综合早申和常规申请的结果，今年哈佛大学共收到了56,937份申请，最终录取了1924名学生，整体录取率仅有3.41%，竞争非常激烈。
在这样的大环境下，顶尖学霸们标化、课外活动履历其实都已经相差无几了，优秀的文书可能会帮助他们取得意想不到的成绩。
哈佛校报也在近期公布了最新录取哈佛的优秀文书，快来看看哪些在“神仙大战”中胜出的文书都写了什么吧~（文末7篇优秀文书+官方点评免费领）
Samantha's Essay：Samantha C.
招生官评价道：“我喜欢这篇文章！读完第一句话后，我想读更多。到了第三句话的时候，我已经迫不及待地想要见到这个学生了！”
文书内容展示：
I’ve always been a storyteller, but I’ve only been an alleged fish killer since age five. As a child, my head was so filled up with stories that I might have forgotten to feed Bubbles the class pet just one time too often. Once I pulverized an entire pencil, because I was daydreaming instead of taking it out of the sharpener.
More than anything else, I became an obsessive list-maker. I memorized and wrote down long lists of my stuffed animals, cities around the world, and my favorite historical time periods. I created itineraries and packing lists for my Build-A-Bears, then arranged them in rows on a pretend airplane. I drew family trees for a made-up family during the Industrial Revolution. I wrote lists until the spine of my notebook cracked under the weight of graphite.
For a long time, I thought this was something that I alone did, and that I did alone. Lying on the floor of my bedroom, I spun fantastical stories of mundane events. Each story opened and closed in my head, untold and unsung.
Years later, though—to my amazement—I discovered other people who were interested in the same things I was. Wandering into fanfiction websites and online forums, I was welcomed into a vibrant community of writers—serious, silly, passionate people who wrote hundreds of thousands of words analyzing character dynamics and exploring endless plot threads. When I finally started posting my own thoughts, I didn’t feel like I was taking a risk or venturing into new territory. I had been speaking these words to myself since I was five, preparing myself to finally shout them into the real world. And people responded.
Spurred on by this excitement, I started writing stories for other people to read. I had fallen in love with the community writing had given me, and with writing itself. I wanted to contribute my own small piece to a world much bigger than me. I shouted my stories up to the WiFi signals that caught and carried them, waiting to be found by someone else writing lists in her bedroom alone.
In high school, I also found joy in editing. I loved analyzing, polishing, and curating my classmates’ short stories, poems, and artwork to make them shine for my school’s literary magazine. I spent hours with other editors, passionately arguing the merits and weaknesses of dozens of writing pieces. Editing the school newspaper, meanwhile, became a way to spotlight members of the school community, from profiling new staff and faculty to polling the student body about the stigma surrounding menstruation.
I’ve now had my poems published in a national literary journal and have joined the editorial staff of an international literary magazine for teens. I feel like I’m discovering my power, and with it my ability to create change. Last year, I founded SPEAK, a creative writing program for elementary school students. I wanted to assist younger writers so they could create their own communities. During SPEAK sessions, I taught a group of students how to draw a map of a fantasy wolf kingdom they had designed, helped a girl edit her classmate’s poem about hula hoops, and listened to a third-grader talk faster and faster as we discussed the meaning of soup in The Tale of Despereaux.
I’ve now turned SPEAK into a self-sustaining club at my school, and I’m expanding the program onto an online platform. Writing changed my life, but it only happened when I started sharing my work, putting it out there, and starting conversations—not just responding. Alone, stories used to abstract me from the outside world. Now, stories connect me to the world, creating communities instead of pulling me away from them. For too many of us, our stories are born in our heads, and they die there. I’m going to change that, for myself and for as many people as I can bring with me.
文书点评：
I love this essay! After the first sentence, I wanted to read more. By the end of the third sentence, I was already eager to meet this student!
This essay succeeds because we not only get insight into their innate curiosity and imagination but we get a sense of their personal growth. We see the student becoming more confident and finding their place in the larger community. The pop culture and historical allusions are a nice touch which humanize the writing while making it eminently readable. But above all there is a narrative thread of growth. The student sprinkles in occasional accomplishments that are milestones of that growth, but it doesn't feel like a resume or contrived list… it all fits together at the end as we get a sense of their creative process and the importance of story in their life.
Curious, creative, concerned about others... and a sense of personal growth. Lots of great themes and personal attributes that make the reader not only like this student but want to meet them.
