素中的兩項——影響力（Impact）、洞察力（Insight）與身份特質（Identity）。奧利維亞的文書深刻展現了前兩項：影響力與洞察力。 

在體育特招生和捐贈者之外，身份特質是藤校錄取的核心要素之一。如果你的身份能為藤校校園增添多樣性，請充分挖掘它。但如果——至少在招生官眼中——你的身份並無加分項呢？比如，你自認是個"普通的白人女孩"？ 

這正是奧利維亞八年級時對我的自我介紹，那時青少年們還熱衷於標榜自己"與眾不同"而非"平平無奇"。她的兄長曾通過數學競賽進入MIT和普林斯頓，但奧利維亞並非MOSP（美國數學奧林匹克夏令營）級別的選手，她需要另辟蹊徑來展現影響力。 

未達進入動物實驗室的年齡要求，九年級時她設法打入植物實驗室。她的研究最終取得了實質性發現，並帶領她站上了國際科學與工程大獎賽（ISEF）的獎台。她還創建了大型科普推廣項目，傳播對科學的熱愛——這就是影響力。 

但若缺乏洞察力——即對社會與個人意義的深層闡釋——學生的影響力就隻是一份簡曆。作為編輯，我的職責（也是XX教育優秀文書顧問的使命）就是幫助學生挖掘這種洞察力。對於奧利維亞，我送了她一本《樹木的隱秘生活》，並讓她自由書寫關於家庭與人生的思考。但最終點石成金的卻是她母親——一個被隱藏的家族故事，為她所有的科研成就賦予了更深層的意義。 

早年我在UCLA教授文學與敘事理論，後擔任美食美酒雜誌編輯總監。我的職責不是幫作家堆砌華麗辭藻，而是讓故事直擊人心。在XX教育，我們主張盡早啟動規劃——最早可從八年級開始——幫助學生打造優質履曆。但我們不僅是顧問，更是專業編輯：幫助學生厘清人生敘事的核心，並找到最有力的講述方式，讓哈佛這樣的學府不得不發出錄取信。 

奧利維亞高中畢業時，"普通"已很少被提及。當她獲得哈普斯等頂尖學府錄取時，藤校顯然從她身上看到了"不凡之處"。 

這篇跟文書內容還無關係的文書評語，XX教育真敢寫，哈佛校報還真敢登。哈佛就赤裸裸的提倡商業顧問吧！現在你們知道，美本的卷是誰主使的了吧？

第七篇，Jinna 的《Partisan Supreme Court》

It’s terrifying how much we can get from Amazon nowadays: groceries, clothes, books, and crises of faith are all just a click away.

After Audible thanked me for listening to The Most Dangerous Branch: Inside the Supreme Court's Assault on the Constitution by David Kaplan and The Brethren by Bob Woodward and Scott Armstrong, I wanted to cry, scream, and march to Washington to shake answers from Chief Justice John Roberts.

My emotional whirlwind burst from the dichotomy between reality and my expectation of it. Growing up, I knew the judicial branch as the apolitical arbiter of constitutional law and the bias-blind defender of civil rights. With fear across the nation rising as fast as the global temperature, I was sure the best way to change the failing status quo was through the courts. I dreamed of becoming a lawyer to advocate for justice and to help my country prosper. My ambitions sprouted from the ideals of public service ingrained into me at school and at home, and my goal hinged only upon the judiciary’s mandate to protect our freedoms. My dream was purposeful and straightforward.

But 37 hours of audiobook rewrote all my beliefs in the judicial branch.

The Supreme Court: apolitical arbiter and bias-blind defender? No. Rather: potentially politicized, petty, proud, and irrational. Partisan politics dance about the Justices’ Conferences. The Constitution and personal biases govern rulings. Most rights supposedly afforded by the Constitution are interpretations, not explicit clauses, of it. For example, Chief Justice Warren Burger manipulated case assignments, so Justice Potter Stewart tattled on him to Woodward and Armstrong in retaliation. The right of the judiciary to strike down laws deemed unconstitutional is derived more from Marbury v. Madison than from Article Three. Justice Harry Blackmun based his majority opinion in Roe v. Wade on the rights of the doctor to practice. Stare decisis is optional, as is judicial restraint.

