約翰霍普金斯大學優秀文書範例+招生官點評

在準備美本申請文書(shu) 時，不少同學都會(hui) 卡在“寫(xie) 什麽(me) ”上。

如果你經曆豐(feng) 富，反而可能因為(wei) 素材太多，不知道該從(cong) 哪裏下筆；如果你覺得自己的生活平平無奇，又常常擔心拿不出能打動招生官的故事……

這時候，看看其他人是怎麽(me) 寫(xie) 的，會(hui) 有意想不到的靈感！

其實很多優(you) 秀的文書(shu) 並不講什麽(me) 轟轟烈烈的大事件，而是從(cong) 生活中最不起眼的小細節切入，反倒是那些平凡瑣事背後的思考和感悟，更容易引起共鳴，也更能打動人心。

約翰霍普金斯大學2028屆錄取學生的6篇優(you) 秀文書(shu) 範例，就非常值得參考，除了文書(shu) 以外，還附帶招生官的點評！

今天老師先帶大家看看其中3篇，另外3篇會(hui) 在後續為(wei) 大家更新～

The Art of Imperfection

是那一抹潑灑在木桌與(yu) 吧凳上的絢麗(li) 色彩，第一次吸引我走進那家緊鄰父母最愛超市的本地美術教室。那年我才七歲，但我已經能讀懂那個(ge) 醒目的紅色招牌：“繪畫課程”。我透過玻璃窗望進去，看著學生們(men) 把鬆節油塗抹在空白畫布上，用鮮豔的底色打出草圖，再用細小畫筆勾勒最後的細節。我被迷住了。

在真正開始上課後，我愛上了這門精細而令人滿足的藝術。很快，繪畫和素描便占據了我所有的閑暇時間——我全身心投入於(yu) 將我觀察到的動物、人像、風景和物體(ti) 的形狀與(yu) 色彩，忠實地還原在畫布上。那些年，我沉浸在創作的快樂(le) 中，老師也常常誇我進步神速。但我當時並不知道，這份對技藝精進的渴望，會(hui) 讓我踏上一條充滿挫折的旅程。

我至今仍清楚記得那次掙紮的情形：我怔怔地盯著那隻木質手模型許久，卻始終無法順利描繪紙麵上的明暗、光影和結構，內(nei) 心隻剩下挫敗、失望與(yu) 無助。為(wei) 了準確地畫出這隻手，我已經反複嚐試了幾個(ge) 小時，但努力似乎毫無意義(yi) 。那天我帶著滿腔的不甘離開了教室，也首次感受到藝術帶來的痛苦。年紀尚小的我，不知如何麵對這份負麵情緒。

休息了幾天之後，好奇心驅使我再度嚐試。這一次，我接受了一個(ge) 現實：我想表達的畫麵，可能無法在第一次，甚至第二次、第三次就成功地呈現出來。經過幾周多次修改，這幅手的素描終於(yu) 令我滿意。並不是因為(wei) 它是我最精湛的作品，而是因為(wei) 這是我第一次直麵一個(ge) 真正的難題，並最終戰勝它。這幅畫也成為(wei) 我最喜歡的作品之一。

真正需要跨越的障礙，並不是那隻手本身，而是繼續堅持下去的勇氣。這場與(yu) 素描的較量，並非能力的考驗，而是對耐心與(yu) 毅力的考察。

去年夏天，我在加州大學伯克利旁聽了一門數據科學課程，同時為(wei) 一位研究生導師實習(xi) 。作為(wei) 唯一的高中生，我身邊全是工程係的大學生，這段經曆遠遠超出了我以往在學校接觸的範疇——以前從(cong) 未接觸的數學概念，一種全新的編程語言。一開始做作業(ye) 時，我常常一坐就是幾個(ge) 小時，依舊無法入門。我開始為(wei) 自己的學習(xi) 速度過慢而感到沮喪(sang) 。

但我提醒自己，這並不是我第一次被熱愛的事物所挑戰。就像過去無數幅畫作一樣，我堅持做實驗，盡管我知道它們(men) 大概率不會(hui) 在頭幾次就運行成功。但在完成了幾項實驗之後，問題開始變得熟悉且易於(yu) 處理，最終，我還運用所學技能建立了追蹤舊金山灣區船舶排放數據的數據集。

這項工作帶來的挑戰，遠遠超過我在任何數學或科學課上經曆過的，但因此也更加充實。雖然挫折令人不安，但這些挑戰不斷激勵我迎難而上。因為(wei) 它們(men) 讓我堅定地相信——挑戰，是成長的機會(hui) 。

—— 2028屆學生 Stella W.

