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Just as the glossy brochure promised， from the moment I touched foot on the Harvard campus last fall， I was exposed to an exhilarating and illuminating new world.
I have discussed the rise of China with 1）Larry Summers over a few slices of pizza， taken a genetics course taught by one of 2）People magazine’s sexiest men alive （shoutout to 3）Kevin Eggan）， and sat in the front row as one of my favorite writers， 4）Atul Gawande， gave an astonishing talk on the difference between coaching and teaching. Still， my freshman year was probably one of the most troubling of my life.
I was born and raised 1，500 miles away， in a small apartment in 5）Jackson， Mississippi. For my entire life， it has mainly been just my mother and me. I have a loving father， but he and my mother broke off their engagement shortly after my birth， and since he worked odd hours as a bus driver， I rarely saw him when I was growing up. I am an only child， so my mother overpowered me with her love. For someone who sees so much beauty in the world， she worked awfully hard to protect me from it. Television， rap music， even basketball with the kids on the block were beyond consideration. It left me a bit resentful as a teenager， but I grew to appreciate her enormous sacrifices—walking me to the library every afternoon， laboring at multiple jobs to keep food on the table， telling me stories late into the night.
When I announced the summer before my senior year of high school that I had decided to apply to a school in New England， I noticed a hint of hesitation before a warm smile enveloped her face. I pretended not to see， but I was never able to forget it. I tried to articulate my reasons for wanting to leave—to prove I was smart enough， fear of taking the path of least resistance， the classic teenage feeling of being trapped—but the words just made me sound shallow and ungrateful.
Nonetheless， I began to 6）buckle down on the college applications—an early one for Harvard and roughly a dozen others standing by. I knew the 7）odds of getting into Harvard were not in my favor， and my high school couldn’t offer much because our senior counselor was responsible for hundreds of students. So I read tons of college preparation books. If there was one lesson I learned from them， it was that nothing kills a winning application faster than a 8）trite “Allow me to tell you about the time I won the town race” essay. I wrote about the growing tension I noticed between the sciences and the humanities. And months in advance， I approached my incredible yet overworked teachers with a smile and recommendation requests， already placed in stamped envelopes. To my delight， I was notified of my acceptance into Harvard College on Dec. 15， 2011， three days before my birthday. That night， after all of the celebratory texts and hugs， I sat in my room and began to cry uncontrollably.
I felt trapped between the two worlds in front of me. One held seemingly unlimited opportunity—full scholarship， career advancement， travel possibilities. But what would I sacrifice in exchange？ My mother and I have never been on firm financial ground， and that was not going to magically change. It suddenly hit me why I was so troubled by her hesitant look： it was the same look she gave me the first time we were 9）evicted from our home. What would happen to her if I left？ When she was laid off from her job a few weeks later， my fears multiplied.
“Your acceptance into Harvard is one of the shining accomplishments of my life，” she said， “and I’ll be damned if I see you give it away.”
I did not.
Earlier this year， I read an article about the failure of elite colleges to attract poor students： a Stanford study had found that only 34 percent of top students in the lowest income level had attended one of the country’s 238 most selective colleges. I do not believe that increasing financial aid packages and creating glossy brochures alone will reverse this trend. The true forces that are keeping us away from elite colleges are cultural： the fear of entering an alien environment， the guilt of leaving loved ones alone to deal with increasing economic pressure， the impulse to work to support oneself and one’s family. I began to think， “Who am I， anyway， to think I belong at Harvard， the 10）alma mater of the Bushes， the Kennedys and the Romneys？ Maybe I should have stayed in Mississippi where I belonged.”
Then there were the existential questions： why it all matters， the 11）recurring evaluations of my dreams and underlying motivations， even considerations of the problematic socioeconomic structure I was trapped in.
Over the course of this year， I have changed in ways I never anticipated. As I watch my peers—an 12）eclectic collection of literary enthusiasts， science geniuses， musical 13）virtuosos and mathematics 14）prodigies—humbly strive for excellence in their respective fields， I feel inspired， slightly inadequate and hopeful for the future.
I think I know now why my mother let me go. Harvard has forced me to grow and take a candid look at the world， and at myself.
