进入哈佛大学不仅仅需要完美的成绩或考试分数——关键在于如何讲述你的故事。哈佛校报刚刚公布了今年10篇录取学生的优秀申请文书，每一篇都得以窥见真实的声音、真实的故事，这也是帮助他们脱颖而出的原因。
当下正值2026Fall申请季准备文书的关键时刻，机构顾问第一时间把这些文书范例整理出来，需要的同学赶紧收藏学习起来，没准能给你一些写作上的思路和灵感启发。
《10篇成功的哈佛申请文书》
01
Claire's Essay
In my vision I focus on a lone front tooth backdropped by a black abyss; thin lips dance around it in motions forming words, yet I can’t seem to hear them.
In the kitchen behind my grandfather sits his definition of luxury — a now stale and cold Filet-o-Fish from the Beijing McDonald’s. American basketball plays on the television across from where we’re sitting on the sofa; players’ shoes squeak and balls bounce louder in my ears than those words. In this moment, his Mandarin goes in one ear and out the other. I don’t listen the way I do when he’s screaming at my mother, a bitter, blind rage fueled by undercurrents of fear and “I miss you.”
My focus blurs, and the tooth disappears. Basketball fades to silence, and I’m on the airplane home to America. We’re separated once more by an ocean and three thousand unspoken miles. It’s a whirlwind; five years pass, and my few apathetic summers in China are over before I can blink twice.
The last clear memory I have is waking up on my thirteenth birthday to my dad handing me the landline kept for international phone calls: “Waigong has something he wants to read to you.”
It is a poem that he had written about me. Through the phone, I could do nothing but hear his voice, static worsening the Mandarin already slurred by missing teeth. The poem says everything he loved about his granddaughter, everything he saw in her, despite barely knowing her. It is a reflection of last dreams, visions, and hopes of his own.
He was gone not long after that, once more turned to forever.
It wasn’t until I found myself chancely entrenched in poetry because of a mandatory school competition that I began to think deeply about this disconnected relationship. Poetry Out Loud’s anthology introduced me to hundreds and hundreds of poems, and I felt like a hungry child at a buffet. When I discovered “Old Men Playing Basketball” by B.H. Fairchild, I saw tired arms and shaky hands as a pure geometry of curves, hobbling slippers as the adamant remains of that old soft shoe of desire. In words, I was safe to miss my grandfather for all the things that made him human. For the first time in my life, I began to realize that I might have a love for beautiful words that ran deep in my blood, a love that couldn’t be lost in translation.
On that makeshift podium in the school cafeteria my sophomore year, “Old Men Playing Basketball” becomes “Waigong Playing Basketball.” I’m taken back to that sofa in Beijing one more time, where he takes my small hand into his tremoring one covered by gray-brown patches of melasma, where he tells me, “You are a gift, a wonder. You are a hu die.” Butterfly: my Chinese name. Born to one day fly.
But it is no longer his voice I hear. It is my own— crisp and clear, raw and strong. The poem becomes the glass wand of autumn light breaking over the backboard, where boys rise up in old men. I see the whole scene this time, not just tooth and abyss. I hear every word.
Perhaps I will never be able to know my grandfather beyond his love of basketball and poetry, or hear his voice read me another poem. But when I am stirred by beautiful lines or liberated by my pen on paper, I know I am one of two same hearts, forever bound together by the permanence and power of language.
I am a vessel in flight, listening, writing, speaking to remember histories, to feel emotion, to carry forth dreams and visions and hopes of my own. My grandfather becomes an elegant mirage of a basketball player, carried by a quiet grace along my trail of spoken words floating upwards toward heaven.