I felt sick. I had worshipped the courts as the perfect forum for change, always upholding truth, equality, and scholarship; I saw them as the eventual birthplace of solutions to gun regulation, climate crises, gerrymandering, immigration, and social inequality. I did not want to acknowledge courts could be anything but perfect.

Desperation drove me to keep listening, but with every new case I covered, the clearer it became that I had worshipped an impossibility. After finishing Jeffrey Toobin’s The Nine, I finally admitted that, prior to these books, I had known nothing. Perhaps that epiphany should have terrified me, but it did quite the opposite.

It was liberating.

Socrates once wrote that true knowledge was in knowing that you know nothing. I couldn’t agree more: once you know you’ve hit wisdom rock bottom, you can be reckless with your curiosity because you only have everything to gain.

Since that epiphany, I have been gleefully chasing infinity. Even if my capacity to learn is finite, my curiosity is not. The history of the courts, the ethics of judicial restraint, the politics of judging, the rhetoric of opinions, the intersectionality of all of the above and more… there is so much to explore.

For the record: I purchased those audiobooks on a whim. I was not looking for anything more than a fascinating nonfiction read. But they have plunged me into an exhilarating, all-consuming, fully unpredictable adventure, one that stretches back to our nation’s founding and far into our future. While these books initially upset me by revealing the imperfections of the judicial branch, they showed me a whole undiscovered history and future at my fingertips. Rather than smothering my dreams of public service, they fanned the flames; now, my dream of public service is fueled by my passion to serve and to learn.

And I’m ready to chase it.

讀完這篇，我給A+。能與這篇對比閱讀的，是2021年的哈佛成功文書《From Christianity To Different Truth》，作者Ella。這一篇我收錄在一篇舊文中：《好文書比拚：哈佛vs霍普金斯》

本篇文書同是展現知識與個性的上乘之作。開篇以犀利機鋒抓住讀者眼球，"雜貨、衣物、書籍，乃至信仰危機，如今皆可一鍵下單"。從一個幽默觀察，展開成一段自我發現之旅。

作者強勢的敘事筆法是最突出的。文章以清晰的邏輯與靈動的筆觸，勾勒出從理想主義到幻滅再到信念重構的心路曆程。設問修辭、鮮活軼事，以及沃倫伯格的政治操弄、布萊克門大法官對羅-韋德案的論證等具體判例，無不彰顯其知識深度，卻毫無說教之感。

結構上也很流暢，暗合經典的敘事特點：理想主義的開端、危機時刻的降臨、救贖性的終章。以"我曾崇拜過一種不可能"為轉折，昭示著成熟。而將幻滅轉化為解放的終局更是力透紙背："當確認自己觸達愚昧的穀底時，你盡可放縱好奇心——因為此後每一步都是向上攀登。"這不僅是出色的文筆，更有令人側目的思想。

此文成功之處在於將失望淬煉為成長，展現出一個思想保持開放而非固化的靈魂。結尾並非廉價的樂觀主義，而是落腳於熱忱、主觀能動性與永不停歇的求知欲——這是招生官要挖掘的優秀特質：不是手持標準答案的完美學生，而是敢於提出深刻問題的探索者。

第八篇，Carrie 的《I am a Builder》

I am a builder. No. I am a seasoned architect. My tools are foreign to the realities of others but mundane by my standards. I don’t compose the perplexing and unique structures that most think of when the word architect is mentioned. Matter of fact, I don’t make structures at all; my mastery is in the assembly of walls. Mental ones, to be exact. I am a skillful artist of intricately woven walls to create a complex maze for the others that try to get to know me; they are left confused, with no choice but to surrender their arbitrary efforts to “save” me.

I was unmatched in my array of skills. That was until I met Mark. Mark was a worker from my first mental hospital visits who had attached himself to my conscience before I could push him away as I had done with so many others. With an equally impressive skill set, he was able to navigate his way through my long-standing labyrinth to its center. That’s where he found me. Still crouched next to my fledgling wall, dirt on my knees with dust on my face, I had finally been figured out for the first time in years. How did he get here? When did I let my guard down? The answers to these questions sat obnoxiously in front of me. The game that we always played. Horse. Such a benign game, that the thought of it having any significant part in my life is utterly incomprehensible. But it did, nonetheless.

