3月30日是美国常春藤大学放榜的日子，华裔第一代移民萧靖彤(Cassandra Hsiao)当天得知，自己收到了八所常春藤盟校的录取通知书。

　　萧靖彤(右)与母亲(左)(图片：BBC中文网)

　　据BBC中文网报道，最近，一个出生于马来西亚的17岁美国华裔女孩萧靖彤被全部八所常春藤盟校录取，成为热门话题。

　　萧靖彤的父亲是台湾人，母亲是马来西亚华人，五岁时移居美国。萧靖彤目前住在加州核桃市，毕业于橙县艺术学校(Orange County School of the Arts)。

　　这个女孩之所以被八所常青藤学校录取，主要是由于她写了一篇作文。而这篇作文之所以打动了八所常青藤盟校，是因为写出了真情实感。

　　她在作文中回顾了她和母亲在美国学习英语的艰难经历。刚到美国时，她们的英语发音不准。萧靖彤写道：“在我家里，英语不是英语”，但她和家人却能毫无问题地沟通。她写道："在我家里，我们说话的方式很美。在我家里，我们的话并不‘烂’，而是充满了感情。我们用词语建了一座房子……这房子有点歪，有点杂乱无章，但这是我们的家。”

　　这篇文章目前已经吸引了哈佛大学、普林斯顿大学、耶鲁大学、达特茅斯大学、布朗大学、哥伦比亚大学、康奈尔大学和宾夕法尼亚大学。因为同时被8所常春藤名校录取，所以卡桑德拉需要在这8所学校中做出选择。

　　据悉，18岁的萧靖彤共申请14所大学的写作或新闻类学系，目前全部录取。萧靖彤有感而发说：之所以申请这么多，主要是亚裔学生能力强，竞争激烈，很怕无法被录取，担心自己没选择。

　　除了文章吸引各大名校外，其实萧靖彤也是一位多才多艺的姑娘。据美国The Tab报道，萧靖彤在学校的时候经常作为青少年记者做一些采访，并且编写舞台剧故事。

　　目前，萧靖彤还未决定去哪所大学。她将在几个星期内访问各大名校，看哪所最适合自己。“我接下来会去这些学校一一参观，再作决定。”不过她透露自己一直很喜欢哈佛大学，七年级时她曾去过哈佛参观。

　　当被问到在申请大学论文中关注重点是什么时，萧靖彤说，自己的父母都是移民，英文不是他们的第一语言，而自己在一个移民家庭里生长也十分有趣。“而当自己在家外说一些在家里使用的词汇时，外面的人会嘲笑我，但这些东西对于我来说是十分正常的，所以我把这些经历都写到申请作文里去了。”

　　萧靖彤表示："身份认同感和归属感是最能让人产生共鸣的东西。我想和他人分享我家庭生活的一个侧面，我和母亲的感情和我们俩的经历。"

　　当萧靖彤谈到自己母亲时，他表示感谢母亲对自己的教育。她说：“我妈妈是一个我可以学习的榜样。她让我脚踏实地，教我不仅要敢于梦想，还要通过实干来使梦想成真。”

　　萧靖彤的母亲也充满了自豪：“当我们打开她的大学录取信时，我和靖彤都哭了。她表现了她的成熟和智慧，不仅在学习方面，还有她待人处事的方式上。”

　　萧靖彤的作文：

　　In our house, English is not English. Not in the phonetic sense, like short a is for apple, but rather in the pronunciation – in our house, snake is snack. Words do not roll off our tongues correctly – yet I, who was pulled out of class to meet with language specialists, and my mother from Malaysia, who pronounces film as flim, understand each other perfectly.

　　In our house, there is no difference between cast and cash, which was why at a church retreat, people made fun of me for “cashing out demons.” I did not realize the glaring difference between the two Englishes until my teacher corrected my pronunciations of hammock, ladle, and siphon. Classmates laughed because I pronounce accept as except, success as sussess. I was in the Creative Writing conservatory, and yet words failed me when I needed them most.

　　Suddenly, understanding flower is flour wasn’t enough. I rejected the English that had never seemed broken before, a language that had raised me and taught me everything I knew. Everybody else’s parents spoke with accents smarting of Ph.D.s and university teaching positions. So why couldn’t mine?

　　My mother spread her sunbaked hands and said, “This is where I came from,” spinning a tale with the English she had taught herself.

　　When my mother moved from her village to a town in Malaysia, she had to learn a brand new language in middle school: English. In a time when humiliation was encouraged, my mother was defenseless against the cruel words spewing from the teacher, who criticized her paper in front of the class. When she began to cry, the class president stood up and said, “That’s enough.”

　　“Be like that class president,” my mother said with tears in her eyes. The class president took her under her wing and patiently mended my mother’s strands of language. “She stood up for the weak and used her words to fight back.”

　　We were both crying now. My mother asked me to teach her proper English so old white ladies at Target wouldn’t laugh at her pronunciation. It has not been easy. 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 brokenness slide to spare her pride but perhaps I have hurt her more to spare mine.

　　As my mother’s vocabulary began to grow, I mended my own English. Through performing 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 street performer on a New York subway. My mother’s eyes are reflected in underprivileged ESL children who have so many stories to tell but do not know how. I fill them with words as they take needle and thread to make a tapestry.

　　In our 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 house out 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 our home.

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