向上滑動閱覽英文原文：

The splash of color that engulfed the wooden tables and bar stools first lured me into a local art studio next to my parents' favorite supermarket. At seven years old, even I could read the big red sign: “Painting Lessons.” I peered through the studio’s glass windows and watched students smear turpentine across blank canvases, create initial sketches in vibrant base coats, and add finishing details with miniature brushes. I was hooked.

After starting the class myself, I fell in love with this meticulous but gratifying process. Eventually, painting and drawing consumed my spare time—I was committed to replicating the shapes and colors I observed in animals, people, landscapes, and objects on canvas. In those early years, I loved every moment and teachers praised my rapid progression. I didn't know then that my aspirations to perfect my skills in this craft would lead me down many roads of frustration.

I remember the struggle vividly: as I stared blankly at that wooden model of a hand for what felt like forever, feelings of frustration, disappointment, and desperation blocked any efforts to continue manipulating the shadows, highlights, and shapes on my paper. I'd spent hours trying to successfully depict this hand model, but my hard work felt meaningless. That day, I left class unsatisfied with my abilities, and distraught by this challenge. Never before had art been a source of such distress, and at a young age I didn't know how to grapple with these feelings.

After taking a break for a couple days, I found myself curious to try again. This time I accepted that what I was striving to convey on paper might not manifest itself on the first, second, or maybe even third attempt. After struggling with several different versions of this drawing over weeks, I finally felt satisfied with my depiction of the human hand. Not because it was the best demonstration of my artistic ability, but rather because tackling a skill that challenged me so thoroughly gave me pride unparalleled by my other works. It became one of my favorite pieces.

The hurdle I needed to overcome was not the task itself; it was being able to continue working at something that didn't come easily. My struggle to illustrate a hand was not a test of my abilities, but rather of my patience and perseverance.

This past summer, I audited a data science class at UC Berkeley while I interned for a graduate researcher. The only high schooler surrounded by college engineers, I was stretched beyond anything I'd delved into in high school: math concepts I had never seen before, a new computer programming language. When I first started tackling the problem sets, I often found myself staring at the page for hours. I started to get frustrated that I was not grasping new concepts fast enough to efficiently work through the course.

But I reminded myself it was not the first time I found myself challenged by something I was passionate about. As with many art pieces in the past, I continued working on the labs with the understanding that they were likely not going to successfully run after my first few—or many—attempts. After completing a few more labs, problems started to become more familiar and easier to handle, and eventually, I started applying the skills I developed in the course to create real data sets that tracked boat emissions in the Bay Area.

This work challenged me more than any math or science class had ever challenged me in my academic career, and as a result the work was that much more rewarding. As frustrating as these challenges are, I am inspired to leap towards them, because they have instilled in me the confidence to view challenges as opportunities for growth.

招生官評語

在這篇文書(shu) 中，Stella深入講述了自己在藝術道路上的探索與(yu) 挑戰。她回顧了童年時對繪畫的熱愛，以及隨著年齡增長，這段關(guan) 係如何發生變化。

Stella展現了自己如何通過接納不完美、耐心堅持，來擁抱這門技藝。她將這些經驗延伸至全新領域的挑戰中，表現出她能將困難視為(wei) 成長的機會(hui) 。

在JHU，這種能力將幫助她飛得更高——在這裏，她將迎接更多全新的同伴與(yu) 機會(hui) ，在動態環境中持續學習(xi) 與(yu) 成長。

Finding Purpose in Trivial Projects

有時候，一塊用作包裝的木板會(hui) 讓我心生一念：“這個(ge) 拿來做一個(ge) 立體(ti) 模型的底座一定很棒。”隨後，靈感往往來自我常去的一棟樓、一條街或某個(ge) 房間 —— 一個(ge) 充滿細節但又不會(hui) 令人眼花繚亂(luan) 的地方。將一個(ge) 場景的複雜細節縮小重現的挑戰讓我興(xing) 奮不已，而設想這個(ge) 場景被微縮後的模樣，也讓我感到無比愉悅。

