My Final Impression of Yale

Time flies. This is the sixth week, a week of parting, and also, a difficult goodbye time. There was the first, sudden realization that I had to leave, followed by the calm, objective realization that it’s time to leave. And then there was the peacefully packing my belongings, finishing my papers and exams, and hanging out with friends one more time.

Yale is diversified. As I explore deeper, I find out that every corner of the campus takes on a distinctive, unique look. Berkeley has the finest lawn, the large windows of its dining hall are large and clean, like diamonds, like crystal. When crossing the cross campus and entering North Berkeley, the old tire is still lying in the little pool on the grass, as if telling the old stories of the college. The cross campus is not only the place where I saw boys playing soccer, but also the place where the school provided a wonderful picnic for us, the way I must took every day I went to classes. At first I just appreciated the beauty of this campus, but now I feel warmth, I feel that I am a part of it.

Walking slowly past the Sterling Memorial Library, on the path with trees on both sides of it, it's as if can still see Marina Keegan still standing there, with her yellow coat and confident smile, “We are so young”, her words keep circling in my mind, I feel the opposite of loneliness, actually, in Yale. I can still remember the tour around Yale art gallery, where the guards would smile to us and always walk around, looking after the paintings and sculptures as if they were their babies. I was also lucky to experience one of the greenest halls in the world, the Koons Hall at Yale, where the instructor told us so much about recycling and clean energy, which is the field he himself is devoted to. I admire the guide interpreter who led us around Peabody Museum, he looked so knowledgeable and patiently taught us the revolution from dinosaurs to birds…In Yale, whatever you are interested in, you can find someone to work with, full of passion and focus. That’s what youth is about, that’s why we won’t feel lonely.

Now, as I am going to leave, I explore Yale again. The peaceful atmosphere, the neo-classic architecture, and the choir singing from the churches. “I will come back again”, I say to myself.

A Modern Pioneer

Cheryl Strayed, the writer of the bestselling novel Wild, wrote about her experience before deciding to take the three-month hike in the first chapter. While reading through the sincere words describing her childhood and upbringing with her mother, together with her memory of the last days with her mother, I was not only moved, but I feel that the bravery of her mother infected her and encouraged her to take this ridiculously difficult hike. Strayed wrote of her mother, “She liked her life as a modern pioneer” and clearly Strayed admired her mother greatly.

Firstly, Strayed’s mother was not afraid to make her own life choices and decisions. She was being abused by her husband and couldn’t put up with it any more, “By twenty-eight she managed to leave him for the last time”. She left and carried her three children with her. We can just imagine how hard it can be for a single mother to raise three children alone but she faced the reality bravely and tried her best to feed the family. “She had one job, than another”, and although they were still poor, she told her children that they were not poor because they were rich in love. She managed to make a living, what’s more, she managed to make a colorful living, “We had lived among the comforts of the modern age”. She dated men and the children had a father named Eddie. She was really a great mother because she was able to create happiness for her children and for herself, boosting their courage to fight for a better life.

Secondly，she was an aspirant for knowledge and a degree regardless of her age, “My mother had always wanted to get her degree”. She was forty and too old for college, but she persuaded her daughter to let her in. She made great efforts and earned straight A’s. She was ambitious in her study, which showed that she was passionate towards life. She was devoted to improving herself and becoming a worthy, valuable woman.

Thirdly, while she was facing death, she appeared strong. At first she could not even accept the fact, refusing morphine from the nurse and saying, “Morphine is what they give to dying people, Morphine means there’s no hope.” She also once asked the real doctor if she could still ride her horse. She was so indomitable that she refused to give up her life. When she suffered from pain and was asked by her daughter how she felt, she replied “Oh, honey”, because she did not want her children to worry about her. She forgave her son for not staying with her. She endured the pain, the suffering, the fear when facing death, all by herself.

Being decisive, optimistic, ambitious and tolerant, Cheryl’s mother deserved to be called as “A Modern Pioneer”, and though she died an early age, her love and courage would support the writer for the rest of her life.

The Old State House

        Walking along the Freedom Trail in Boston was really a pleasure for me, for I just needed to follow a line of red bricks embedded in the ground and enjoy the scenes surrounding me. When I turned around a corner, an old, red house caught my attention.

