3篇约翰霍普金斯大学优秀范文分享！附JHU点评！

约翰霍普金斯大学（简称：JHU）有一个叫「Essays That Worked」的栏目，每年都会收录数量不等的被JHU录取的优秀学生文书。

当中的每一篇文书，申请者都通过自己的讲述方式向招生官传达了自身性格、价值观和生活与JHU相符的地方。

到底什么样的文书才是招生官想看到的呢？招生官眼里的好文书是什么样的呢？今天，我们就来一起看看约翰霍普金斯大学的“3篇优秀范文”。

怦然心动的文书 | 3篇约翰霍普金斯大学优秀范文分享！附JHU点评！

▲约翰霍普金斯大学官网中该栏目的页面

01约翰霍普金斯大学新生范文

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.

中文翻译

那抹色彩斑斓的画面首先吸引了我，它笼罩着木制餐桌和吧台凳，让我走进了父母最喜欢的超市旁边的一家本地艺术工作室。七岁那年，我就能认出那块醒目的红色招牌：“绘画课程”。我透过工作室的玻璃窗，看着学生们在空白画布上涂抹松节油，用鲜艳的底色勾勒出初步草图，再用小号画笔添加细节。我彻底被吸引了。

在自己开始上课后，我深深爱上了这个既精细又令人满足的过程。最终，绘画和素描占据了我所有的空闲时间——我致力于在画布上复制我观察到的动物、人物、风景和物体的形状与色彩。在那些早期岁月里，我享受每一刻，老师们也称赞我进步迅速。当时我并不知道，我对精进这项技艺的渴望会让我走上许多充满挫折的道路。

我清楚地记得那种挣扎：当我呆呆地盯着那只木制的手部模型，感觉过了很久，挫败感、失望和绝望的情绪阻碍了我继续在纸上处理阴影、高光和形状的努力。我花了数小时试图成功描绘这只手部模型，但我的努力似乎毫无意义。那天，我对自己的能力感到不满，并对这一挑战感到沮丧。艺术从未给我带来如此大的困扰，而年幼的我也不知道如何应对这些情绪。

休息了几天后，我发现自己好奇地想再试一次。这次我接受了这样一个事实：我试图在纸上表达的内容可能不会在第一次、第二次，甚至第三次尝试中就呈现出来。经过数周与这幅画作的多次版本搏斗后，我终于对人类手部的描绘感到满意。并非因为这是我艺术能力的最佳展示，而是因为攻克这一彻底挑战我的技能，让我获得了其他作品无法比拟的自豪感。它成为我最喜爱的作品之一。

我需要克服的障碍并非任务本身，而是能够持续投入到一件并不容易的事情中。我绘制手部的挣扎并非对能力的考验，而是对耐心与毅力的考验。

去年夏天，我在加州大学伯克利分校旁听了一门数据科学课程，同时为一名研究生研究员实习。作为唯一一名高中生，我被大学工程师们包围，面临着高中从未接触过的挑战：从未见过的数学概念、全新的编程语言。当我第一次开始解决作业问题时，常常会盯着页面发呆数小时。我开始感到沮丧，因为自己无法快速掌握新概念，从而高效地完成课程。

但我提醒自己，这并非第一次在热爱的领域遇到挑战。就像过去许多艺术作品一样，我继续进行实验，明白它们可能在第一次或多次尝试后都无法成功运行。完成更多实验后，问题开始变得熟悉且更容易处理，最终，我开始将课程中培养的技能应用于创建真实数据集，追踪旧金山湾区的船只排放。

这项工作比我学术生涯中任何数学或科学课程都更具挑战性，因此这项工作也更加令人满足。尽管这些挑战令人沮丧，但我仍被激励去迎接它们，因为它们让我树立了将挑战视为成长机会的信心。

JHU点评

在这篇散文中，她深入探讨了她在艺术界的发展历程以及随之而来的挑战。她强调了自己在幼年时期从绘画中获得的快乐，以及这种关系随着她的成长而如何演变。

她向我们展示了如何通过接纳不完美和保持耐心，从而更好地投入自己的艺术创作。她将这些经验应用于不同环境中的新挑战。

她能够将障碍视为成长机遇的能力，将在约翰霍普金斯大学为她带来巨大优势——在那里，她将与新同学和新机遇为伴，并以更加动态的方式继续学习。

02约翰霍普金斯大学新生范文

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 curiosity 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.

