想要申请美国的大学，Essay占据了很大的比重，一份好的Essay可以让你的整个申请过程畅通无阻，而一份差的Essay可以直接将你的其他优势给拉低下来，那被美国名校认可的优秀Essay是怎么样的呢?美国著名的杂志《纽约时报》给出5篇范本。

《The New York  Times》每年都向高中生征集大学申请文书，今年将近300人回复，这里挑选出5篇优秀essay，有的关于家庭，有的启发梦想，有的思索阶级…

从下面这些优秀的Essay中，我们都能感受到他们身上所体现的情感领悟、洞察能力、怪才脑洞，这就是被美国大学真正认可的优秀Essay，也难怪会脱颖而出被顶尖大学录取。

优秀范文Essay一：德克萨斯州 Eric Muthondu

今年秋季入读哈佛

These are the two worlds I have inherited, and my existence in one is not  possible without the other.

My grandmother hovers over the stove flame, fanning it as she melodically  hums Kikuyu spirituals. She kneads the dough and places it on the stove, her  veins throbbing with every movement: a living masterpiece painted by a life of  poverty and motherhood. The air becomes thick with smoke and I am soon forced  out of the walls of the mud-brick house while she laughs.

As for me, I wander down to the small stream at the ridge on the farm’s edge,  remembering my father’s stories of rising up early to feed the cows and my  mother’s memories of the sweat on her brow from hours of picking coffee at a  local plantation.

Life here juxtaposes itself profoundly against the life I live in America;  the scourge of poverty and flickering prosperity that never seem to coalesce.  But these are the two worlds I have inherited, and my existence in one is not  possible without the other. At the stream, I recollect my other life beyond this  place. In America, I watch my father come home every night, beaten yet resilient  from another day of hard work on the road. He sits me and my sister down, and  though weary-eyed, he manages the soft smile I know him for and asks about our  day.

My sister is quick to oblige, speaking wildly of learning and mischief. In  that moment, I realize that she is too young to remember our original home: the  old dust of barren apartment walls and the constant roar outside of life in the  nighttime.

Soon after, I find myself lying in bed, my thoughts and the soft throb of my  head the only audible things in the room. I ponder whether my parents — dregs  floating across a diasporic sea before my time — would have imagined their  sacrifices for us would come with sharp pains in their backs and newfound  worries, tear-soaked nights and early mornings. But, it is too much to process.  Instead, I dream of them and the future I will build with the tools they have  given me.

Realizing I have mused far too long by the water’s edge, I begin to make my  way back to the house. The climb up the ridge is taxing, so I carefully grip the  soil beneath me, feeling its warmth surge between my fingers. Finally, I see my  younger cousins running around barefoot endlessly and I decide to join their  game of soccer, but they all laugh at the awkwardness of the ball between my  feet. They play, scream and chant, fully unaware of the world beyond this  village or even Nairobi, but I cannot blame them. My iPhone fascinates them and  they ask to see my braces, intently questioning how many “shillings” they cost.  I open my mouth to satisfy their curiosity, but my grandmother calls out, and we  all rush to see what she has made.

When I return, the chapatis are neatly stacked on one another, golden-brown  disks of sweet bread that are the completion of every Kenyan meal. Before my  grandmother can ridicule me in a torrent of Kikuyu, I grab a chapati and escape  to find a patch of silky grass, where I take my first bite. Each mouthful is a  reminder that my time here will not last forever, and that my success or failure  will become a defining example for my sister and relatives.

The rift between high school and college is wide, but it is one I must cross  for those who have carried me to this point. The same hope that carried my  parents over an ocean of uncertainty is now my fuel for the journey toward my  future, and I go forward with the radical idea that I, too, can make it.  Savoring each bite, I listen to the sound of neighbors calling out and children  chasing a dog ridden with fleas, letting the cool heat cling to my skin.

优秀范文Essay二：Alison Hess

入读芝加哥大学

While I then associated my conquests with ‘being a better boy,’ I now realize  what I was really working toward was becoming a better farmer.

I always assumed my father wished I had been born a boy.

Now, please don’t assume that my father is some rampant rural sexist. The  fact is, when you live in an area and have a career where success is largely  determined by your ability to provide and maintain nearly insurmountable feats  of physical labor, you typically prefer a person with a bigger frame.