原文翻译
在我的视野中央，一颗孤零零的门牙悬浮在漆黑深渊之前，薄嘴唇围绕着它舞动出无声的词句。
厨房里，祖父身后摆着他眼中的奢侈品——一份已经冷透的北京麦当劳鳕鱼汉堡。美式篮球赛在对面电视里播放，球鞋摩擦声与篮球撞击声在我耳中竟比那些唇语更清晰。此刻他说的普通话从左耳进右耳出，不像他呵斥母亲时我会竖起耳朵——那些带着"我想你"的酸楚盲怒，总裹挟着恐惧的暗流。
视线开始失焦，门牙消失了。篮球声渐隐，我坐在返美的航班上。我们再次被海洋与三千英里未言明的距离隔开。光阴似箭，五个寒暑掠过，我在中国那些心不在焉的夏天还没等来第二次眨眼就已终结。
十三岁生日清晨，父亲递来专门接国际长途的座机："外公要给你念首诗。"这是最后的清晰记忆。
那是他写给我的诗。电话那端，缺失的牙齿让他口齿含糊，电流杂音更添模糊。诗句道尽了他对孙女全部的爱与期许，尽管我们几乎陌生。那是他最后梦境与愿景的映照。
不久后，他化作永恒的彼岸。
直到偶然因学校强制比赛陷入诗歌世界，我才开始审视这段失联的亲情。"诗歌朗诵"选集里，我像饿童闯进盛宴。读到B·H·费尔柴德的《打篮球的老头》时，颤抖的手臂成了纯粹的几何曲线，蹒跚的拖鞋化作欲望之舞的倔强残响。在文字里，我终于能安全地怀念祖父身上的人性光辉。生平第一次，我意识到对文字的挚爱或许早已流淌在血脉里，这种爱永远不会在翻译中迷失。
高二那年，学校食堂临时搭起的讲台上，《打篮球的老头》变成了《外公打篮球》。我再度回到北京那个客厅，他斑驳的手握住我的小手说："你是奇迹，是礼物，是蝴蝶。"蝴蝶——我的中文名，生来就要飞翔。
但此刻我听见的不再是他的声音，而是我自己清越有力的嗓音。诗句化作秋日玻璃棒，在篮板碎成金光，我看见少年从老朽躯壳里跃起。这次不再是牙齿与深渊的碎片，而是完整的图景，每个字都清晰可闻。
也许我永远只能通过篮球与诗歌认识祖父，再听不到他为我读诗。但当美丽诗句让我战栗，当钢笔在纸上自由奔驰时，我知道有两颗相似的心，永远被语言的永恒力量紧密相连。
我是一只飞翔的器皿，倾听、书写、诉说，为了铭记历史，感受情感，承载属于自己的梦想与愿景。祖父化作优雅的篮球手幻影，沿着我飘向天堂的词句小径，踏着静谧的优雅款款而行。
文书点评
这篇哈佛申请文书以诗意的语言和深刻的意象，讲述了一段跨越文化与代际的亲情故事，展现了作者对语言、记忆和身份的思考。文章通过祖父的篮球、电话里的诗歌和"蝴蝶"的象征，将个人成长与文学感悟紧密结合，既体现了真挚的情感，又彰显了成熟的写作能力和思想深度。全文结构精巧，意象丰富，语言优美，不仅成功塑造了一个有血有肉的人物形象，更通过文字的力量传达了跨越时空的情感联结，完美呈现了作者独特的人文视角和学术潜力，是一篇兼具文学性与思想性的优秀文书。
02
Alexander's Essay
The mouthwatering scent of beef broth brought back a flood of childhood memories as it wafted around me. After a 12-hour drive from Florida to Texas, the familiar smell meant I was in ""bep cua bà"", or ""grandma's kitchen"" in Vietnamese. Every summer when my family visited my grandparents' house, my grandma always had a steaming pot of pho ready for us when we arrived, and this time was no exception. For my family, pho was more than a Vietnamese delicacy: it symbolized bringing us together over a warm, hearty meal. This specific visit, however, came with a change of perspective; as a young adult who was now conscious of his cultural roots, I wanted to learn more about my heritage by learning how to cook pho from my grandma.