2020年夏天，我手裏拿著一塊中密度纖維板，那次靈感來源正是我自己的家。雖然建造一棟剛搬進去的房子的微縮模型看起來既不必要又有點浪費時間，我卻在接下來的三個(ge) 月裏，坐下來，帶著顏料、木板，還有從(cong) 未擁有過的充足時間，認真投入到這個(ge) 我真正有動力完成的項目中。沒有其他事情可做時，我開始測量、搭建、組裝 —— 一塊一塊、一層一層地構建我的房子。完成後，我對這個(ge) 作品的用途一無所知，親(qin) 朋好友也對我為(wei) 何如此費力感到困惑。“這做得真棒，但這是你的學校作業(ye) 嗎？”他們(men) 問。

盡管這看起來沒什麽(me) 意義(yi) ，我還是繼續做了更多微縮模型——我們(men) 的餐廳、我家那條街、我的自行車，甚至是我的垃圾桶。每個(ge) 項目都帶來了全新的挑戰。我想為(wei) 那輛紙板做的小自行車加上能運作的齒輪，但該怎麽(me) 做呢？

雖然一再犯錯讓我很沮喪(sang) ，但我最終找到了辦法，用鉤針編出能產(chan) 生足夠摩擦力的“鏈條”帶動紙板齒輪。每完成一個(ge) 項目，我都得學會(hui) 使用一種新材料或膠水—— 有時候作品會(hui) 散架，顏料也會(hui) 剝落。這些問題正是項目最有趣的部分：解決(jue) 一個(ge) 又一個(ge) “微縮難題”的過程帶來的是一種純粹的快樂(le) 。而我也特別以打破“微縮模型脆弱”的刻板印象為(wei) 榮，盡可能讓我的作品堅固耐用。雖然有時候麵對一個(ge) 可能耗時數月的項目會(hui) 想要放棄，但我對製作模型的著迷始終未減，即使我後來比2020年忙碌了很多。

當我思考為(wei) 何“製作微縮模型”成了我的日常，我漸漸意識到它帶給了我很多收獲。在縮小每一個(ge) 場景的過程中，我意外地經曆了大量的計算與(yu) 解決(jue) 問題的過程。麵對結構牆放錯位置或比例失衡的元素時，我必須權衡解決(jue) 方案、判斷何時重頭再來。即便是最小的作品 —— 那個(ge) 微縮垃圾桶，也出於(yu) 對腳踏機製的好奇而誕生。製作模型讓我更關(guan) 注細節，也讓我學會(hui) 尋找讓一個(ge) 對象變得迷人的關(guan) 鍵元素：在嚐試還原新家的過程中，我更加深入地了解了它。

如今，當我走在熙熙攘攘的街道上，總會(hui) 情不自禁地注意到 —— 那道鐵絲(si) 圍欄竟像極了一張鬆散的針織網，或是一根掉落的樹枝也許就是完美的微縮“樹木”。奇妙的是，這種在創意中尋找解決(jue) 方案的思維模式，也回到了我在計算生物學實習(xi) 中從(cong) 事的研究與(yu) 編程工作中：觀察模式，把大問題拆解成微小步驟。

最重要的是，在一塊塊迷你磚塊上作畫、雕刻米粒大小的雕像時，我意識到自己憑著一股決(jue) 心能完成多少事。每個(ge) 新項目開始時，都沒有明確的完結日期，細節上的精雕細琢也常常令人崩潰，尤其是在它們(men) “看起來不對”的時候。但當我把一個(ge) 微縮作品送給親(qin) 友時，正是其中所蘊含的耐心與(yu) 堅持，傳(chuan) 遞了我對他們(men) 的深情。

如今，那些微縮模型或許已在書(shu) 架上積滿灰塵，但每一個(ge) “微不足道”的項目，都是我無數小時努力的成果 —— 它們(men) 見證了我的耐心、付出，以及這一切過程中我所獲得的一切。

—— 2028屆學生 Anjali V.

