哈佛錄取文書來啦！速來圍觀Essay范文

ESSAY正文

I hate the letter “S”. Of the 164,777 wors with “S”, I only grapple with one. To conemn an entire letter because of its use 0.0006% of the time souns statistically absur, but that one case change 100% of my life. I use to have two parents, but now I have one, an the “S” in “parents” isn’t going anywhere.

“S” follows me. I can’t get through a ay without being remine that while my friens went out to inner with their parents, I ate with my parent. As I write this essay, there is a blue line uner the wor “parent” telling me to check my grammar; even Grammarly assumes that I shoul have parents, but cancer oesn’t listen to eit suggestions. I won’t claim that my situation is as unique as 1 in 164,777, but it is still an exception to the rule - an outlier. The worl isn’t meant for this special case.

The worl wouln’t abanon “S” because of me, so I trie to abanon “S”. I coul get away from “S” if I staye busy; you can’t have inner with your “parent” (thanks again, Grammarly) if you’re too busy to have family inner. Any spare time that I ha, I fille. I became known as the “busy ki”- the one that everyone always asks, “How o you have time?” Morning meetings, classes, after school meetings, volleyball practice, ance class, rehearsal in Boston, homework, sleep, repeat. Though my specific scheule has change over time, the busyness has not. I couln’t fill the loss that “S” left in my life, but I coul at least make sure I in’t have to think about it. There were so many things in my life that I couln’t control, so I controlle what I coul- my scheule. I never succumbe to the stress of potentially over-committing. I thrive. It became a challenge to juggle it all, but I’ soon fin a rhythm. But rhythm wasn’t what I wante. Rhythm may not have an “S”, but “S” sure like to come by when I was ile. So, I ae another ball, an another, an another. Soon I notice that the same “color” balls kept falling into my hans- theater, acaemics, politics. I began to want to come into contact with these more an more, so I further narrowe the scope of my color wheel an increase the shaes of my primary colors.

Life became easier to juggle, but for the first time, I in’t a another ball. I foun my rhythm, an I embrace it. I stoppe running away from a single “S” an began chasing a ouble “S”- passion. Passion has given me purpose. I was shackle to “S” as I trie to escape the confines of the traitional familial structure. No matter how far I ran, “S” staye behin me because I kept looking back. I’ve finally learne to move forwar instea of away, an it is liberating. “S” got me moving, but it hasn’t kept me going.

I wish I coul en here, triumphant an basking in my new inspiration, but life is more convolute. Motivation is a ouble ege swor; it keeps me facing forwar, but it also keeps me from having to look back. I want to claim that I showe courage in being able to turn from “S”, but I cannot. Motivation is what keeps “S” at bay. I am not perfectly heale, but I am perfect at navigating the best way to heal me. I on’t seek out saness, so “S” must stay on the sielines, an until I am completely reay, motivation is more than enough for me.

ESSAY正文

I entere the surprisingly cool car. Since when is Beijing Line 13 air-conitione? I’ll take it. At four o’clock in the afternoon only about twenty people were in the subway car. “At least it’s not crowe,” one might have thought. Wrong. The pressure of their eyes on me fille the car an smothere me. “看看！她是外國人！”(Look, look! She’s a foreigner!) An ol man very louly whispere to a chil curle up in his lap. “Foreigner,” he calle me. I hate that wor, “foreigner.” It only explains my exterior. If only they coul look insie.…

They woul know that I actually speak Chinese—not just speak, but love. They woul know that this love was born from my first love of Latin—the language that fostere my amiration of all languages. Latin lives in the wors we speak aroun the worl toay. An translating this ancient language is like watching a play an performing in it at the same time. Each wor is an aventure, an on the journey through Virgil’s Aenei I foun that I am more like Aeneas than any living, ea, or fictional hero I know. We share the intrinsic value of loyalty to friens, family, an society. We stan true to our own wor, an we uphol others to theirs. Like Aeneas’s trek to fin a new settlement for his collapse Troy, with similar perseverance I, too, waner the seas for my own place in the worl. Language has helpe me o that.