Georgina's Essay：‘When Life Doesn’t Gives You Lemons’.
招生官评价道：“申请者抓住了所有四个关键要素——吸引力、锚点、故事和成长——这就是这篇文章成功的原因。”
文书内容展示：
With the blazing morning sun beaming through the window, I had an inclination to make a stand to sell Lebanese laymounada - a light lemonade flavored with a splash of rosewater. Throughout my childhood, anytime the temperature spiked over seventy degrees, there would be laymounada waiting for me at my Teta’s (grandmother in Lebanese Arabic) house.
At that moment, I scoured the cabinets and secured the glass pitcher only to realize we did not have lemons. To my disappointment, I realized my days of being an entrepreneur and generating revenue from my laymounada stand were over before they could even begin. I sat at the kitchen table, wallowing in disappointment. I wanted everyone to be able to taste my Teta’s laymounada. Suddenly, I had an idea that would either prove to be inventive or a total failure. I would sell lemonade without the lemons. Revolutionary, right?
I ripped off a rectangular sheet of paper towel and jotted down my business plan. I listed the key elements of the business plan: a drawing of a cup, a rose, and the price- “fifty scents”- to correlate with the rose-themed business. I sat outside of my childhood home located in a cul-de-sac of five houses and sold my neighbors a rose drink- a combination of filtered water, packets of sugar, and a dash of rosewater. Granted, I only made about $10 from a combination of my parents and generous neighbors who did not drink the “lemonade”, but the experience allowed me to realize regardless of the obstacle, if you are passionate, you can persevere. Teta’s laymounada was my introduction to entrepreneurship.
The entrepreneurial skills gained from my laymounada stand allowed me to establish A&G Jewelry, co-founded with my sister when I was twelve. This business focused on representing our Lebanese heritage. Using supplies we found around our house and from our local craft store, we created a variety of pieces that featured traditional Middle Eastern coins, beads, and clay baked into the shape of Lebanon. My sister and I collaborated to create marketing tools to promote our new business. Before we knew it, A&G Jewelry had earned a spot at my church’s annual Lebanese festival. After tirelessly marketing and selling our jewelry for three days straight, we had made over $900 in revenue, which we decided to donate to the church.
Entrepreneurship took a new form in high school when my sister and I founded our second partnership, The Model Brockton City Council. We saw a need to engage our peers in local government by designing a simulation of our city council. We had to collect signatures, present to many administrators, and market our new club. The initial goal to have more people try my lemonade resonated with me as I strived to have more people engage in their civic duties. Today, over twenty-five of my classmates frequently attend my meetings.
With my first business venture selling laymounada, I made $10; with A&G Jewelry, $900; with the Model Brockton City Council, the revenue amounted to $0. Although there was not a financial gain, I attained experience as a negotiator, problem solver, creative thinker, and most importantly, I became persistent.
Twelve years have passed since that summer day with my “laymounada,” and I have yet to maintain a long-lasting business. My six-year-old self would have seen this lack of continuity as a colossal failure, but instead, it instilled an intense curiosity in me. Little did I know the experience would remain so vivid after all these years. It has continued to push me, compelling me to challenge myself both academically and entrepreneurially. As I grow older, my intrinsic drive to have a lemonade stand, regardless of whatever obstacles come my way, persists as a deep-seated love of business.
When life doesn’t give you lemons, still make lemonade (or laymounada, as my Teta would say).
文书点评：
Many successful college essays follow a simple formula: Hook + Anchor + Story + Growth. While the specifics may vary, you’ll have a compelling essay if you can include each of these four elements.
Hook: The job of the “hook” is to draw the reader in. Admissions officers read hundreds of essays every day, so try to grab their attention right away. Start your essay with something intriguing or different.
Georgina’s hook is her “laymounada” stand. What’s so special about Lebanese laymounada? How’s it different from regular lemonade? Who’s Teta? Georgina piques the reader's curiosity with her cultural twist on the classic lemonade stand story.
Anchor: The “anchor” is an idea or theme that connects the entire essay, giving it meaning. A great anchor is thought-provoking, leaving readers feeling satisfied after finishing the piece.