Little did I know that Mark was studying to become a therapist in his studies of psychology, and I, his first patient. This is not a story of teenage love and life-changing heartbreak, but of one where an abandoned kid whose father raped her and whose mother gave up custody to have the father’s perverted approval, finally gets the parental figure that she was never offered before. I was an emotional wreck at this time, not wanting to live, much less fight a court battle to get the “justice” everyone so badly wanted for me. So Mark, the father I never got to have, taught me how to swim in the never-ending circumstances I was drowning in. With every swish of the net of our game, a new way he would teach my fumbling feet to move in the water. And with every finished game, he was one wall closer to the reality behind my facade. He taught me that being angry at my circumstances would not fix them or get me any closer to overcoming them.

Nothing is going to change my mom’s decision. Nothing is going to turn back time and change what my dad did. I can be the ruler of the lonely maze I created, or I can be surrounded by people who love and care for me. It wasn’t easy destroying all the walls I had taken years to build and perfect, but it wasn’t impossible either. This isn’t a fairytale where Mark waved a magic wand and all was better and my walls disappeared from my mind. This is reality, and it took time, patience, and effort to unassemble my walls. Brick by painstaking brick. But in the actual world, people don’t get happily ever after. Some of my walls are still there. And that’s okay. I have learned to recognize my progress instead of singling out my flaws.

I am finally okay with not being perfect. My walls have chips and cracks, but I am content with their creation and their destruction. The destruction of familiarity is a beautiful thing. And so I climb out of the water, let the flowers bloom in the cracks of my walls, and walk off the court arm in arm with someone who sees me for who I am, not whom I pretend to be.

A+。這篇文書簡直絕了——讀到紮心，卻又充滿救贖力。開篇第一句就把我拽進一個隱喻的世界：作者不是在講述生活，而是在用文字重新構建人生。那些關於"心牆"和"迷宮"的比喻既詩意又準確，把那種既想自我保護又想突破的矛盾心理，展現得透徹。

最戳人的馬克，用H-O-R-S-E投籃遊戲慢慢贏得信任的普通人。誰能想到一個童年遊戲居然成了治愈作者的鑰匙？這種舉重若輕的寫法，比直接說"我變堅強了"高級百倍。

這篇文書最牛的地方在於它的真實感。作者不強扯正能量，也不賣慘。說創傷就直說創傷，談希望也不灌雞湯。"這不是童話...這就是現實"大實話，配上"打破熟悉感其實是件好事"這種清醒，把成長的真相當麵甩給我麵前。

結尾那個畫麵也絕了。"讓花朵在我心牆的裂縫中綻放，然後和真正懂我的人挽著手離開球場"。這哪是結尾，根本是電影級的收尾！作者最後不是以受害者身份退場，而是作為一個學會與不完美共處的幸存者。我有淚感了都！

第九篇，Janna 的《IKEA Essay》

I wake up in monochrome. Just past the tips of my toes, the Flatiron Building rises above the bustling black and white streets of New York. Cars hurtle by in blurred gray tones. I am a hawk or helicopter or hot air balloon, and I have somehow worked myself into the sky of an Old Hollywood movie. Of course, this only lasts as long as I keep my eyes locked on the IKEA photograph I hung up across from my bed a few years back.

Just before I turned fourteen, I burst out of IKEA—my all-time favorite store—dead set on crafting on a "new and improved" Helen. I rushed home, stripped my room, and launched my transformation. Out with the beaded golden comforter! Out with the floral rug! Out with the pastel prints of savanna animals!

Well, perhaps this is too dramatic. Items are rarely thrown out in the Krieger household, just put to another use. Gazelles and cheetahs now peer down at me from the hallway wall, and the floral carpet rests beneath the brass coffee table in the living room. As for the comforter, I still use the exact same one, just concealed by a stark white cover. Still, the meaning holds: I was ready to refocus. Life seemed to be accelerating and I was not going to sit by the roadside, watching the wheels kick up dust.