When I was younger, I liked green tractors better than red tractors because  that was what my father drove, and I preferred black and white cows over brown  ones because those were the kind he raised. I wore coveralls in the winter and  wore holes in my mud boots in weeks. With my still fragile masculinity, I  crossed my arms over my chest when I talked to new people, and I filled my toy  box exclusively with miniature farm implements. In third grade, I cut my hair  very short, and my father smiled and rubbed my head.

I never strove to roll smoother pie crusts or iron exquisitely stiff collars.  Instead, I idolized my father’s patient hands. On a cow’s neck, trying to find  the right vein to stick a needle in. In the strength of the grip it took to hold  down an injured heifer. In the finesse with which they habitually spun the  steering wheel as he backed up to the livestock trailer.

And I grew to do those things myself. When on my 10th birthday I received my  first show cow, a rite of passage in the Hess family, I named her Missy. As I  spoke to her in an unnaturally low voice, I failed to realize one thing: Missy  did not care that I was a girl. She did not think I was acting especially boyish  or notice when I adamantly refused to wear pink clothing (she was colorblind  anyway). And she did not blink an eyelash at her new caretaker’s slightly  smaller frame. All she cared about was her balanced daily feed of cottonseed and  ground corn and that she got an extra pat on the head. As I sat next to her  polishing her white leather show halter, she appreciated my meticulous diligence  and not my sex.

When Missy and I won Best of Show a few months later, my father’s heart  nearly exploded. I learned to stick my chest out whenever I felt proud. While I  then associated my conquests with “being a better boy,” I now realize what I was  really working toward was becoming a better farmer. I learned I could do  everything my father could do, and in some tasks, such as the taxing chore of  feeding newborn calves or the herculean task of halter-breaking a heifer, I  surpassed him. It has taken me four years to realize this: I proved a better  farmer than he in those moments, not despite my sex, but despite my invalid and  ignorant assumption that the best farmer was the one with the most  testosterone.

My freshman year, I left the farm for boarding school, where I was surrounded  by the better-off and the better-educated — the vast majority of whom had heard  the word ‘feminism’ before. I began to pick up just what the word meant from my  antagonizing English teacher and my incisive friends’ furrowed brows when I  described my hometown. Four years of education and weekly argumentative essays  taught me the academic jargon. I learned the Latin roots of the word “feminism,”  its cognates and its historical consequences.

But the more I read about it in books, and the more I used it in my essays,  the more I realized I already knew what it meant. I had already embodied the  reality of feminism on the farm. I had lived it. My cow had taught it to me.

优秀范文Essay三：纽约州Jeffrey Yu

将入读耶鲁大学

My family is a matriarchy in a patriarchal community.

Not all sons of doctors raise baby ducks and chickens in their kitchen. But I  do. My dad taught me.

While my childhood was spent in a deteriorating industrial town, my dad was  raised during the onset of Mao Zedong’s Cultural Revolution. After forgoing  university so his sister could attend, my dad worked on a commune as a farmer.  So while I grew up immersed in airy Beethoven melodies each morning, my dad grew  up amid the earthy aromas of hay and livestock. Every time that I look between  our grand piano and our baby chickens, I’m amazed by the stark differences  between our childhoods, and how in raising livestock, my dad shares a piece of  his own rural upbringing with me.

Embracing these differences, my dad has introduced me to diverse experiences,  from molding statues out of toilet paper plaster to building greenhouses from  the ground up. So you might be wondering: What does he do for a traditional  9-to-5 job? He’s already captained a research vessel that’s navigated across the  Pacific, designed three patentable wind turbines and held every position  imaginable, from sous chef to Motorola technician.

The answer? Nothing. He’s actually a stay-at-home dad right now.

My family is a matriarchy in a patriarchal community. Accordingly, I’m  greeted with astonishment whenever I try to explain my dad’s financial status.  “How lazy and unmotivated he must be!” Many try to hide their surprise, but  their furtive glances say it all. In a society that places economic value at the  forefront of worth, these assumptions might apply to other individuals, but not  to my dad.