Built (up) of red bricks with white windows, it was obviously a house with a long history. Surrounded by modern, high buildings, it was really outstanding in this tiny square. The golden eagle that stood on the top of the house showed its extraordinary status. I walked closer. The board hanging on the wall read that the house was “The Old State House”.

No longer serving as the state house, the building is now an excellent museum. I anxiously walked inside. The museum had two floors. The first floor introduced the history of the house and exhibited some antiquities related. I walked through the corridor slowly while reading the words and admiring the pictures on the wall, as if I was crossing back in time to the very creation of this state, and went through the history of Boston, of Massachusetts, as if I experienced those exciting historical moments all by myself.
The Old Statehouse witnessed the fundamental change in Massachusetts government resulting from the Revolution-the transition from Colony to Commonwealth. In 1760, while the King of England ruled the colony, the building served both as the colonial capital and as the commercial center of the thriving port of Boston. In the 1760’s, a conflict arose between England and her American colonies, the initial controversy centered on Parliament’s right to tax the colonies, the Boston Tea-Party was very famous, for generations, songs and poems praised the patriots’ inspirational actions.

The most exciting part was from 1772 to 1776, named as “From Resistance to Revolution”, after eighteen months of occupation, tensions between the troops and town reached the breaking point. On March 5, 1770, insults and disorder escalated into gunfire outside the Old State House.

“The die is cast…Heaven only knows what is next to take place, but it seems to me the Sword is now our only, yet dreadful alternative…”, was written from Abigail Adams to Mercy Otis Warren on February 3, 1775.

And I saw swords and bombs which they used at that time on exhibition. Caressing the showcase window and gazing at them, I could imagine how brave and heroic the town citizens were in the Boston Massacre. Looking back on the history, I was touched by their determination to fight for freedom and equal rights, for the government of their own city and state, for the sovereignty of their country.

         After climbing the spiral staircase to the second floor, I was surprised to find that the rooms are restored perfectly as The Council Chamber and Representatives hall in 1764. The long table, the chairs, the stoves and the old clock, were sitting there quietly, but I could hear the long stories they were telling to every visitor from day to day. “A long time ago, Boston was a busy seaport, and then an empire of goods……”

There were some other rooms designed especially for children, where they could use the toy to build up the Old State House and read historical cartoons. The well-educated Bostonians would not stop passing their unique stories and spirits to the next generation; the history and culture of this city is absolutely a mental treasure for them.

Looking from the window of the building, I got a view of this modern city, the clean asphalt roads, the shining street lights and busy traffic. This is true. Boston is a city with a perfect combination of modern and classic. Though the city is a center of education, medicine and finance nowadays, it hasn’t forgotten its history and it continues learning from it. This building was the site of the first reading of the “Declaration of Independence” in Boston, which would later be considered an almost  spiritual symbol. The citizens’ spirit of fighting for independence and freedom will never fade.

Stepping out of the house, I smiled and realized why the Freedom Trail took me to this house.

A Contrast Paper

In the story “A Mother in Mannville” and the novel The Glass Castle, we see two distinctly different relationships between adults and children. In spite of the fact that the narrator was not the real parent of Jerry, she was more parental towards Jerry than Jeannette’s real parents were to her. The relationship between Jerry and the narrator was encouraging, responsible and indirect, while the biological relationship was rough, irresponsible and direct.

Firstly, the parenting style of the narrator, like a mother figure, was comforting and encouraging, in contrast to that of Jeannette’s parents which was rough and hard. The moment the narrator saw the wood Jerry had cut, she praised his work as “splendid” and said “You’ve done as much as a man”. She also described Jerry in the setting sun in a beautiful way. By using metaphors and describing the color of his hair and eyes, she illustrated a miraculous image in which Jerry was like an angel. I can imagine the way the narrator gazed at Jerry, it must have been full of love and mercy, trying to protect the little prince from all possible hurt. However, in The Glass Castle, Rosemary, the mother of three children, had her own theory of bringing up children; she ignored her kids when they cried, she said that fussing over children who cry only encouraged them and that was positive reinforcement for negative behavior.

Secondly, the sense of parental responsibility was different in the two stories. Although the narrator was not the real mother of Jerry, she took care of him and even had the idea to adopt him, which can be proved in her upset reaction when she heard that Jerry had a mother in Mannville. But as Jeannette’s real father, Rex Walls was not qualified as a parent because he did not provide financially, ha was not able to afford all the necessaries needed to raise a child, such as sufficient food or simply an apartment. As Jeannette said “We were sort of like the cactus. We ate irregularly, and when we did, we’d gorge ourselves”. It was also unbelievable that they once ate green grapes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for several weeks. 

