被忽视的留学文书,留学文书写什么

你可以让朋友来看你写的文书，如果他们看不出那是你，那你还需要重新修改。最后，文书还必须诚实，以真实的情感打动人。首先你的简历、成绩不能虚构。其次，你对事物的看法应尽量真实，这样更能凸显你个性的一面。精神永远是大于语言本身的，如果你只有华丽的外表而无真才实干，那也仅仅是一个空盒子而已。优秀文书案例最后，我们当然要来欣赏一下这位被13所美国顶级名校同时录取的萧靖彤同学的文书啦：In our house, English is not English. Not in the phonetic sense, like short a is for apple, but rather inthe pronunciation – in our house, snake is snack. Words do not roll off ourtongues correctly – yet I, who was pulled out of class to meet with languagespecialists, and my mother from Malaysia, who pronounces film as flim,understand each other perfectly.Inour house, there is no difference between cast and cash, which was why at achurch retreat, people made fun of me for “cashing out demons.” I did notrealize the glaring difference between the two Englishes until my teachercorrected my pronunciations of hammock, ladle, and siphon. Classmates laughedbecause I pronounce accept as except, success as sussess. I was in the CreativeWriting conservatory, and yet words failed me when I needed them most.Suddenly,understanding flower is flour wasn’t enough. I rejected the English that hadnever seemed broken before, a language that had raised me and taught meeverything I knew. Everybody else’s parents spoke with accents smarting ofPh.D.s and university teaching positions. So why couldn’t mine?Mymother spread her sunbaked hands and said, “This is where I came from,”spinning a tale with the English she had taught herself.Whenmy mother moved from her village to a town in Malaysia, she had to learn abrand new language in middle school: English. In a time when humiliation wasencouraged, my mother was defenseless against the cruel words spewing from theteacher, who criticized her paper in front of the class. When she began to cry,the class president stood up and said, “That’s enough.”“Belike that class president,” my mother said with tears in her eyes. The classpresident took her under her wing and patiently mended my mother’s strands oflanguage. “She stood up for the weak and used her words to fight back.”Wewere both crying now. My mother asked me to teach her proper English so oldwhite ladies at Target wouldn’t laugh at her pronunciation. It has not beeneasy. There is a measure of guilt when I sew her letters together. Long vowels,double consonants — I am still learning myself. Sometimes I let the brokennessslide to spare her pride but perhaps I have hurt her more to spare mine.Asmy mother’s vocabulary began to grow, I mended my own English. Throughperforming poetry in front of 3000 at my school’s Season Finale event,interviewing people from all walks of life, and writing stories for the stage,I stand against ignorance and become a voice for the homeless, the refugees,the ignored. With my words I fight against jeers pelted at an old Asian streetperformer on a New York subway. My mother’s eyes are reflected inunderprivileged ESL children who have so many stories to tell but do not knowhow. I fill them with words as they take needle and thread to make a tapestry.Inour house, there is beauty in the way we speak to each other. In our house,language is not broken but rather bursting with emotion. We have built a houseout of words. There are friendly snakes in the cupboard and snacks in the tank.It is a crooked house. It is a little messy. But this is where we have made ourhome.文书的书写，你学会了吗？。