Back then, I did not know what I wanted to be, and I still do not know now. However, never has there been any doubt in my mind about what I want to be doing. I want to whiz from idea to idea, question to question, and all the while, learn as much as possible. In all its action of rushing cars, the IKEA photograph epitomizes this ambition. No billion-dollar skyscraper or jewelry store in New York could ever win me over. I am not after Gatsby's gilded highlife, but New York's dynamic—the city's perpetual drive.

When I open my eyes, however, I am just as likely to wake up in a vibrant forest of green as I am to rise in the midst of charcoal city streets. Plants flourish on either side of my headboard. Vines of English ivy cascade down my bookcase, and a sentry palm fans out in front of my closet doors. New York reigns over one wall, but the other three are governed by nature.

This contrast did not always exist. Apart from the occasional bouquet, the Krieger household was void of vegetation until my sophomore year. One Saturday, my copper phytoremediation experiment made the breakfast table home to four groups of greenery. Over the next few months, I watched parts of my garden flourish, and then wilt, and then (remarkably) recover. Although all my plants were eventually reduced to a green juice of sorts for absorbance testing, they had started a revolution.

Soon after my experiment ended, I realized I missed my garden, and the plant invasion began. Today, my room harbors seventeen species, meshed into a diverse jungle. A few have even spilled out, taking up residence in the living room and kitchen. Just as I am captivated by the movement of the city, I admire the delicate hardiness of plants. Left untouched by humans, forests would cover most of the United States, and even in the midst of man-made destruction, many species still find a way to break through the cement.

In my room, plants and city streets share the stage. They do not battle, but exist in equilibrium, the gray with the green, urban acceleration in balance with the stability of nature. These worlds are not opposites. For all their differences, they share the energy of growth as well as the promise of regeneration and renewal. To thrive, I need not tear myself between manmade landscape and the natural environment; I need not pick between rapid action and natural growth.

I choose both.

這篇美國"斜杠文青"的完美自白，我給A+。

作者在身份認同、野心與雙重性之間走鋼絲，還走得優雅。開篇用一張宜家照片裏的"黑白灰紐約"做引子，把Flatiron大廈拍出了《罪惡之城》的既視感。這波操作不止是文藝，更暗搓搓埋下了主題：當社畜還是當鹹魚？作者微微一笑："我全都要！"

最絕的是那些神比喻！紐約的鋼鐵洪流，臥室裏野蠻綠植，白天CBD裝大人，晚上被窩裏當寶寶。作者把這種分裂活成了藝術字，最後那句"我選擇都要"，是高質量青少年的宣言，跟它比，"追尋真我"的雞湯算個P。

文筆也老凡爾賽了。誰能想到宜家相框能被寫出《變形記》的深度？"生活正在加速，而我拒絕當路邊觀眾"這種金句，配上"植物修複實驗裏那杯可疑的綠色液體"的沙雕細節，完美演繹了什麽叫"嚴肅文學和段子手無縫切換"。科學梗、裝修美學、人生哲學燉一鍋，居然還沒翻車。文霸寫文書的境界：用最輕鬆的語調，講最深刻的成長。

這種把"我貪心我驕傲"寫得如此清新脫俗的文書，不發offer還是人嗎？

第十篇，Emma 的《Bridge》

The first bridge I ever built was made of paper and glue.

My 8th grade physics teacher tasked my class with building a bridge out of two pieces of paper. Instead of focusing on the paper, I applied layers and layers of glue, strengthening the paper each time. The following week, the bridge successfully held 22 pounds, setting the highest school record in 12 years.

Two years later, I began building bridges of a different kind.

The car that brought me from the airport drove away, and I stepped through the doorway into the tiny apartment in the small city of Troyan, Bulgaria. The walls were covered with my stick- figure paintings and childhood pictures.

I laid my eyes on the wise woman in front of me and leaned down to pull her into a hug – not so tightly that it would break her, but enough to show my love. Raising her wrinkly hands to wipe my tears of joy away, my grandmother mumbled a row of Bulgarian words of affection and smiled. I didn’t understand, but I smiled back.