中文翻译

偶尔，一块作为包装材料的木板会让我想到：“这块木板可以作为微缩景观的底板。”然后，某个建筑、街道或我经常光顾的房间会给我带来灵感，那里充满了有趣的细节，却不会让人感到压迫。将场景中的细节缩小化的挑战让我感到兴奋，想象场景被微缩化后的样子也令人愉悦。

2020年夏天，手握一块包装用的中密度纤维板（MDF），那个地方恰好就是我自己的家。尽管制作一栋刚搬入的房屋的缩小模型显得有些轻率和多余，但我还是坐下来，用颜料、木板和接下来的三个月里前所未有的充裕时间，投入到这个让我真正感到有动力完成的项目中。在没有其他事情可做的情况下，我测量、构造并组装了这座房子——一块一块，一层一层。当我完成时，我仍然不知道我的创作有什么用处，朋友和家人都对为什么我如此努力地完成它感到困惑。“这看起来很棒，但你是为学校项目做的嗎？”他们会问。

尽管这看起来微不足道，但我继续制作更多微缩模型——我们的餐厅、我的街道、我的自行车，甚至我的垃圾桶。每个项目都有其独特的挑战。我想要在小小的纸板自行车上制作能正常运转的齿轮，但该如何实现呢？我犯过令人沮丧的错误，但最终找到了解决办法，用钩针编织自行车链条，产生足够的摩擦力来驱动纸板齿轮。随着每个项目的完成，我不得不学习如何使用新的材料或胶水——有时，部件会脱落，或油漆会剥落。正是这些问题让项目变得有趣；解决这些微型问题带来简单的快乐，而我特别自豪于通过制作尽可能坚固耐用的部件来颠覆人们对脆弱性的预期。尽管有时会想放弃那些耗时数月的项目，但我对制作模型的不可思议的迷恋持续着，即使我比2020年时忙碌得多。

当我思考为何微缩制作已成为我日常生活中不可或缺的一部分时，我开始意识到从中获得了多少。在缩小每个场景时，意外地需要大量计算和解决问题。在处理错位的结构墙或比例失调的元素时，需要权衡解决方案并决定何时重新开始。即使是最小的项目，如微型垃圾桶，也是出于好奇心和重现踏板机制的渴望而制作的。微缩模型制作让我更加注重细节，我试图寻找让主体更具吸引力的细节：在尝试重现新家时，我对它有了更深入的了解。当我走在繁忙的街道上时，我不禁注意到那道铁丝网与松散的编织物惊人地相似，或者一根掉落的树枝会成为完美的迷你树。奇怪的是，在这些创意场所寻找解决方案的经历，在我进行计算生物学实习的研究和编程工作时会重新浮现，我观察模式并将问题分解为微小的任务。

最重要的是，在绘制每一块砖块和雕刻米粒大小的雕像时，我意识到自己凭借决心能够完成什么。我开始的每个项目都没有可预见的截止日期，而当事情似乎无法顺利进行时，复杂的细节同样令人痛苦。当我将微型作品赠送给家人或朋友时，其中蕴含的耐心与韧性正是我关心程度的体现。

我的微缩场景或许如今正积满灰尘，但每个看似微不足道的项目，都是数小时辛勤工作的结晶——这是对耐心、努力以及它在我成长过程中所助我实现的一切的见证。

JHU点评

她通过她的论文分享了制作微缩模型的经历。她制作了自己搬入的新居的微缩模型，并开始以更细致入微的视角观察世界。

我们看到这种热情如何影响她生活的方方面面。安贾利反思了制作微缩场景带来的喜悦与耐心。这种自我反思让招生委员会看到了她解决问题时展现的战略思维，以及面对挑战时的韧性。

我们强烈感受到她将在我们的霍姆伍德校区如鱼得水，因为我们的学生正是通过多元视角的融合来创造解决方案。

03约翰霍普金斯大学新生范文

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 that connect 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.