Thirdly, in “A Mother in Mannville”, the mother figure expressed her love for Jerry in an indirect way, while in The Glass Castle, Jeannette’s father Rex showed his love for his children directly. Clear proof of the narrator’s indirect expression is when she told Jerry, “you may come tomorrow”, instead of saying that she enjoyed his accompany. When she finally decided to leave for Mexico, she thought it was relieving for her to not see Jerry again, but she left some money to buy gifts for Jerry at Christmas and on his birthday. It was obvious that the mother figure was thoughtful and generous to prepare the gifts for him in advance, but she just did all these things silently. In contrast, Rex never begrudged his words about how much he loved his children and what he was going to do for them. He assured his kids that as long as he was around, they would not have to defend themselves. He found it easy to announce that he could put all his kids under his protection. What’s more, he told his kids that he would build a Glass Castle for them, that is, “a great big house he was going to build for us in the desert”. Rex had a dream, he wanted to make a better life for his family though the idea seemed a little ridiculous, and he felt free to speak it out and share it with his kids.

In conclusion, when it comes to the relationship between adults and children, the story “A Mother in Mannville” and the novel The Glass Castle take on different types. The first one was comforting, responsible and indirect, while the other was hard, irresponsible and direct. But as the saying goes, whatever exists is reasonable. Love is eternal whatever the expressions.

Statement of Purpose

I am applying for the joint degree program Master of Science in Foreign Service/Master of Business Administration (MSFS/MBA).

I very much appreciate your program’s combination of the required MSFS workshop with MSFS and MBA electives, because in some ways, operating a government is similar to operating a company; they must share common knowledge and skills in the field of administration. At the same time, the background in advanced international affairs will surely be useful when dealing with business issues as every decision you make for the company requires a cautious consideration of the foreign policy and global situation.

   Professor Bennett, who teaches courses on the American foreign policy process, international relations theory, and qualitative research methods, is the co-author, with Alexander L. George, of “Case Studies and Theory Development in the Social Sciences”, which won the Giovanni Sartori Prize for the best book on qualitative methods in 2005. I was really impressed by their work when I read it a few months ago. By reminding us that the central challenge of political science is understanding why political outcomes occur, they perform a great service to a discipline that in recent years has grown unhealthily obsessed with hypothesis testing alone. Professor Bennett has served as an advisor on foreign policy issues for several Democratic Presidential candidates since 1984. I admire him so much that I relish the thought of taking his classes, especially in the field of qualitative research methods, which I mastered in Fudan University.

   I am qualified and prepared for this program in the following ways.

Firstly, as I have a bachelor’s degree in international politics, I have a basic background of international relationships and international affairs, as you can see in my resume I was in the top 10% in my major study.

Secondly, I always have the passion to take the leading role in projects and I have the ability to manage people as well as my time which I think is essential for both MSFS and MBA. As the league secretary of my class, I organized trips to museums and parks. I designed interesting games and forms to catch my classmates’ interests and help ourselves to learn the history of China in a realistic and entertaining manner. In our college student union, I was the vice-minister of the human resource department and was responsible for establishing the evaluation system of each department. Leading a group of 13 members, I managed to do a complete evaluation of all 910 members in the student union at the end of a semester.

In a conference on China-ASEAN Relations and the Building of the Maritime Silk Road in my home university, volunteers were urgently needed, so I signed up. I hardly had any time to prepare for the background knowledge about ASEAN, but by listening to the conference leaders and (making notes,) by communicating with the professors during their free time, I was able to write a review of the presented papers in the conference within three days.

I am young, I have the energy and ability to learn anything well as long as I have a strong desire. I believe in myself. I believe that I can also do well in  Business Administration as well.

Thirdly, I am familiar with the American culture and teaching methods in US colleges as I studied in America for half a year when I was in my junior year of undergraduate study. During my summer holiday in 2016, I went to Yale University for a 6-week long ELI program. I studied English with many international classmates there and improved my language skills. After that, I went to Berkeley for the fall semester and took 12 credits. I love the free and dynamic teaching way in the US and I am accustomed to it.