When I look at the media, whether it be the front cover of a newspaper or a  featured story in a website article, I often see highlights of parents who work  incredible hours and odd jobs to ensure their children receive a good  upbringing. While those stories are certainly worthy of praise, they often  overshadow the less visible, equally important actions of people like my  dad.

I realize now that my dad has sacrificed his promising career and financial  pride to ensure that his son would get all of the proper attention, care and  moral upbringing he needed. Through his quiet, selfless actions, my dad has  given me more than can be bought from a paycheck and redefined my understanding  of how we, as people, can choose to live our lives.

I'm proud to say that my dad is the richest man I know — rich not in capital,  but in character. Infused with the ingenuity to tear down complex physics and  calculus problems, electrified with the vigor of a young entrepreneur (despite  beginning his fledgling windmill start-up at the age of 50) and imbued with the  kindness to shuttle his son to practices and rehearsals. At the end of the day,  it’s those traits in people that matter more to me than who they are on  paper.

Stories like my dad’s remind me that worth can come in forms other than a  six-figure salary. He’s an inspiration, reminding me that optimism, passion and  creativity can make a difference in a life as young as mine. It’s those unspoken  virtues that define me. Whether it’s when I fold napkin lotuses for my soup  kitchen’s Christmas dinner, or bake challah bread French toast sticks for my  chemistry class, I’m aware that achievement doesn’t have to be measured  empirically. It’s that entrepreneurial, self-driven determination to bring ideas  to life that drives me. My dad lives life off the beaten path. I, too, hope to  bring that unorthodox attitude to other people and communities.

All too often I’m left with the seemingly unanswerable question: “What does  my dad do?” But the answer, all too simply, is that he does what he does best:  Inspire his son.

优秀范文Essay四：Caroline Beit

gap year后今年入读耶鲁大学

While I have not changed the tax system (though someday I plan to), I have  changed how my clients interact with it.

“Nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.”

Not only do Benjamin Franklin’s words still resonate today, but, if you are  like most, filing income taxes is simply unpleasant. For me, however, preparing  taxes has been a telescopic lens with which to observe the disparate economic  realities present in our society. In looking through this lens, I have seen  firsthand how low wages and, at times, regressive public policy can adversely  impact the financially fragile, and how I can make a difference.

This coming year will be my third volunteering every Saturday during tax  season with AARP’s Tax-Aide Program. In the basement of the Morningside Heights  Library in Manhattan, we help the elderly and low-income individuals file their  taxes. During my first season, I handled organizational tasks and assisted  intake counselors with the initial interview process.

When I told the AARP manager that I wanted to return the following season and  do actual tax preparation, she was skeptical, especially since the next youngest  tax preparer at my location was 37. That, however, did not deter me: Though I  would be just 16 before the start of the season, I diligently studied the  material and passed the advanced I.R.S. qualification test.

As a volunteer, my goal is to help my clients obtain every credit they are  entitled to and place vitally needed money in their pockets. To do this, I need  much more than just technical knowledge. It is also essential to connect on a  human level. I make it a point to put each person at ease by actively listening  to his or her story.

For example, the young woman, who is a recently minted United States citizen  and barely speaks English, mentions that her disabled grandmother lives with  her. Her story allows me to determine she can claim a dependent care credit for  her grandmother and a $1,000 earned income credit. These credits represent  approximately 20 percent of her income and will go toward buying her  grandmother’s medications and other necessities.

I am saddened at times by the palpable stress of those living on the edge of  economic subsistence. Basic necessities such as sneakers and dental care, which  I had never thought twice about, are out of reach for many. I vividly remember  the single mom from Queens who works at Target and spent $400 (a week’s  paycheck) at H&R Block last year. By not having to pay for tax preparation  this year and the credits she can claim, she confided she will be able to buy  her son, who is my age, new shoes for track and hopefully see a dentist for a  tooth that has been throbbing for months.

As a volunteer, I have learned the importance of empathizing, listening and  communicating complex and technical matters simply. Making my clients feel at  ease allows them to understand my explanation of how their money is being taxed.  I have also gained insight into how tax policy affects the financial and  physical health of the working poor and elderly. While I have not changed the  tax system (though someday I plan to), I have changed how my clients interact  with it.