正如那本精美的宣传册上所允诺的，从我去年秋天踏入哈佛校园的那一刻起，我便接触到了一个令人兴奋及富有启发性的新世界。 我曾一边嚼着几片披萨饼，一边与拉里·萨默斯谈论中国的崛起；我曾修过一门遗传学课程，授课人曾入选《人物》杂志的“在世最性感男士”（为凯文·埃根而尖叫）；我曾坐在第一排，听我最喜爱的作家之一——阿图尔·加文德的讲座，内容是关于训练与教导的差异。不过，大学一年级的时光也许是我人生中最闹心的一段。
我在位于1500英里外，密西西比州杰克逊市的一套小公寓里出生、长大。一生中也就只是母亲和我相依生活。我有一位慈爱的父亲，但是在我出生后不久，他便与我母亲解除了婚约，加上他是一位公交车司机，工作时间极不规律，所以在我成长的过程中，我很少见到他。我是个独生子，所以母亲倾其心力宠溺着我。她见识过这世界上众多美好的事物，却总是费尽全力不让我接触那些东西。像电视、说唱音乐，甚至连和其他孩子在街区里打打篮球都是压根儿不用想的。在我十几岁的时候，也曾有过一丝忿恨，但我慢慢地懂得了母亲的巨大牺牲——每天下午陪我去图书馆，身兼多职维持生计，还给我讲故事哄我入睡直至夜深。
在我升入高三的那个夏天，我告诉母亲我决定申请去新英格兰的一所学校念书，我察觉到母亲脸上那一丝犹豫，尽管那很快就被温暖的笑容所掩盖。虽然我假装没有看到，但我却永远都忘不了。我试着向母亲道明我想要离开的原因——我想证明自己已经足够聪明，也不想走毫无挑战的直路，典型的热血少年不当池中物的心态——但所有的言语都令我显得肤浅无比，忘恩负义。
尽管如此，我还是倾尽全力地开始了大学申请——早早向哈佛发出申请，加上十几所其他学校作后备。我知道进入哈佛的胜算并不是我能决定的，而且我的高中帮不了太多的忙，因为我们的高级辅导员管着数以百计的学生。所以我读了无数本关于大学申请的书。如果说我从这些书中学到了什么，那就是没有什么比那些老套沉闷的自荐文更快被淘汰的了，如“请允许我跟你说一说我赢得小镇竞赛的那段儿吧”之类的。而我写的文章则是关于我所注意到的科学与人文学科之间争持态势日增的现象。提前几个月，我就找到我那些厉害有加而日理万机的老师们，笑着让他们给我写推荐信，并奉上已贴好邮票的信封。
让我高兴的是，2011年12月15日，我被告知哈佛大学录取了我，那是我生日的前三天。那个晚上，在接收完所有的祝贺短讯和拥抱之后，我坐在自己的房间里，不由自主地哭了起来。
我感觉到自己受困于面前的两个世界里。一边是貌似无可限量的机会——全额奖学金、职场晋升、出游机会。但我以什么作为牺牲与之交换呢？母亲与我一直没有稳固的经济基础，以后也不会有什么奇迹般的转变。我突然明白自己为什么会因为母亲犹豫的表情而感到困扰了：那表情与我们第一次被人赶出租住的家时，她看我的表情一模一样。如果我走了，母亲怎么办？母亲被解雇后的几周里，我的担心与日俱增。
“你被哈佛录取是我这辈子最光荣的事，”母亲说，“如果我看到你放弃哈佛，我才该死。”
我没有放弃。
今年的早些时候，我读了篇关于名校无法吸引贫困学生的文章：斯坦福大学的一个调查发现，在来自于最低收入家庭的顶尖学生中，仅有34%进入了全国的238所重点院校。我不相信仅仅增加助学金、制作精美的宣传册就能转变这个趋势。迫使我们远离名校的真实原因是文化上的：进入一个全新环境的恐惧，离开至亲至爱让其独自应对渐增经济压力的负罪感，希望自己早日工作养家糊口的冲动。我开始思考：“我是谁，竟然认为自己属于哈佛——这所布什家族、肯尼迪家族和罗姆尼家族的母校？或许我本该待在密西西比州，那里才属于我。”
然后还有那些有关生存选择的问题：这事为什么那么重要，我反复考量自己的梦想与潜在动机，甚至开始思考我一直受困其中的问题重重的社会经济结构。
这一年的课程下来，我以自己从未预料到的方式改变了。当我看着自己的同伴们——一群不拘一格的文学爱好者、科学天才、音乐达人、数学奇才——在他们各自的领域里谦恭地追求着卓越，我备受鼓舞，也感到了略微的不足，并对未来充满了希望。
我想我现在明白，为何母亲让我来到哈佛。哈佛迫使我成长，让我坦诚地看待这个世界，看待自己。
I have discussed the rise of China with 1）Larry Summers over a few slices of pizza， taken a genetics course taught by one of 2）People magazine’s sexiest men alive （shoutout to 3）Kevin Eggan）， and sat in the front row as one of my favorite writers， 4）Atul Gawande， gave an astonishing talk on the difference between coaching and teaching. Still， my freshman year was probably one of the most troubling of my life.