Lastly I dream to do international business and possibly open my own transnational corporation when I graduate. This desire may have some relationship with my family because my father is an international businessman and I was exposed to international trade at an early age. But it’s more related to my motivation that I hope to do something to change the world. Thanks to my many voluntary experiences which are listed in my resume, I realized that there are many people in this world who need more help and more efforts have to be made to add to the equity of our society. International trade is great and magical as it can benefit both countries at the same time. It is for the common good of all mankind. As I said in the first part of my statement, I love the combination of MSFS and MBA, because this program will help me reach my life goal.

In conclusion, this program is the right one for me, and I am the student you are looking for. Just give me a chance and I will prove myself by my efforts and intelligence.

The Organ Grinder

Having no work to do today, it occurs to me to open the cabinet and take out the picture. The sun shines through the window and the colors of the picture look more intense! I caress it gently. It brings me back to the lovely afternoon with a family in the countryside.

I am an organ grinder. Accompanied by my organ and little monkey. I always stroll busy streets in New York, go inside the expensive restaurants and play for the rich people there. That’s the way I earn my living.

It was Sunday. It was a fine day. I planned to visit some of my relatives in the countryside. The sky was blue and clear with clouds floating. The small paths cut the fields and wound their ways towards the end of the field. The early spring wind was a little cold but it brought the wonderful smell of flowers, everything was coming up green. I dressed up in my favorite red T-shirt and grey coat, and sang some sweet songs all along the way.

Some loud laughter and cheers attracted my attention when I was passing a house. I curiously approached the window to see what was happening. The family was having a get-together, they were encouraging their baby girl to walk by herself.

“Stand up and keep trying!”

As the girl fell on the ground, all the other family members cheered for her.

I was fixing my eyes on the interesting scene when a young man walked towards me and said,

“You’ve got such an amazing barrel organ! Why not come in and perform before the full household!”

I hesitated, as it was easy to tell that the family was not rich, the walls were not painted and I could even see the bricks exposed. There were some old clothes hanging on strings and old coats hanging on the wall. The dining table was small and there wasn’t much food on it. I doubted whether they would be able to pay for my performance.

The young man was so enthusiastic that he opened the door and invited me anxiously,

“Everyone is waiting for you, my honored guest! You turn up as a surprise, as a gift for all of us!”

As I went in, I greeted my audience and took out my notes. My organ used wooden barrels with pins or nails to carry the notes. As the barrel turned, the pins opened valves allowing air into the pipes. The air was provided by a bellows pumped by the same crank that turned the barrel. The baby girl, who was sitting on her mother's knees was very curious when I did those sorts of things. Her eyes were wide open as she tried to reach out her hand to touch the organ.

“Go and find out how it works”,  her mother encouraged kindly.

Instead of playing complex melodies, I chose a relaxing country song. The baby girl’s elder brother, the young man who invited me in, lay on the ground and played with the monkey. The host of the house in a green coat was a soldier and he might have a short vacation, so he looked relaxed, with one of his legs up. The baby girl’s uncle also came to this family party. He immersed himself in my music and tapped his plate to the music. Her grandmother held the arms of her husband, talking about the interesting show.

“What do you think of the song?” I asked.

“Great! We feel at ease, one more please!”

Without too many fancy words, those simple praises were so faithful that I felt really respected. I felt my value in bringing happiness to others and spreading art to common people.

Two of their neighbors just came back from the field and they were still sweating, but still they were welcomed by the family and quickly adapted themselves into the artistic atmosphere.

I lost myself in the party with this lovely family, their behaviors were quite different from those I was used to. Those gentlemen and ladies always sat tightly. They pretended to know a lot about music and commented a lot in fancy words. In their eyes, I was like a clown offering entertainment to them and did not deserve true respect. In contrast, this family I met infected me and I realized that life could be so peaceful, harmonious. It could be full of faith, passion and freedom, I really appreciated the true interactions between the family members. What’s more, they made me have more passion and love for my music career.

At that time, Francis William Edmonds, a successful banker as well as an artist, came in and painted the picture of the scene. He gave his painting to me as a gift.

”Thank you for creating such a great performance, I cherish what I saw and heard as a gift” Francis said.

“You are welcome, actually I cherish the lovely family I met today as a surprise that came my way.”