Since she lives 1247.092 miles away from me, my grandmother is not always there to give me a hug when I need it most. Nevertheless, her heart of gold transcends physical distance and has taught me more than anyone about kindness, empathy, and compassion for others. Although she can’t walk me through the intricacies of Bayesian statistics or neuroscience for my upcoming test, she tries her best to understand my ambitions and goals, and contributes in other ways – whenever I have an important test coming up, she prays, lights up candles, and keeps them lit until I’m done.

I could purchase plane tickets to trek the distance that separated our homes, but two other gaps were harder to traverse: my aging grandmother’s health was deteriorating and I didn’t speak Bulgarian.

I sought to create bridges to close these gaps.

My grandmother suffers from rheumatoid arthritis, a disease that presses her body from every side, deforming her joints, and arching her back. She is the smallest person I know, but yet for me, the greatest.

I wished that I could show her the world and take all her pain away, but the only thing that I could do for her was building a bridge that would connect her to the knowledge she wouldn’t be able to access otherwise. I spent countless hours researching healthy meals to create a detoxifying and anti-inflammatory nutrition plan for her that would be easy to cook. The research paid off – the pain in her joints subsided.

When my grandmother and I “talked,” emotions flowed between our souls like stars fly through space. Words would only describe what we feel – but not show. It was like listening to a song, but not paying attention to the lyrics, only to the pain and passion in the singer’s voice and the flow of the melody.

In 2017, I decided that I finally wanted to learn Bulgarian. With a flashlight under my blanket, I started learning the Cyrillic alphabet and Audio CD’s with Bulgarian day-to-day conversations talked me to sleep. I surprised my grandmother by writing her a letter – written without Google Translate for the first time. Phone calls became much more frequent, and we grew closer together, but I wanted to go one step further. I moved to Bulgaria for a semester the year after in order to see her happy face when we could finally sing the song of our conversations – with the lyrics.

Seeing the influence my bridges had on my grandmother inspired me to build more. After I came back to Germany, I learned that bridges could be built between anyone.

In March 2020, my best friend’s mother confided in me that she was overwhelmed with the task of coordinating her children’s schoolwork at home during quarantine. It occurred to me that a platform for building bridges from younger students to older ones could take the load off of parents during this time. I quickly found that bridging these two groups of students leads to a higher learning efficiency since younger students often feel more comfortable studying with students that they can identify with. Soon, my startup was connecting a high-quality and often entirely subsidized learning resource to a socioeconomically diverse population of students from all over Germany.

I hope that by building bridges, we learn to better appreciate each other’s differences in order to create a more empathetic and connected world – together.

My bridge made of paper and glue eventually collapsed after holding 22 pounds. But my next bridge is always stronger than the one before. Above all, I will continue connecting others, and I am excited to see what bridge I will build next.

這篇Grandma主題的文書故事，我給B+。剛剛讀完了7-8-9三篇好文，我確實不可能對這篇給更高的評語和評分了。

不過這篇直白地寫著，隻能是2020的文書。連南郭先生都不是的，何必擠進齊王樂隊裏來充數?

【凸某總結】

整體上來看，2025級的《10 Successful》文書：

• 隻有5篇文書，算高質量的文字。
• 有6篇之多，根本不是2025級申請的文書。
• 有9篇文書作者的錄取，與評論他們的機構之間，顯然沒有關係。

Crimson的這個廣告頁麵，大概是用今年沒有前年湊的模式，找來十篇文書，請廣告方作評，然後放在Crimson的URL之下，讓讀者自己來誤認為是出自這些機構的顧問關係。哈佛這麽公開做事，合法但不合市場道義。

如果都改成那位Olivia的推薦機構，把評語直接寫成硬廣呢？那就成了哈佛自己廣告“申請哈佛需要花錢顧問”了。這是赤裸裸地逼瘋貧下中農，跟哈佛號召的公平正義的教育理念也不搭啊。總之呢，真有好文還是上吧，也就別用這個給那些顧問再做廣告了。人家JHU就是公公平平、清清白白地貼出來給大家參考的。想賺錢，像達茅那樣出一本50 Successful賣書也行的，不會被戳後脖梗子。