As she boiled the water, my grandma stressed to me, ""Every bowl of pho needs a strong foundation: the broth."" Without a good broth, she explained, none of the other ingredients mattered. As I stood over the boiling pot, I thought about my own foundation: my family. My parents immigrated to America after the Vietnam War with nothing and had to work tirelessly to accomplish the celebrated ""American Dream"". From taking me to a 7 am student government fundraiser or a 10 pm baseball game in a city five hours away, I would not have been able to participate in these activities, which I consider an integral part of my identity, without their support. Being fortunate enough to have a strong foundation in my life has allowed me to be a strong foundation for others. For example, as an upperclassman on my varsity baseball team, I strive to be available for my teammates. Last season, when a younger teammate was struggling in a few games, I stayed back after practice to work with him on his fielding before driving him home, even though he lived almost an hour away. This small gesture was a reflection of my attempt to build a strong foundation for others.
As I watched the broth simmer in a giant pot that my grandma had continuously stirred for two days, she imparted another bit of wisdom onto me: making a great bowl of pho was also all about balance. Simply taking a great broth and indiscriminately adding to it would not suffice; each of the ingredients had to be in perfect balance with each other. Balance was never really something I considered until recently, when I experienced the struggle that can come from its absence. When I suffered a stress fracture in my lower back a few years ago that left me unable to play baseball for the foreseeable future, I felt as if suddenly a major part of my identity had been stripped away. I struggled with this new reality for a while until I realized I could fill this temporary void by acting as a mentor for my younger teammates. Additionally, with my newfound spare time, I was able to further develop my interest in Mu Alpha Theta, which gave me a new, enriching opportunity to compete in mathematics competitions. By the time I was finally cleared to play, I had developed a fresh appreciation for the importance of maintaining a balance among all the activities I did, as I had experienced firsthand the empty feeling of having this balance stripped away.
While putting the finishing scallions in the bowl, I reflected on the delectable meal I helped create and realized that what had started out as me simply wanting to learn more about my heritage became something more poignant: an introspection. Although there may not be a single perfect recipe for pho, by applying my grandma's cooking principles in my everyday life, whether it be in baseball, my volunteer lab experience, or my service trip to Guatemala, I hope to be able to make a ""bowl of pho"" that is perfect for me.
原文翻译
那令人垂涎的牛肉汤香气在我周围萦绕，唤起了如潮水般涌来的童年记忆。从佛罗里州驱车12小时抵达德克萨斯后，这熟悉的气味意味着我来到了越南语称为"bep cua bà"（奶奶的厨房）的地方。每年夏天我们全家来看望祖父母时，奶奶总会备好一锅热气腾腾的河粉等着我们，这次也不例外。对我家而言，河粉不仅是一道越南美食，更象征着让我们围坐享用温馨盛宴的团聚时刻。但这次探访带来了新的视角——作为开始关注文化根源的年轻人，我渴望通过向奶奶学习烹饪河粉来深入了解家族传统。
当奶奶烧开水时，她郑重地告诉我："每碗河粉都需要坚实的基础：高汤。"她解释道，没有好高汤，其他配料都毫无意义。我站在沸腾的锅前，想到了自己的人生根基：我的家人。父母在越战后一无所有地移民美国，通过不懈奋斗才实现了所谓的"美国梦"。无论是清晨七点送我去参加学生会筹款活动，还是深夜载我去五小时车程外的城市参加棒球赛，正是他们的支持让我能参与这些塑造自我身份的重要活动。有幸拥有坚实人生根基的我，也努力成为他人的依靠。作为校棒球队的高年级成员，我总是尽力帮助队友。上个赛季，当一位年轻队员连续几场比赛表现不佳时，我在训练结束后留下来陪他练习守备，再驱车近一小时送他回家。这个小小举动正是我试图为他人构筑基础的缩影。