向上滑動閱覽英文原文：

Occasionally, a wooden board that comes in as packaging makes me think, “That would make a great base for a diorama.” Then, there's a concept that comes from a building, street, or room I'm frequenting, someplace that is brimming with interesting detail yet not overwhelming. The challenge of shrinking down detail in a scene excites me, and it's also delightful to imagine what the scene would look like miniaturised.

During the summer of 2020, with a piece of packaging MDF board in hand, that place happened to be my own home. Although a scale model of a house I'd just moved into seemed frivolous and unnecessary, I sat down with paint, board, and more time than I'd ever had over the next 3 months to work on something I felt genuinely motivated to complete. With nothing else to work on, I measured, constructed, and assembled the house—piece by piece, floor by floor. When I was done, I still had no use for my creation, and friends and family were confused as to why I'd worked so hard on it. “This looks great, but did you do this for a school project?” they'd ask.

Although it seemed trivial, I made more miniatures—of our dining room, my street, my bicycle, and even my dustbin. Each project came with its own challenges. I wanted to make functioning gears on a tiny cardboard bicycle, but how? I'd make frustrating mistakes, but I found my way, crocheting bicycle chains that created enough friction to pull cardboard gears. With every project I completed, I had to learn how to work with a new material or adhesive—sometimes, pieces fell apart or paint would flake off. The issues were what made projects fun; there were simple joys in solving these miniaturised problems, and I took special pride in subverting expectations of fragility by making pieces as sturdy and durable as I could. Although it was sometimes tempting to forfeit projects that went on for months, my inexplicable fascination with making models continued even as I became much busier than I had been back in 2020.

As I wonder why miniature making has become such an integral part of my routine, I've begun to notice just how much I've gained from it. In scaling down each scene, there's been an unanticipated amount of calculation and problem solving. In working through misplaced structural walls or disproportionate elements, there’s solutions to be weighed and decisions to be made about when it's time to start over. Even my smallest project, the miniature dustbin, was made out of curiosesity and a desire to recreate the pedal mechanism. Miniature making has given me a greater attention to detail, as I try to look for details that make a subject appealing: I learnt much more about my new home in an attempt to recreate it. As I walk along a busy street, I can’t help but notice that wire fence bears a striking resemblance to a loose knit, or that a fallen twig would make the perfect mini tree. Strangely enough, searching for solutions in these creative places floods back when I work on research and programming for my computational biology internships, observing patterns and breaking down problems into miniature tasks.

Most importantly, in painting individual bricks and sculpting rice-grain sized statues, I've realised what I'm capable of accomplishing out of determination. Each project I begin has no foreseeable end date, and intricate detail can become just as excruciating when things don't seem to work out. When I gift a miniature to family or friends, it's the patience and resilience involved that expresses how much I care.

My dioramas may be collecting dust on a shelf now, but each ‘trivial’ project is still the result of working hours—a testimony to patience, effort and everything else it has helped me achieve along the way.

招生官評語

Anjali用她的文書(shu) 分享了她製作微縮模型的經曆。她從(cong) 建造搬入新居的模型開始，從(cong) 此開始以更加細膩的視角觀察世界。我們(men) 看到，這份熱情影響了她生活中的方方麵麵。

Anjali反思了她從(cong) 微縮藝術中獲得的樂(le) 趣與(yu) 耐心，而這份自省也幫助招生委員會(hui) 看到了她麵對問題時的策略思維和堅韌精神。我們(men) 有強烈的預感，她將在JHU找到歸屬 —— 在這裏，學生通過多角度思維創造解決(jue) 方案。

Korean Sticky Notes

我們(men) 臥室的門上貼滿了便利貼，每一張都寫(xie) 著一個(ge) 富有意味的韓語單詞。打開門時，我會(hui) 一邊走一邊朗讀它們(men) 。

Hal-in：折扣。

我媽媽曾經笑著說：“Nancy，有時候我覺得你才是大人，我反倒像個(ge) 小孩。”