Georgina’s anchor is the idea that life did not give her lemons. She couldn’t find a single lemon in her home, so she had to get creative and sell lemon-free laymounada. This experience taught her perseverance, leading to a string of other entrepreneurial ventures. Finally, the essay returns to this anchor to tie everything together: “When life doesn’t give you lemons, still make lemonade (or laymounada, as my Teta would say).”
Story: When it comes to telling a story, the golden rule is “show, don’t tell.” Don’t just tell admissions officers what a great person you are. Instead, try to show them your personality, character, and accomplishments through your story.
In Georgina’s story, she shares all the colorful details that made her lemonade stand experience memorable for her. For example, she sprinkles in fun details like pricing her drink as “fifty scents” to fit the rose theme. She also jokes that the $10 she made mostly came from supportive parents and generous neighbors who didn’t even bother drinking the “lemonade.”
These details paint Georgina as fun, creative, and enterprising, while also showing her humility. She also does a great job weaving in how she was driven to make an impact on her community: “After tirelessly marketing and selling our jewelry for three days straight, we had made over $900 in revenue, which we decided to donate to the church.”
Growth: All great college essays clearly show how you’ve grown from your experiences. Be sure to highlight what you’ve learned or gained from your experiences.
For example, Georgina learned that her lack of continuity in her business ventures was not a "colossal failure." Instead, it cultivated her curiosity, ability to persist, and love of business. By the end of the essay, it’s clear that Georgina is someone who’s passionate (about business), with a track record of carving out her own path. She’s able to take lessons from each experience and apply them in her next endeavors.
Georgina nails all four of these key elements—hook, anchor, story, and growth—and that’s why this essay succeeds.
Una's Essay
这篇文章成功地传达了Una的个人旅程、她对音乐的热爱，以及她对协作和无私的变革力量的理解。
叙事结构、生动的描述、脆弱性、反思的基调，以及读者感官、反思基调的融合，使Una的文章引人入胜、有影响力、令人难忘。
文书内容展示：
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.
文书点评：
Una’s personal journey with her growth as a musician makes this essay work. She immediately captures the reader's attention with a powerful and introspective statement about her name. The desire to cover the world with her name and graffiti as a form of self-expression at a young age adds an element of curiosity and individuality. Una’s recognition of potential consequences and her ultimate desire to take responsibility demonstrates her integrity and self-awareness.
A strong essay incorporates vulnerability. Una shows hers comes as she explores her journey describing the physical and mental difficulties involved in playing the piano, along with the feeling of loneliness and pointlessness. She also creates a sense of perseverance and determination in the face of her obstacles.
The essay truly shines when Una describes her transformative experience at the chamber music concert. Her openness and profound realization about the power of music to connect people is truly moving.
Una’s essay further showcases her commitment to music through her diverse performances in various settings. Understanding the collaborative nature of chamber music and her willingness to let others shine through demonstrate Una’s growth as a musician and an appreciation for the beauty that can be created through teamwork.
Una concludes the essay with the realization that creating something beautiful in music doesn't require being the loudest or the star. She embraces the idea of breathing in unison with her friends and finding joy in letting others shine through. This insight reflects her growth as a musician and her understanding of the importance of collaboration and shared experiences.
Overall, this essay successfully communicates Una’s personal journey, her love for music, and her understanding of the transformative power of collaboration and selflessness. The narrative structure, vivid descriptions, vulnerability, reflective tone, and incorporation of the readers senses, reflective tone make Una’s essay engaging, impactful, and memorable.
Amy's Essay：‘The Color of Everything’
这是一篇出色的、发人深省的文章，以“求知欲”为中心，使用生动的描述性语言将有趣的科学理论、颜色和视觉研究联系起来，展示我们有限或广泛的知识如何塑造我们的现实和经验。
文书内容展示：
There’s a theory that even though each color has a specific wavelength that never changes, how people perceive a specific color may have subtle differences based on small differences in photoreceptors, and the color that one person might consider red might still be red in another’s mind but could look different— a little duller, softer, cooler. Furthermore, how a person’s brain processes the color may also be linked to that person’s environment. Some studies have suggested that color sensitivity could be linked to one’s native languages: for example, people who speak languages that have specific names for eleven colors are able to easily distinguish those eleven colors, but people who speak languages with fewer color specific words may have a harder time distinguishing them.
So it appears that even at the most elementary level of sight, the world is not an objective thing. Instead, what we know and what we remember can influence what and how we see. The color blue may just be the color blue to a three year old, perhaps her favorite color even, but an adult might connect it to so much more—the lake by his childhood home or the eye color of a loved one.