看着奶奶持续搅拌两天的大锅里翻滚的高汤，她又传授了另一则智慧：烹制完美的河粉讲究平衡。仅凭上好高汤而随意添加配料远远不够，每种食材都必须完美调和。直到几年前遭遇腰椎应力性骨折、被迫暂停棒球生涯时，我才真正体会到失衡的代价。当这项构成我身份核心的运动突然被剥夺，我在迷茫中逐渐领悟到可以通过指导年轻队友填补空缺。同时，新获得的空闲让我得以深耕数学兴趣，在Mu Alpha Theta社团的竞赛中找到新的成长空间。待到伤愈归队时，我已深刻理解了保持人生平衡的重要性——因为亲身体验过这种平衡被打破后的空洞感。
当最后撒上青葱时，我凝视着参与完成的佳肴，意识到这趟寻根之旅已升华成更深刻的自我觉察。也许世上不存在完美的河粉配方，但将奶奶的烹饪哲学运用于棒球场、实验室志愿服务或危地马拉义工之旅中，我终能为自己熬制一碗完美的人生之味。
文书点评
这篇哈佛申请文书以越南传统美食“河粉”为线索，巧妙串联起家庭根基、文化认同与个人成长。作者通过奶奶烹饪河粉的智慧——“高汤是基础”（家庭支持）、“平衡是关键”（挫折后的调整）、“完成是感悟”（自我认知）——隐喻自己的人生哲学，展现了移民后代在双重文化中的反思与韧性。全文情感真挚而不煽情，细节生动（如驱车送队友、腰椎受伤后的转变），既体现对传统的珍视，又突出服务他人与学术探索的潜力，完美契合哈佛对“思想深度与社区贡献”的期待。
03
Barry's Essay
I woke up one morning to the usual noise in the kitchen. “That plate of porridge is mine,” my brother yelled outrageously at my sister, “leave it or else I will beat you up.” Food scrambles and fights were order of the day in the family I was raised. The size of one’s meal would be determined by one’s age. You had to fight for food at times, or else hunger would eat you alive. Living with ten siblings in a polygamous family is not the definition of tranquility. However, I have learned more from this revolving door than I could have been taught in solitary silence. Beyond chaos, there is a whisper that teaches the benefits of unselfish concern.
My mother was a teacher, but her salary could not sustain the big family. Almost every day, she would wake up early in the morning before work and go to the fields. My parents were shadowy figures whose voices I heard vaguely in the morning when sleep was shallow, and whom I glimpsed with irresistibly heavy eye-lids as they trudged wearily into the house at night. We sat together as a whole family on special occasions. After a bumper harvest, my parents would sell their crops in the neighborhood. I vividly remember my mother counting proceeds from the crop sale, her dark face grim, and I think now, beautiful. Not with the hollow beauty of well-simulated features, but with a strong radiance of one who has suffered and never yielded. “This is for your school fees arrears,” she would murmur making a little pile. “This is for the groceries that we borrowed from Mr Kibe’s store,” and so on. The list was endless. We would survive at least for the present.
My father instilled in me the importance of education. I would see the value of education every time I shook hands with him; the scratches and calluses from the field in his hands were enough motivation. After every award I received, he would firmly shake my hands as a sign of profound pride. My tacit prayer was to ease his pain one day. Unfortunately this was never to come true, he died on 5 February 2016 in a car accident, only a week before I received my IGCSE O LEVEL results and I had attained 14 straight A grades, standing out to be one of the top performers in the country. After my father’s death, his brothers took everything that he had acquired.
Inevitably, circumstances forced me to take a break from school in January 2017 and bear my share of the eternal burden at home. I had to take care of my mother whose health was deteriorating. I would spend the day doing household chores, and the nights were times of intensive study. It was on my mother’s deathbed when I was fully convinced that she was a seasoned fighter. “Barry,” she called me, “I am not going to die till you finish school.” In order not to disillusion that extraordinary faith in her voice, I assured her that she was going to live. Unfortunately, she succumbed to death on the 15th of March 2017. I “died” with her. My belief in the God she had ardently prayed to till the time of her demise was shaken.