中文翻译

无数张便签贴满了我们的卧室门，每张便签上都写着一个意味深长的韩文单词。打开门时，我大声念出这些单词。

Hal-in：折扣。

我妈妈曾开玩笑说：“南希，有时候我觉得你是大人，而我是孩子。”

没错，我曾是个过着双重生活的孩子，既是妈妈不懈的财务顾问，又在周六清晨带着她逛H Mart，寻找折扣并计算购物车里商品的成本。$9.99买五个芒果，$5.50买草莓？通货膨胀的典型表现。还是买打折的苹果吧。巧克力Pepero——不行。在收银台展示我精心收集的优惠券堆时，我迫不及待地看着价格随着每一次刷卡而下降。

Jeonlyag：策略。

回想起来，我妈妈的话揭示了一个不可否认的事实。作为低收入家庭长大的孩子，我明白财务状况会很紧张。当时失业的妈妈拼命找工作，并努力支付我们两居室公寓的租金。为了减轻妈妈作为家庭唯一经济支柱的突然负担，我感到有必要以Jeonlyag的态度对待每一笔开支，确保每一美元都发挥最大价值。

Eon-eo：语言。

当我们用计算器计算房租和其他各种开支的咔嗒声充斥着我们的日子时，我意识到，我们几乎将生活的方方面面都量化了，以追求最佳价值和实用性。当我试图与母亲重新连接生活中那些无法量化的部分时，我的嘴巴变得干燥，找不到合适的韩语词汇和短语来表达自己。尽管我是在双语家庭中长大的，但随着家庭财务状况恶化，我不得不转型为母亲的财务顾问和翻译，我的韩语语言能力也随之退化。我渴望弥合这段韩语沟通的鸿沟，深入了解她的成长经历和我的文化根源。

从基础开始，我聆听了一些远超我年龄的歌曲，波罗罗（Pororo）那朗朗上口的歌词将韩文字母深深植入我的脑海。我母亲的笔迹成为我的模板，我颤抖着将韩语单词写在便签上，贴满卧室的门。我几乎记录下日常生活中遇到的每一个陌生词汇或短语，无论是母亲播放列表中循环的80年代抒情歌曲，还是韩语新闻广播中的内容。随着时间推移，复杂的词汇和短语，夹杂着传统与现代俚语，逐渐覆盖了家中墙壁。

Daehwa：交流。

随着我的收藏逐渐占据整个公寓，我和妈妈的对话也愈发深入。当我们在H Mart的过道间漫步时，我请妈妈分享她在首尔成长时的童年故事。她讲述着逛街边小吃摊的经历，指着她最喜欢的慰藉零食，怀旧的记忆取代了每张便签的价值。我发现自己匆匆穿梭于货架之间，迫不及待地想通过京湖葡萄、干鱿鱼和80年代漫画广告（标注着韩元和美元）一窥她的世界——这正是我双文化身份的集中体现。超市货架背后，是那些无法用数字衡量的经历、瞬间与人际关系。

Tamgu：探索。

数百张韩国便签纸承载着记忆，生动地提醒我，生命太短暂，不能通过价格标签的视角看待世界。学习韩语的旅程为我们的超市之旅增添了另一层维度，让我重新认识了一个世界，在这个世界里，温暖与爱的故事无法用美元和美分来衡量。当我推着购物车穿过H Mart的过道时，我发现了那些连接不同背景的人们的无价经历，尽管他们相隔千山万水。如今，我继续在人生的过道中前行，决心超越作为财务顾问的角色，尽管这仍然是我的一部分，因为我继续进行自己的自我探索。