人文專業方向留學申請文書範文分享

範例一：人文專(zhuan) 業(ye) 方向

@Yueming

我的爺爺總是戴著一頂紅色棒球帽。我認為(wei) 他喜歡鮮豔的色彩——明亮而樂(le) 觀，就像他一樣。七年前，爺爺從(cong) 中國來拜訪我們(men) ，也帶上了他的紅帽子。六個(ge) 月以來的每個(ge) 晚上，這頂帽子都放在我家樓梯的欄杆上，等待第二天早上再次被戴回到爺爺的頭上。

爺爺隨身攜帶這頂帽子：在家附近，他用帽子表演魔術來逗弟弟笑；在街角的商店，他給我買(mai) 了冰棍，然後用帽子擦去我脖子上的汗珠。如今，每當我看到一頂紅色帽子，我就會(hui) 想起爺爺和他的棒球帽，並露出微笑。

Ye-Ye在普通話中是“祖父”的意思。我的爺爺是一個(ge) 簡單的普通人——既不富有，也不“成功”。但他是我最大的靈感來源，我也崇拜著他。 在所有我認識的人中，爺爺遭遇了最多的苦難，但他也是最快樂(le) 的。這兩(liang) 者能夠在一個(ge) 人身上共存，在我看來真的很了不起。 爺爺是個(ge) 孤兒(er) ，六歲時父母雙亡，留下他和哥哥無家可歸。當其他孩子圍在學校爐子旁看書(shu) 時，爺爺和哥哥隻能冒著嚴(yan) 寒在鐵軌附近尋找用過的煤來換錢。當其他孩子回到慈愛父母的懷抱時，爺爺和哥哥卻在街頭尋找睡覺的地方。

八年後，爺爺禹禹獨行——他的哥哥去世了。 爺爺努力生存，同時自學了閱讀、寫(xie) 作和算術。他微笑著告訴身邊的人，生命是一種饋贈。 多年後，爺爺來到了戈壁灘工作，他和工友每天要工作12小時。沙漠的風是無情的，會(hui) 在半夜奪走他們(men) 的帳篷，讓他們(men) 在第二天早上失去補給。每年，惡劣的天氣都會(hui) 奪走一些工友的生命。

八年後，爺爺被調回了城裏，而妻子臥病在床。一天12小時的工作結束後，爺爺會(hui) 照顧生病的妻子和三個(ge) 年幼的孩子。他和孩子們(men) 坐在一起，向他們(men) 講述沙漠裏的廣袤星空和神秘生活。他微笑著告訴孩子們(men) ，生命是一種饋贈。 但是生活並不容易，爺爺沒有足夠的錢讓一家人免於(yu) 饑餓。但我的父親(qin) 和他的姐妹喜歡和爺爺一起去市場，他會(hui) 給他們(men) 買(mai) 一些母親(qin) 不會(hui) 買(mai) 的小奢侈品，比如一小袋兩(liang) 分錢的葵花籽、三分錢一個(ge) 的糖果。

這些東(dong) 西雖然奢侈，爺爺還是毫不猶豫地買(mai) 了下來。任何能為(wei) 孩子們(men) 帶來笑容並讓他們(men) 腳步輕快的東(dong) 西都是無價(jia) 的。 如今，爺爺仍然會(hui) 去市場。78歲時，他每周騎車幾公裏去買(mai) 一些新鮮水果和蔬菜，然後回家和鄰居分享。他還種了一些草莓和一棵杏樹。當果子成熟時，他就會(hui) 邀請其他孩子來采摘水果和享用食物。他是鄰裏每個(ge) 孩子的慈愛爺爺。

我一直認為(wei) 自己是聰明而敏銳的。但是，了解了爺爺的艱難過往和他積極樂(le) 觀的生活態度以後，我認真地審視自我。我回想起那些不愉快的記憶：媽媽忘了去汽車站接我，我的電腦在提交作業(ye) 的前一天死機了……這些瑣碎而幼稚的小事讓我感到羞愧。

現在，每當我遇到似乎難以招架的困境時，就會(hui) 想起爺爺，看到他戴著紅色棒球帽對我微笑。他的笑容像是一道涼水，將我從(cong) 悲傷(shang) 中喚醒，提醒我那些煩惱是多麽(me) 微不足道，而生命是多麽(me) 慷慨。