說得沒錯。我還是個(ge) 孩子，卻已經過著“雙重生活”：既是女兒(er) ，又是媽媽鍥而不舍的理財顧問。每個(ge) 星期六的早晨，我們(men) 都會(hui) 去 H Mart 超市，尋找各種Hai-in（折扣）商品，一邊精打細算，一邊將選中的物品放進購物車。五個(ge) 芒果 $9.99，草莓 $5.50？這是通貨膨脹的經典寫(xie) 照。換成打折的蘋果吧。至於(yu) 巧克力Pepero？不行。到收銀台時，我會(hui) 拿出精心收集的優(you) 惠券，一張張地刷，看著價(jia) 格一次次降低，我無比滿足。

Jeonlyag：策略。

回過頭來看，媽媽那句話道出了一個(ge) 不可否認的事實。我們(men) 從(cong) 小家境拮據，我很早就明白生活中每一分錢都得省著花。那時媽媽失業(ye) 了，四處奔走找工作，努力賺錢來支付我們(men) 兩(liang) 居室的租金。為(wei) 了減輕她這個(ge) “獨自撐起整個(ge) 家”的新角色的負擔，我覺得我有責任帶著Jeonlyag（策略）去看待每一筆支出，確保每一塊錢都用在刀刃上。

Eon-eo：語言。

每天我們(men) 都在叮當作響的計算器聲中算著房租和各種開銷，幾乎把生活的每一部分都量化成了數值與(yu) 效益。然而，當我試圖重新和媽媽談談那些“無法量化”的事，比如感受、回憶或家庭，我卻發現自己張不開嘴，說不出話。盡管我在一個(ge) 雙語家庭中長大，但隨著家庭經濟狀況的惡化，我逐漸變成了媽媽的財務顧問與(yu) 英文翻譯，我的韓語能力卻停滯不前。於(yu) 是我萌生了一個(ge) 願望：我想跨越這道Eon-eo（語言）上的鴻溝，了解媽媽的成長經曆，也更深入地了解我的根與(yu) 文化。

從(cong) 最基礎的學起，我開始聽一些本應是幼兒(er) 園小朋友聽的歌，比如《Pororo》的旋律，把韓文字母刻進腦海。我照著媽媽的字跡，一筆一畫地模仿著寫(xie) 韓語單詞，把它們(men) 抄在便利貼上，貼滿了臥室的門。每天的生活中，我會(hui) 記下所有不認識的新詞，不管是媽媽播放的80年代老情歌，還是韓語廣播電台的新聞。隨著時間推移，越來越複雜的詞匯、各種俗語與(yu) 現代俚語慢慢延展到我們(men) 家的牆壁上。

Daehwa：對話。

隨著這些便利貼越來越多，我和媽媽的Daehwa（對話）也變得更豐(feng) 富。在 H Mart 逛超市時，我會(hui) 請她講講她小時候在首爾的故事。她講述自己小時候光顧街頭小吃攤的經曆，指著貨架上的懷舊零食說那是她最愛的安慰食物。漸漸地，每一張標價(jia) 簽都變成了媽媽回憶的片段。我也越來越想用她的視角看世界：巨峰葡萄、魷魚幹，還有貼著韓元與(yu) 美元雙標價(jia) 的80年代漫畫廣告牌——它們(men) 成了我雙重文化身份的縮影。貨架背後，藏著的是一段段無法用數字衡量的經曆、瞬間與(yu) 情感。

Tamgu：探索。

那一張張便利貼，不隻是韓語單詞，它們(men) 承載著回憶，提醒我：人生太短暫，不能隻透過價(jia) 格標簽看世界。學習(xi) 韓語讓我在每一次逛超市的旅途中重新感受到那個(ge) 不被量化的世界——一個(ge) 充滿溫暖與(yu) 愛的故事世界。如今，每當我推著購物車穿過 H Mart 的各個(ge) 走道，我都會(hui) 重新遇見那些聯結著不同背景、相隔千裏的人的寶貴體(ti) 驗。雖然“家庭財務顧問”仍是我身份的一部分，但我正繼續在人生的通道中行進，努力拓展自我Tamgu（探索）的邊界。

—— 2028屆學生 Nancy P.

