by Gretchen Ertl

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 magazines 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 couldnt 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 Ill 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 countrys 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 ones 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.

正如那本精美的宣傳冊上所允諾的，從我去年秋天踏入哈佛校園的那一刻起，我便接觸到了一個令人興奮及富有啟發(fā)性的新世界。

我曾一邊嚼著幾片披薩餅，一邊與拉里·薩默斯談?wù)撝袊尼绕穑晃以捱^一門遺傳學(xué)課程，授課人曾入選《人物》雜志的“在世最性感男士”（為凱文·埃根而尖叫）；我曾坐在第一排，聽我最喜愛的作家之一——阿圖爾·加文德的講座，內(nèi)容是關(guān)于訓(xùn)練與教導(dǎo)的差異。不過，大學(xué)一年級的時光也許是我人生中最鬧心的一段。

我在位于1500英里外，密西西比州杰克遜市的一套小公寓里出生、長大。一生中也就只是母親和我相依生活。我有一位慈愛的父親，但是在我出生后不久，他便與我母親解除了婚約，加上他是一位公交車司機，工作時間極不規(guī)律，所以在我成長的過程中，我很少見到他。我是個獨生子，所以母親傾其心力寵溺著我。她見識過這世界上眾多美好的事物，卻總是費盡全力不讓我接觸那些東西。像電視、說唱音樂，甚至連和其他孩子在街區(qū)里打打籃球都是壓根兒不用想的。在我十幾歲的時候，也曾有過一絲忿恨，但我慢慢地懂得了母親的巨大犧牲——每天下午陪我去圖書館，身兼多職維持生計，還給我講故事哄我入睡直至夜深。

在我升入高三的那個夏天，我告訴母親我決定申請去新英格蘭的一所學(xué)校念書，我察覺到母親臉上那一絲猶豫，盡管那很快就被溫暖的笑容所掩蓋。雖然我假裝沒有看到，但我卻永遠都忘不了。我試著向母親道明我想要離開的原因——我想證明自己已經(jīng)足夠聰明，也不想走毫無挑戰(zhàn)的直路，典型的熱血少年不當(dāng)池中物的心態(tài)——但所有的言語都令我顯得膚淺無比，忘恩負義。

盡管如此，我還是傾盡全力地開始了大學(xué)申請——早早向哈佛發(fā)出申請，加上十幾所其他學(xué)校作后備。我知道進入哈佛的勝算并不是我能決定的，而且我的高中幫不了太多的忙，因為我們的高級輔導(dǎo)員管著數(shù)以百計的學(xué)生。所以我讀了無數(shù)本關(guān)于大學(xué)申請的書。如果說我從這些書中學(xué)到了什么，那就是沒有什么比那些老套沉悶的自薦文更快被淘汰的了，如“請允許我跟你說一說我贏得小鎮(zhèn)競賽的那段兒吧”之類的。而我寫的文章則是關(guān)于我所注意到的科學(xué)與人文學(xué)科之間爭持態(tài)勢日增的現(xiàn)象。提前幾個月，我就找到我那些厲害有加而日理萬機的老師們，笑著讓他們給我寫推薦信，并奉上已貼好郵票的信封。

讓我高興的是，2011年12月15日，我被告知哈佛大學(xué)錄取了我，那是我生日的前三天。那個晚上，在接收完所有的祝賀短訊和擁抱之后，我坐在自己的房間里，不由自主地哭了起來。

我感覺到自己受困于面前的兩個世界里。一邊是貌似無可限量的機會——全額獎學(xué)金、職場晉升、出游機會。但我以什么作為犧牲與之交換呢？母親與我一直沒有穩(wěn)固的經(jīng)濟基礎(chǔ)，以后也不會有什么奇跡般的轉(zhuǎn)變。我突然明白自己為什么會因為母親猶豫的表情而感到困擾了：那表情與我們第一次被人趕出租住的家時，她看我的表情一模一樣。如果我走了，母親怎么辦？母親被解雇后的幾周里，我的擔(dān)心與日俱增。

“你被哈佛錄取是我這輩子最光榮的事，”母親說，“如果我看到你放棄哈佛，我才該死?！?/p>

我沒有放棄。

今年的早些時候，我讀了篇關(guān)于名校無法吸引貧困學(xué)生的文章：斯坦福大學(xué)的一個調(diào)查發(fā)現(xiàn)，在來自于最低收入家庭的頂尖學(xué)生中，僅有34%進入了全國的238所重點院校。我不相信僅僅增加助學(xué)金、制作精美的宣傳冊就能轉(zhuǎn)變這個趨勢。迫使我們遠離名校的真實原因是文化上的：進入一個全新環(huán)境的恐懼，離開至親至愛讓其獨自應(yīng)對漸增經(jīng)濟壓力的負罪感，希望自己早日工作養(yǎng)家糊口的沖動。我開始思考：“我是誰，竟然認為自己屬于哈佛——這所布什家族、肯尼迪家族和羅姆尼家族的母校？或許我本該待在密西西比州，那里才屬于我?！?/p>

然后還有那些有關(guān)生存選擇的問題：這事為什么那么重要，我反復(fù)考量自己的夢想與潛在動機，甚至開始思考我一直受困其中的問題重重的社會經(jīng)濟結(jié)構(gòu)。

這一年的課程下來，我以自己從未預(yù)料到的方式改變了。當(dāng)我看著自己的同伴們——一群不拘一格的文學(xué)愛好者、科學(xué)天才、音樂達人、數(shù)學(xué)奇才——在他們各自的領(lǐng)域里謙恭地追求著卓越，我備受鼓舞，也感到了略微的不足，并對未來充滿了希望。

我想我現(xiàn)在明白，為何母親讓我來到哈佛。哈佛迫使我成長，讓我坦誠地看待這個世界，看待自己。