Already laid waste by poverty and pain, I went back to school through the generosity of strangers. School became a battleground for victory. I came back to life determined than ever before. I out-performed the country boys who mocked my struggle. I went on to win accolades in the National and Regional Mathematics Olympiads and was awarded the Higher Life Foundation Scholarship that was going to pay my fees throughout high school.
Today, I am an epitome of a black, double-orphaned, African boy who lost everything he ever valued, but refused to give up on his dream.
原文翻译
某天清晨，我在厨房的喧闹声中醒来。"那盘粥是我的！"弟弟冲着妹妹厉声吼道，"敢碰我就揍你！"在我成长的这个家庭里，争抢食物早已是家常便饭。每餐的分量全凭年龄决定，有时若不奋力争夺，就只能忍受饥饿的煎熬。在拥有十个兄弟姐妹的大家庭里生活，从来都与"宁静"二字无缘。但正是这扇旋转不休的生活之门，教会了我独处永远无法领悟的道理——在混沌之外，总有个声音在低语，讲述着无私关怀的力量。
母亲是位教师，但微薄的薪水难以支撑这个庞大家庭。几乎每个黎明，她都会在上班前摸黑下地劳作。父母的身影总是朦胧的，清晨浅眠时能听见他们模糊的说话声，深夜他们拖着疲惫身躯归来时，我总困得睁不开眼。唯有特殊日子才能全家团聚。丰收季节，父母会挨家挨户售卖作物。至今仍清晰记得母亲数着卖粮钱的模样：黝黑的面庞紧绷着，如今想来却美得惊心——不是精致五官堆砌的虚浮之美，而是历经磨难却永不屈服的坚韧光辉。"这些补交学费"，她轻声说着摞起一小叠，"这些还基贝先生的杂货铺欠款"……清单永远列不完，但至少我们又能捱过眼前难关。
父亲用布满老茧的双手为我诠释教育的价值。每当我与他握手，田间劳作留下的每一道伤痕都是无声的鞭策。每次获奖后，他紧握我手掌时的力度，胜过千言万语的骄傲。我总暗自祈祷有朝一日能减轻他的负担，可惜天不遂人愿——2016年2月5日，就在我IGCSE考试斩获14个A级、成为全国顶尖考生的一周前，父亲因车祸猝然离世。他走后，叔父们卷走了全部家产。
2017年1月，残酷现实迫使我在家中分担重担。母亲健康状况急剧恶化，我白天操持家务，深夜挑灯苦读。直到她弥留之际，我才真正读懂这位战士般的女性。"Barry，"她唤我，"不见你毕业，我绝不会合眼。"为不辜负她声音里惊人的信念，我强忍悲痛保证她会康复。然而3月15日，母亲还是永远离开了。那一刻，我的灵魂随她一同死去，连她临终前仍虔诚祷告的上帝，此刻也显得如此可疑。
在贫困与痛苦的双重打击下，我靠着陌生人善心重返校园。这里成为我涅槃重生的战场。我以惊人毅力卷土重来，让那些嘲笑我的同学望尘莫及。先后斩获全国及地区数学奥林匹克大奖，更获得"崇高生命基金会"的全额奖学金，得以完成高中学业。
如今，我这个失去至亲、一无所有的非洲孤儿，依然倔强地紧握梦想。
文书点评
这篇哈佛申请文书以极具感染力的叙事和深刻的成长反思，展现了一个在非洲贫困家庭中挣扎求生，却凭借非凡毅力与学术天赋逆天改命的少年形象。
文中对父母牺牲的细腻刻画（母亲数钱时的坚韧之美、父亲茧手的无声激励）与双亲离世后的绝地重生形成强烈对比，最终通过数学竞赛荣誉和奖学金实现救赎。
全文将个人苦难升华为对人类韧性的礼赞，既体现了非洲文化特有的家庭困境，又展现了普世推崇的学术拼搏精神，完美契合哈佛大学寻找"用教育改变命运的世界公民"的核心价值观。
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