If these subway passengers unerstoo me, they woul know that the very reason I sat besie them was because of Latin. Even before Aeneas an his tale, I met Caecilius an Grumio, characters in my first Latin textbook. In translations I learne grammar alongsie Rome’s rich history. I realize how learning another language coul expose me to other worls an other people—something that has always excite me. I also realize that if I wante to know more about the worl an the people in it, I woul have to learn a spoken language. Spanish, espite the seven years of stuy prior to Latin, i not stick with me. An the throatiness of French was not appealing. But Chinese, more than these other traitional languages, intrigue me. The oors to new worls it coul open seeme enless. Thus I chose Chinese.

If these subway passengers looke insie me, they woul fin that my knowlege of both Latin an Chinese makes me feel whole. It feels like the worl of the past is flowing through me alongsie the worl of the future. Thanks to Latin, Chinese sticks in my min like the Velcro on the little boy’s shoes in front of me. If this little boy an his family an friens coul look insie, they woul unerstan that Latin lai the founation for my lifelong commitment to languages. Without wors, thoughts an actions woul be lost in the space between our ears. To them, I am a foreigner, “外國人” literally translate as “out-of-country person.” I feel, however, more like an avena, the Latin wor for “foreigner,” translate as “(one who) comes to (this place).” I came to this place, an I came to this country to stay. Unfortunately, they will not know this until I speak. Then once I speak, the oors will open.

ESSAY正文

When I faile math in my sophomore year of high school, a bitter ispute engulfe my househol -- “Nicolas Yan vs. Mathematics.” I was the plaintiff, appearing pro se, while my father represente the efenant (inanimate as it was). My brother an sister constitute a rather unerstaffe jury, an my mother presie over the case as juge.

In a frightening eparture from racial stereotype, I charge Mathematics with the capital offences of being “too ifficult” an “irrelevant to my aspirations," citing my recent shortcomings in the subject as evi. ence. My father entere a not guilty plea on the efenant's behalf, for he ha always harbore hopes that I woul follow in his entrepreneurial footsteps -- an who ever hear of a businessman who wasn't an accomplishe mathematician? He argue that because I ha fallen sick before my examination an ha been unable to sit one of the papers, it woul be a travesty of justice to blame my "Ungrae” mark on his client. The juge noe sagely.

With heartrening pathos, I recalle how I ha stuie A-Level Mathematics with calculus a year before the rest of my cohort, bravely grappling with such perverse concepts as the poisson istribution to no avail. I ecrie the subject's lack of real-life utility an lamente my inability to reconcile further effort with any plausible success; so that to persist with Mathematics woul be a Sisyphean eneavor. Since I ha no interest in becoming the entrepreneur that my father envisione, I petitione the court for acaemic refuge in the humanities. The members of the jury exchange sympathetic glances an put their heas together to eliberate.

In hushe tones, they weighe the particulars of the case. Then, my sister announce their unanimous ecision with magisterial gravity: "Nicolas shouln't have to o math if he oesn't want to!" I was ecstatic; my father istraught. With a bang of her metaphorical gavel, the juge sentence the efenant to "Death by Omission"-- an so I chose my subjects for 11th Grae sans Mathematics. To my father's isappointment, a future in business for me now seeme implausible.

Over the next year, however, new evience that threw the court's initial verict into question surface. Languishing on eath row, Mathematics exercise its right to appeal, an so our quasi-court reconvene in the living room.

My father reiterate his client's innocence, maintaining that Mathematics was neither "irrelevant" nor "too ifficult." He prouly recounte how just two months earlier, when my friens ha convince me to join them in creating a business case competition for high school stuents (clerical note: the loftily-title New Zealan Seconary Schools Case Competition), I stoo in front of the Boar of a company an successfully pitche them to sponsor us-- was this not evience that l coul succee in business? I think I saw a tear roll own his cheek as he implore me to give Mathematics another chance.

I consiere the truth of his wors. While writing a real-worl business case for NZSSCC, l ha been struck by how mathematical processes actually mae sense when eploye in a practical context, an how numbers coul tell a story just as vivily as wors can. By reviewing business moels an comparing financial projections to actual returns, one can rea a company's story an ientify areas of potential growth; whether the company then took avantage of these opportunities etermine its success. It wasn't that my role in organizing NZSSCC ha magically taught me to embrace all things mathematical or commercial -- I was still the same person -- but I recognize that no intellectual constraints prevente me from succeeing in Mathematics; I neee only the courage to seize an opportunity for personal growth.

I stoo up an aresse my family: “I’ll o it.” Then, without waiting for the court’s final verict, I crosse the room to embrace my father: an the rest, as they (selom) say, was Mathematics.