向上滑動閱覽英文原文：

A myriad of sticky notes adorn our bedroom door, each bearing a telling Korean word. Opening the door, I repeat them aloud.

Hal-in: Discount.

My mom once joked, “Nancy, sometimes I feel like you're the adult and I'm the child.”

Sure, I was a kid living a double life as my mom's unrelenting financial advisor, spending Saturday mornings marching around H Mart, seeking hal-in and calculating the cost of items making their way into our cart. $9.99 for five mangoes and $5.50 for strawberries? Inflation at its finest. Get the apples on sale instead. Chocolate Pepero—No. Unveiling my prized stack of carefully collected coupons at the register, I eagerly watched the price go down with each swipe.

Jeonlyag: Strategy.

Looking back, my mom's words revealed an undeniable truth. Growing up low-income, I understood that finances were going to be tight. My mom, then-unemployed, scrambled to find a job and worked tirelessly to pay the rent for our two-bedroom apartment. Eager to ease my mom’s sudden burden as our sole provider, I felt compelled to approach every expense with a jeonlyag, ensuring every dollar was spent to its maximum potential.

Eon-eo: Language.

As the clacking of our calculators totaling rent and various other expenses consumed our days, I realized that we had quantified almost every aspect of our life in pursuit of optimal value and utility. When I tried to reconnect with my mom on the unquantifiable aspects of our lives, my mouth went dry, unable to find the Korean words and phrases to express myself. Even having grown up in a bilingual household, my Korean eon-eo skills had fallen behind as our financial situation devolved and I transitioned to the role of financial advisor and translator for my non-English-speaking mom. I wanted to bridge this eon-eo gap and learn more about her upbringing and my own heritage.

Starting with the basics, I listened to songs much too young for my age, Pororo's catchy lyrics ingraining the Korean alphabet into my mind. My mom's handwriting served as a template as I shakily wrote down Korean vocabulary onto sticky notes, plastered along our bedroom door. I noted almost every unfamiliar word or phrase I encountered in my daily life, whether in my mom's 80s ballads that rotated through her playlist or in the Korean news radio. With time, sophisticated words and phrases, sprinkled in with traditional and modern slang, expanded throughout the walls of our home.

Daehwa: Conversation.

As my collection gradually took over our apartment, my daehwa with my mom also grew. As we stroll aisle to aisle at H Mart, I ask my mom to share her childhood stories growing up in Seoul. She recounts visiting street food tents and points out her favorite comfort snacks, nostalgic memories replacing each sticker value. I find myself racing through the aisles, eager to see more of her world through Kyoho grapes, dried squid, and advertisements of 80s manhwa cartoons, labeled in both Korean won and American dollars—a culmination of my own bicultural identity. Beyond the stocked shelves lining the grocery store lay experiences, moments, and relationships that I couldn't quantify.

Tamgu: Exploration.

Hundreds of Korean sticky notes hold memories that vividly remind me that life is too short to view the world through the lens of price tags. My journey to learning Korean helped add another dimension to our grocery excursions that re-introduced me to a world in which stories of warmth and love cannot be measured in dollars and cents. As I push my shopping cart through H Mart's aisles, I discover invaluable experiences thatconnect people of different backgrounds birthed thousands of miles apart. Now I continue to navigate the aisles of life, determined to step beyond my role as a financial advisor, though it remains a part of who I am as I continue my own self tamgu.

招生官評語

Nancy的文書(shu) 展現了她年幼時肩負的責任，以及她由此發展出的探索精神。她帶我們(men) 一起穿梭在 H Mart 的走道中，講述自己如何幫助母親(qin) ，並因此鍛煉出戰略思維。在這些超市之旅中，Nancy逐漸通過母親(qin) 的童年記憶與(yu) 語言學習(xi) ，找回了自己的韓裔身份。她讓我們(men) 看到了她對周圍人真誠的關(guan) 懷，以及那種源於(yu) 好奇心與(yu) 責任感的驅動力。

這些品質會(hui) 幫助她在JHU茁壯成長，在這裏，學生們(men) 彼此支持、欣賞多元視角，共同營造歸屬感滿滿的學習(xi) 社區。