拿下所有藤校offer的文书长什么样？,留美资讯在Happen发生微信公众号文章

金榜题名	校园访问	应用攻略	申请小贴
这里有关于美国维塔斯教育的一切

准备去美国留学的同学和家长们都清楚申请材料中，文书的重要性，我们维塔斯教育也一贯强调真实，感人的文书写作方针。小编之前跟大家分享了一系列文书写作要点和各大学小文书写作窍门。只有申请人充分了解自己，和申请老师一起构思并修改才能拿出一篇代表自身价值观的好文书。这也是优质的留学咨询服务的价值所在。

夸张过分的编造申请人课外活动背景，参与无良中介组织的“高端”付费活动对学生的申请往往起到适得其反的作用。那么问题又来了——到底什么是好文书？

近期美国一位华裔少女凭借过硬的成绩以及出色的文书，斩获全部常春藤学校（包括哈佛，耶鲁，普林斯顿，康奈尔，达特茅斯，布朗和宾大）录取！震惊了美国升学辅导学界。我们维塔斯教育的中美顾问也通过多方联系，获得了该学生（Cassandra Hsiao）的文书原文。让我们一起看看来自普通移民家庭的华裔小女生是如何征服所有藤校招生官的。

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 asexcept, 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.D.s 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 sew 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.