Beyond Benjamin Franklin’s two certainties in life of death and taxes, I  would add a third: the enduring power of the human spirit. I remember an  octogenarian man with a cane who waited two hours in line on a bone-chillingly  rainy Saturday in February. He is somehow able to survive in Manhattan on  $15,000 of Social Security earnings a year. Even though his income is below the  filing requirement, together we claim $77 of school tax and rent credits, which  translates into two weeks of groceries.

When we finish, he says to me, “See you next year.” It is at that moment I  know I have made a tangible difference.

优秀范文Essay五：德克萨斯州Kataryna Piña

将入读科尔盖特大学

At the age of 11, I started working for the very first time as a cleaning  lady with my grandparents.

The way the light shined on her skin as she sewed the quilt emphasized the  details of every wrinkle, burn and cut. While she completed the overcast stitch,  the thimble on her index finger protected her from the needle pokes. She wore  rings on every finger of her right hand, but on her left she only wore her  wedding ring. The rings drew the attention away from her age and scars to her  cherished possessions.

My grandmother’s rings had not only been stolen by her son, my father, but  she was constantly in the state of fear that he would steal from her once again.  When my father was incarcerated, she wore her rings every day of the week;  however, when he was home, her hands were bare. As it became increasingly common  over time, she learned to hide her treasures in a jewelry box under her bed.

As a small child, I watched my grandmother’s hands move in an inward and  outward motion, noticing her rhythm. This rhythm was like the cha-cha music I  heard every Sunday when I went with her to the pulga, the flea market. Every  week, she bargained on the vendor’s products and brought home “unnecessary  necessities”; luckily, some weeks it just happened to be thread and new sewing  outlines. As my grandma sewed my outfits for school, I was always trying to  complete the outline of La Rosa de Guadalupe just so I could impress her. I  would sing along to her favorite Prince Royce songs, use the same color of  thread as her and try to go at the same cha-cha.

With my father incarcerated, the women in my family went to work. At the age  of 11, I started working for the very first time as a cleaning lady with my  grandparents. Even though I wanted to help my family, I was ashamed to be a  cleaning lady. I argued with my mother against living a life like that, a life  in which I gave up my childhood for my family’s stability. After being called  “malagradecida” — ungrateful — several times, my grandmother reacquainted me  with the idea that “todas las cosas buenas vienen a los que esperan” — all good  things come to those who wait. Sewing was no longer a hobby, but a necessity,  when it came to making my own apron, seaming together rags and pushing for a  better future for my family. My grandmother, too, had to put down her quilt and  go to work, but she never complained.

In recent years, my grandmother has become increasingly ill, so I took her  unfinished quilt to my home, planning to complete it. My grandmother did not  choose to leave this project unfinished; her age and constant contribution to  her family through work did not allow her to. Often, obstacles have not only  redesigned my course, but have changed my perspective and allowed for me to see  greater and better things present within my life. The progression of each patch  depicts the instability present within my family. However, when you put all  these patches together as one, you have a quilt with several seams and  reinforcements keeping it together to depict the obstacles we have faced and  have overcome to show resilience.

Now, when she visits our home, as she reaches for her glasses and pushes her  walker away from the table, my grandmother asks me to bring her the quilt. The  jeweled hands that were once accustomed to constant stitching are now bare, and  the scars are hidden under every wrinkle. With a strong grip on the quilt, my  grandmother signals me to get her sewing basket that sits in the corner  collecting dust. She runs her hands over the patches one last time and finds an  unfinished seam. She smiles and says, “Cerrar la costura y hacer una colcha de  su propio” — close the seam and make a quilt of your own.

无论你是申请哪所美国大学，选择怎样的题目，在essay写作过程中都要明确的一点是，你所写的必须是对你真正重要有意义的事情。就用你自己的方式表达真实的自我，不需要担心你的词藻是否不够华丽还是语法过于简单。

选择那些让你真正有感而发的故事，发自内心地表达出来，通过故事传递的你的观点或视角能让招生官感受到一个鲜活的你，而你所表达的真实也永远是最打动人心的。

最后，一定要注意校对，至少请两位以上的朋友帮你校对essay是否有语法错误或书写错误等问题。

以上就是小编了解到的美国留学申请Essay怎么写的相关消息，如还想了解关于社交软件言辞要慎重！影响留学！，美国留学的利与弊等信息，可以与我们联系。