哈佛公开2024录取文书！快看看招生官眼里的“满分”文书长什么样？

I had always dreamed I would dance, and Angelina Ballerina made it seem so easy. There was something so freeing about the way she wove her body into the delicate threads of the Sugar Plum Fairy’s song each time she performed an arabesque. I longed for my whole being to melt into the magical melodies of music; I longed to enchant the world with my own stories; and I longed for the smile that glimmered on every dancer’s face.

At recess, my friends and I would improvise dances. But while they seemed well on their way to achieving ballerina status, my figure eights were more like zeroes and every attempt at spinning around left me feeling dizzy. Sometimes, I even ran over my friends’ toes. How could I share my stories with others if I managed to injure them with my wheelchair before the story even began?

I then tried piano, but my fingers stumbled across the keys in an uncoordinated staccato tap dance of sorts. I tried art, but the clumsiness of my brush left the canvas a colorful mess. I tried the recorder, but had Angelina existed in real life, my rendition of “Mary Had a Little Lamb” would have frozen her in midair, with flute-like screeches tumbling through the air before ending in an awkward split and shattering the gossamer world the Sugar Plum Fairy had worked so hard to build.

For as long as I could remember, I’d also been fascinated by words, but I’d never explored writing until one day in fourth grade, the school librarian announced a poetry contest. That night, as I tried to sleep, ideas scampered through my head like Nutcracker mice awakening a sleeping Clara to a mystical new world. By morning, I had choreographed the mice to tell a winning story in verse about all the marvelous outer space factoids I knew.

Now, my pencil pirouettes perfect O’s on paper amidst sagas of doting mothers and evanescent lovers. The tip of my pen stipples the lines of my notebook with the tale of a father’s grief, like a ballerina tiptoeing en pointe; as the man finds solace in nature, the ink flows gracefully, and for a moment, it leaps off the page, as if reaching out to the heavens to embrace his daughter’s soul. Late at night, my fingers tap dance across the keys of my laptop, tap tap tapping an article about the latest breakthrough in cancer research—maybe LDCT scans or aneuploidy-targeted therapy could have saved the daughter’s life; a Spanish poem about the beauty of unspoken moments; and the story of a girl in a wheelchair who learned how to dance.

As the world sleeps, I lose myself in the cathartic cadences of fresh ink, bursting with stories to be told and melting into parched paper.I cobble together phrases until they spring off my tongue, as if the Sugar Plum Fairy herself has transformed the staccato rumblings of my brain into something legato and sweet. I weave my heart, my soul, my very being into my words as I read them out loud, until they become almost like a chant. With every rehearsal, I search for the perfect finale to complete my creation. When I finally find it, eyes dry with midnight-induced euphoria, I remember that night so many years ago when I discovered the magic of writing, and smile.

I may not dance across the stage like Angelina Ballerina, but I can dance across the page.

I, too, can dance.

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Professional Review by Ivy Institute

⁤In this essay "I, Too, Can Dance," Sarika skillfully describes how she went from wanting to dance like the made-up character Angelina Ballerina to discovering deep fulfillment and a way to express herself via writing. ⁤⁤The essay opens with a detailed account of Sarika"s early fascination in dance, which was sparked by the animated performances she saw on television. ⁤⁤However, we learn that her first attempts to mimic these dancing routines are hampered by her physical constraints in a wheelchair, which complicates and frustrates her young goals.

⁤Despite these difficulties, Sarika"s story is full of tenacity and originality. ⁤⁤Her experiences with other artistic mediums, such as painting and piano, follow a similar pattern of initial enthusiasm followed by an awareness of her physical limitations. ⁤⁤However, these endeavors are presented as stepping stones, each one strengthening her drive and guiding her in the direction of a field in which she may genuinely succeed. ⁤

When Sarika discovers writing, her story takes a dramatic turn. ⁤⁤This realization is not just a solace but also a victorious discovery of her voice. ⁤⁤Writing takes on the role of her dance floor, where words enable her to move gracefully, telling tales and articulating concepts with the same grace and fluidity that performers display on stage. ⁤⁤Sarika describes her writing process using dance-related imagery, such as her pencil "pirouettes" and her narratives "leaping off the page," effectively drawing comparisons between dance and writing. ⁤

⁤Sarika"s profound reflection and her mature realization that artistic expression can take numerous forms are what make her essay so moving.

Sarika"s profound reflection and her mature realization that artistic expression can take numerous forms are what make her essay so moving.⁤⁤She conveys a strong message about accepting one"s abilities and exploring many avenues for artistic expression. ⁤By the time the essay comes to an end, Sarika has come to terms with her destiny and even begun to like it. ⁤⁤She finds happiness in the rhythmic tapping of her keyboard late into the night, creating stories that have the grace and complexity of a dance that has been expertly choreographed.

2.Daniella"s Essay

招生官评价道：“这种结构是大胆而谦逊的。它让Daniella向读者展示而不是告诉读者她是如何思考的，她是如何解决问题的，她是如何坚持的。”

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Each time I bake cookies, they come out differently. Butter, sugar, eggs, flour — I measure with precision, stir with vigor, then set the oven to 375°F. The recipe is routine, yet hardly redundant.