Believe in the Future

The bus was leaving and in a few minutes we would be out of this village, which was poor, dirty, and isolated but full of my memories of my past fourteen days. My friend tried her best to comfort me by patting me on the back, but my eyes were filled with tears. I dared not look back. There my “sister” stood with other children; they were waving to us and saying goodbye.

Fourteen days ago I arrived with my classmates at this village in the province of Gansu. Being top students in our university and selected to be volunteer teachers to support education in poor areas of my country, we were ambitious that we could make a change to this place.

         The sky was blue and clean, but as it was cut by the rolling mountains, it seems small and round, its edges were extremely clear. There were terraced fields on both sides of the road, step by step they reached the top of the mountain, and there were more mountains on the other side of these. The sun was strong. The land was so dry that cracks were everywhere, like the patches on their clothes. Dung was used on the gardens so at first we could not help covering our mouths and noses. The dogs barked occasionally; it was hard to see houses as they were hidden in the mountains, only lonely columns of smoke rose from the mountains.

From the first day, we had been teaching classes to the children from the village and at the same time, preparing for the final performance, which is due on the last day of our teaching program when we would  invite their parents to be our audience.

“Attention, please! My dear students! We are going to learn a poem today, whoever reads best will be chosen to take the leading role of the poetry reading performance” I raised my voice and smiled, looking around the class.

The classroom was small and shabby with shabby walls and half-broken windows. The light was dim. Some of the desks and chairs were broken and some children had to lean on the desk. But they all stared up at me, highly focused and highly motivated.

I turned around and wrote the title of the poetry on the blackboard: “Believe in the Future” As soon as I finished, I could hear whispering from the back of the room, “Believe in the Future”, they were repeating to themselves.

“When cobwebs relentlessly clog my stove;

When its dying smoke sighs for poverty;

I will stubbornly dig out the disappointing ash;

And write with beautiful snowflakes: Believe in the Future”,

By reading these lines aloud and explaining the background, I, together with my students, went through the author’s deepest thoughts, resistance and striving during the darkest time in China.

“Since we have finished reading, what touched you most in the poetry?”

A slim girl named Ming Yin, who had always been a top student in my class, raised her hand, “His determination of hope and belief in future regardless of his terrible political situation” I nodded my head: “Great answer!”

“Teacher Chen, can I try the leading role? I want my mother to be proud of me” Ming Yin’s voice shook slightly and her face turned red. “Of course, you can”, I looked at her in the eyes

“Since practice makes perfect, may I visit your home this weekend and give you some instructions?” I asked.

“That would be great! I will tell my mother the good news!” Cheerfully she ran towards her home and disappeared at the end of the road.

Finally the big day came, Ming Yin stood straight in front of the whole group, head up, and she gave me a confident smile. The background music started. She recited the sentence with the music, loud and passionate enough to touch all the audience: “Friends, please believe in the future, believe in our unbending striving, believe in our youth that can conquer death, believe in the future and love your life!”

The voice constantly circled in my mind and I couldn’t calm down any more, because I really did not know how could she believe in her future when I thought back on the visit to her home.

It was high on the hill and I was out of breath when I got there. Her mother, holding her little sister, came to open the door and welcomed me warmly. I was astonished when I looked around, the room was about 10 square meters, the walls were not painted, but were decorated by countless awards. There wasn’t a bathroom, actually they were even lacking in clean water for drink. Mosquitoes flew everywhere.

Even though her mother managed to serve me with a cup of tea, steamed bread, and a bowel of vegetable soup with little meat floating on the surface.

“How is everything going here?”

“Fine,” said her mother,” Her father is working in a city to make money and comes back once a year. Five years after the death of her younger brother, I finally had this baby”, the little baby girl was busy raising herself on tiptoe in order to reach the snack I brought there.

“Mum promised to buy me a bicycle for my last birthday, but my sister got ill, so we had to bring her to hospital…”She said as she bit her lower lip.

“it’s OK”, I held her hand and said, ”From now on I am your older sister ”.

All good things must come to an end, they say.14 days passed and I had to leave. I hold Ming Yin tightly in my arms, sobbing and speechless. After a while, she wiped away her tears and smiled to me “sister, it’s time for you to go, don’t worry, I will always believe in the future and love my life”.

I could not help crying when I got on the bus. Ming yin was only twelve years old, she had not ever seen the world out of the mountains, but she had such a determined desire and ambition, and she did make great efforts. I wished her a bright future.