I was born and raised 1，500 miles away， in a small apartment in 5）Jackson， Mississippi. For my entire life， it has mainly been just my mother and me. I have a loving father， but he and my mother broke off their engagement shortly after my birth， and since he worked odd hours as a bus driver， I rarely saw him when I was growing up. I am an only child， so my mother overpowered me with her love. For someone who sees so much beauty in the world， she worked awfully hard to protect me from it. Television， rap music， even basketball with the kids on the block were beyond consideration. It left me a bit resentful as a teenager， but I grew to appreciate her enormous sacrifices—walking me to the library every afternoon， laboring at multiple jobs to keep food on the table， telling me stories late into the night.
When I announced the summer before my senior year of high school that I had decided to apply to a school in New England， I noticed a hint of hesitation before a warm smile enveloped her face. I pretended not to see， but I was never able to forget it. I tried to articulate my reasons for wanting to leave—to prove I was smart enough， fear of taking the path of least resistance， the classic teenage feeling of being trapped—but the words just made me sound shallow and ungrateful.
Nonetheless， I began to 6）buckle down on the college applications—an early one for Harvard and roughly a dozen others standing by. I knew the 7）odds of getting into Harvard were not in my favor， and my high school couldn’t offer much because our senior counselor was responsible for hundreds of students. So I read tons of college preparation books. If there was one lesson I learned from them， it was that nothing kills a winning application faster than a 8）trite “Allow me to tell you about the time I won the town race” essay. I wrote about the growing tension I noticed between the sciences and the humanities. And months in advance， I approached my incredible yet overworked teachers with a smile and recommendation requests， already placed in stamped envelopes. To my delight， I was notified of my acceptance into Harvard College on Dec. 15， 2011， three days before my birthday. That night， after all of the celebratory texts and hugs， I sat in my room and began to cry uncontrollably.
I felt trapped between the two worlds in front of me. One held seemingly unlimited opportunity—full scholarship， career advancement， travel possibilities. But what would I sacrifice in exchange？ My mother and I have never been on firm financial ground， and that was not going to magically change. It suddenly hit me why I was so troubled by her hesitant look： it was the same look she gave me the first time we were 9）evicted from our home. What would happen to her if I left？ When she was laid off from her job a few weeks later， my fears multiplied.
“Your acceptance into Harvard is one of the shining accomplishments of my life，” she said， “and I’ll be damned if I see you give it away.”
I did not.
Earlier this year， I read an article about the failure of elite colleges to attract poor students： a Stanford study had found that only 34 percent of top students in the lowest income level had attended one of the country’s 238 most selective colleges. I do not believe that increasing financial aid packages and creating glossy brochures alone will reverse this trend. The true forces that are keeping us away from elite colleges are cultural： the fear of entering an alien environment， the guilt of leaving loved ones alone to deal with increasing economic pressure， the impulse to work to support oneself and one’s family. I began to think， “Who am I， anyway， to think I belong at Harvard， the 10）alma mater of the Bushes， the Kennedys and the Romneys？ Maybe I should have stayed in Mississippi where I belonged.”
Then there were the existential questions： why it all matters， the 11）recurring evaluations of my dreams and underlying motivations， even considerations of the problematic socioeconomic structure I was trapped in.
Over the course of this year， I have changed in ways I never anticipated. As I watch my peers—an 12）eclectic collection of literary enthusiasts， science geniuses， musical 13）virtuosos and mathematics 14）prodigies—humbly strive for excellence in their respective fields， I feel inspired， slightly inadequate and hopeful for the future.
I think I know now why my mother let me go. Harvard has forced me to grow and take a candid look at the world， and at myself.