如今，我把一頂紅色棒球帽放在家裏的欄杆上，這裏也是爺爺曾擺放帽子的地方。每當我看到這頂帽子，就會(hui) 想起爺爺戴著紅色棒球帽微笑的樣子，我也會(hui) 露出笑容。是的，爺爺。生命是一種饋贈。

點評：Yueming用爺爺棒球帽的故事向讀者展示了自己重視的事物和他重要的性格特點。

以下是英文原文——

@Yueming

My Ye-Ye always wears a red baseball cap. I think he likes the vivid color—bright and sanguine, like himself. When Ye-Ye came from China to visit us seven years ago, he brought his red cap with him and every night for six months, it sat on the stairway railing post of my house, waiting to be loyally placed back on Ye-Ye’s head the next morning.

He wore the cap everywhere: around the house, where he performed magic tricks with it to make my little brother laugh; to the corner store, where he bought me popsicles before using his hat to wipe the beads of summer sweat off my neck. Today whenever I see a red hat, I think of my Ye-Ye and his baseball cap, and I smile.

Ye-Ye is the Mandarin word for “grandfather.” My Ye-Ye is a simple, ordinary person—not rich, not “successful”—but he is my greatest source of inspiration and I idolize him.

Of all the people I know, Ye-Ye has encountered the most hardship and of all the people I know, Ye-Ye is the most joyful. That these two aspects can coexist in one individual is, in my mind, truly remarkable.

Ye-Ye was an orphan. Both his parents died before he was six years old, leaving him and his older brother with no home and no family. When other children gathered to read around stoves at school, Ye-Ye and his brother walked in the bitter cold along railroad tracks, looking for used coal to sell. When other children ran home to loving parents, Ye-Ye and his brother walked along the streets looking for somewhere to sleep. Eight years later, Ye-Ye walked alone—his brother was dead.

Ye-Ye managed to survive, and in the meanwhile taught himself to read, write, and do arithmetic. Life was a blessing, he told those around him with a smile.

Years later, Ye-Ye’s job sent him to the Gobi Desert, where he and his fellow workers labored for twelve hours a day. The desert wind was merciless; it would snatch their tent in the middle of the night and leave them without supply the next morning. Every year, harsh weather took the lives of some fellow workers.

After eight years, Ye-Ye was transferred back to the city where his wife lay sick in bed. At the end of a twelve-hour workday, Ye-Ye took care of his sick wife and three young children. He sat with the children and told them about the wide, starry desert sky and mysterious desert lives. Life was a blessing, he told them with a smile.

But life was not easy; there was barely enough money to keep the family from starving. Yet, my dad and his sisters loved going with Ye-Ye to the market. He would buy them little luxuries that their mother would never indulge them in: a small bag of sunflower seeds for two cents, a candy each for three cents.

Luxuries as they were, Ye-Ye bought them without hesitation. Anything that could put a smile on the children’s faces and a skip in their steps was priceless.

Ye-Ye still goes to the market today. At the age of seventy-eight, he bikes several kilometers each week to buy bags of fresh fruits and vegetables, and then bikes home to share them with his neighbors. He keeps a small patch of strawberries and an apricot tree. When the fruit is ripe, he opens his gate and invites all the children in to pick and eat. He is Ye-Ye to every child in the neighborhood.

I had always thought that I was sensible and self-aware. But nothing has made me stare as hard in the mirror as I did after learning about the cruel past that Ye-Ye had suffered and the cheerful attitude he had kept throughout those years. I thought back to all the times when I had gotten upset. My mom forgot to pick me up from the bus station. My computer crashed the day before an assignment was due. They seemed so trivial and childish, and I felt deeply ashamed of myself.

Now, whenever I encounter an obstacle that seems overwhelming, I think of Ye-Ye; I see him in his red baseball cap, smiling at me. Like a splash of cool water, his smile rouses me from grief, and reminds me how trivial my worries are and how generous life has been.

Today I keep a red baseball cap at the railing post at home where Ye-Ye used to put his every night. Whenever I see the cap, I think of my Ye-Ye, smiling in his red baseball cap, and I smile. Yes, Ye-Ye. Life is a blessing.