I first consciously became aware of the power that our experiences have to change perception when I went to turn on a light in my house after learning about photons in class. What had previously been a mundane light suddenly became a fascinating application of atomic structure, and I thought that I could almost perceive the electrons jumping up and down from energy level to energy level to produce the photons that I saw. I then realized that my world had steadily been changing throughout my years in school as I learned more and more. I now see oligopolies in the soda aisles of the supermarkets. I see the charges warring with each other in every strike of lightning, and the patterns of old American politics still swaying things today. Knowledge and making connections with that knowledge is the difference between seeing the seven oceans glittering in the sun and merely seeing the color blue. It’s the difference between just seeing red and seeing the scarlet of roses blooming, the burgundy of blood pumping through veins, and crimson of anger so fierce that you could burst. Knowledge is color; it is depth, and it is seeing a whole new world without having to move an inch.
It is knowledge, too, that can bring people together. I love listening to people’s stories and hearing about what they know and love, because if I learn about what they know, I can learn how they see the world; consequently, since behavior is often based upon perception, I can understand why a person behaves the way they do. On a road trip during the summer, my mom kept looking up at the streetlights lining the highways. When I asked why, she told me that whenever she saw lights by a highway she would wonder if her company had made them. She would guess how tall they were, how wide, and what style they were. She told me that ever since she started working for her company, lights no longer were just lights to her. They were a story of people who first had to measure the wind speed to figure out what dimension the lights had to be, and then of engineers, of money passing hands—possibly even under her own supervision as an accountant—and then of transportation, and of the people who had to install them. I might never perceive lights the exact way my mother does or see her “red” but by hearing her describe what she knows, I can understand her world and realize her role in ours.
Beauty and color are in the world, but it is seeking the unknown and making new connections that unlocks them from their greyscale cage.
文书点评：
Amy crafts a standout, thought-provoking essay centered on ‘intellectual curiosity’ using vivid, descriptive language to connect intriguing scientific theories, studies on colors and sight to showcase how our limited or expansive knowledge can shape our reality and experiences. Evident throughout the essay is Amy’s continuing passion and growth to learn and connect her knowledge to her surroundings to find hidden truths. That one can seek to understand another’s behavior or perception by learning their knowledge or story is a simple yet deeply profound, macro theme- the curiosity for knowledge, truth, sharing ideas and experiences can undeniably bring many people together. I am reminded of the discoverer of special and general relativity Albert Einstein’s famous self-quote: “I have no special talent. I am only passionately curious.”
The essay is very well-structured; each paragraph further illuminates Amy’s thirst for new information and connection. In paragraphs 1-2, she begins with a fascinating scientific backdrop of how colors, despite having a particular wavelength, can be visually different to two people based on the number of languages they know. This is captivating; I want to read more! She seamlessly ties theories and studies on colors to deduce that our world is not a one-size-fits-all journey and our individual education, experiences can change what we see and how.
In paragraph 3, Amy exemplifies her first ‘A-ha’ moment, realizing and visualizing her classroom learning of the true scientific process of photon particles emanating from her “mundane light”! Her sponge-like mind, soaking in new streams of data within her growing world, begins connecting everyday activities to big-picture ideas- economics, natural phenomenon, and politics. This is very well explicated!
Paragraph 4 is a gamechanger. Her education-to-social-understanding mantra further enlightens us: education, open-mindedness and learning about others’ stories, experiences can indeed create bridges between seemingly different worlds. Amy provides a final example using her own mother’s awareness of highway streetlights to show that anyone can connect their knowledge, experiences with their environment. Amy closes superbly imparting wisdom from her own life and clear introspection for “seeking the unknown and making connections.”
Overall, Amy builds to a potent conclusion: Education, empathy, listening, understanding, and connecting, all drive her intellectual passion for life. Citing her desire to understand all things, especially people, Amy portrays herself as a passionately curious and likable student- an ideal addition to a vibrant academic community.
由于篇幅原因，剩下几篇文书和点评内容，小林已为大家打包好，翰林学员可直接向自己的顾问老师领取哦~
扫码免费领取福利！
总而言之，想要从数以万计的优秀文书中脱颖而出，除了日常词汇的积累，丰富的生活阅历和见多识广的眼界都是必不可少的！