正如那本精美的宣传册上所允诺的，从我去年秋天踏入哈佛校园的那一刻起，我便接触到了一个令人兴奋及富有启发性的新世界。 我曾一边嚼着几片披萨饼，一边与拉里·萨默斯谈论中国的崛起；我曾修过一门遗传学课程，授课人曾入选《人物》杂志的“在世最性感男士”（为凯文·埃根而尖叫）；我曾坐在第一排，听我最喜爱的作家之一——阿图尔·加文德的讲座，内容是关于训练与教导的差异。不过，大学一年级的时光也许是我人生中最闹心的一段。
我在位于1500英里外，密西西比州杰克逊市的一套小公寓里出生、长大。一生中也就只是母亲和我相依生活。我有一位慈爱的父亲，但是在我出生后不久，他便与我母亲解除了婚约，加上他是一位公交车司机，工作时间极不规律，所以在我成长的过程中，我很少见到他。我是个独生子，所以母亲倾其心力宠溺着我。她见识过这世界上众多美好的事物，却总是费尽全力不让我接触那些东西。像电视、说唱音乐，甚至连和其他孩子在街区里打打篮球都是压根儿不用想的。在我十几岁的时候，也曾有过一丝忿恨，但我慢慢地懂得了母亲的巨大牺牲——每天下午陪我去图书馆，身兼多职维持生计，还给我讲故事哄我入睡直至夜深。
在我升入高三的那个夏天，我告诉母亲我决定申请去新英格兰的一所学校念书，我察觉到母亲脸上那一丝犹豫，尽管那很快就被温暖的笑容所掩盖。虽然我假装没有看到，但我却永远都忘不了。我试着向母亲道明我想要离开的原因——我想证明自己已经足够聪明，也不想走毫无挑战的直路，典型的热血少年不当池中物的心态——但所有的言语都令我显得肤浅无比，忘恩负义。
尽管如此，我还是倾尽全力地开始了大学申请——早早向哈佛发出申请，加上十几所其他学校作后备。我知道进入哈佛的胜算并不是我能决定的，而且我的高中帮不了太多的忙，因为我们的高级辅导员管着数以百计的学生。所以我读了无数本关于大学申请的书。如果说我从这些书中学到了什么，那就是没有什么比那些老套沉闷的自荐文更快被淘汰的了，如“请允许我跟你说一说我赢得小镇竞赛的那段儿吧”之类的。而我写的文章则是关于我所注意到的科学与人文学科之间争持态势日增的现象。提前几个月，我就找到我那些厉害有加而日理万机的老师们，笑着让他们给我写推荐信，并奉上已贴好邮票的信封。
让我高兴的是，2011年12月15日，我被告知哈佛大学录取了我，那是我生日的前三天。那个晚上，在接收完所有的祝贺短讯和拥抱之后，我坐在自己的房间里，不由自主地哭了起来。
我感觉到自己受困于面前的两个世界里。一边是貌似无可限量的机会——全额奖学金、职场晋升、出游机会。但我以什么作为牺牲与之交换呢？母亲与我一直没有稳固的经济基础，以后也不会有什么奇迹般的转变。我突然明白自己为什么会因为母亲犹豫的表情而感到困扰了：那表情与我们第一次被人赶出租住的家时，她看我的表情一模一样。如果我走了，母亲怎么办？母亲被解雇后的几周里，我的担心与日俱增。
“你被哈佛录取是我这辈子最光荣的事，”母亲说，“如果我看到你放弃哈佛，我才该死。”
我没有放弃。
今年的早些时候，我读了篇关于名校无法吸引贫困学生的文章：斯坦福大学的一个调查发现，在来自于最低收入家庭的顶尖学生中，仅有34%进入了全国的238所重点院校。我不相信仅仅增加助学金、制作精美的宣传册就能转变这个趋势。迫使我们远离名校的真实原因是文化上的：进入一个全新环境的恐惧，离开至亲至爱让其独自应对渐增经济压力的负罪感，希望自己早日工作养家糊口的冲动。我开始思考：“我是谁，竟然认为自己属于哈佛——这所布什家族、肯尼迪家族和罗姆尼家族的母校？或许我本该待在密西西比州，那里才属于我。”
然后还有那些有关生存选择的问题：这事为什么那么重要，我反复考量自己的梦想与潜在动机，甚至开始思考我一直受困其中的问题重重的社会经济结构。
这一年的课程下来，我以自己从未预料到的方式改变了。当我看着自己的同伴们——一群不拘一格的文学爱好者、科学天才、音乐达人、数学奇才——在他们各自的领域里谦恭地追求着卓越，我备受鼓舞，也感到了略微的不足，并对未来充满了希望。
我想我现在明白，为何母亲让我来到哈佛。哈佛迫使我成长，让我坦诚地看待这个世界，看待自己。