这个世界应该遵循着客观规律来运转才是良性的生存方式；良性竞争换一句话说，符合生存法则定律：适者生存。在竞争中我们可以更深的认识自己，更好的改变世界。
我十岁那年，祖母教我玩Boggle，2年后她已经不是我的对手了。Boggle是一种拼字游戏，参与者摇动六面印有字母的方形色子，最后，在16个英文字母里找出你所拼出的单词。我清楚的记得当时我拼出的是一个2分的单词“WRENS”（鹪鹩），就是这5个字母组成的单词让我打败了祖母，通常，小型普通的词汇只有一分的比重。
祖母“囤积”了大量4个字母结构的词汇量，时不时的还穿插一些3个字母组成的过时的“首饰”词汇。幸运的是，2个月的暑期里，我阅读了大量的扩展性历史小说，丰富了词汇量，开阔了视野，这些陈旧而古老的“首饰”丝毫不能逃脱我的法眼。当我拼出“WRENS”，她找不到赢我的筹码，继“NEW”“SEW”之后，她又忘记将它们组合起来，犯了致命的错误，最终，我以一分之差赢得了比赛。
这段记忆是我童年世界的掠影：我享受竞争带给我的快感。直到升入初中，我遇到了对手，他叫Kevin，是坐在教室第3排的蓝眼睛的数学神童。他会站在讲台上言辞激烈的宣讲男尊女卑的“大道理”，会毫无羞耻的吹嘘自己的GPA。我的竞争意识一次次的召唤着我，不是为了什么女权主义，而是为了自己的那份骄傲与自尊。最终，我在阅读理解上重重的击败了他，他的语音真是太扯了。他有什么权利去吹嘘自己？我才是真正的天才。
竞争意识是我骨子里真实存在的，到高中阶段，我再一次全力以赴迎战我的新敌手。但是，戏剧社的姑娘们对竞争表现的很冷淡，一时间，我有点儿手足无措。第一次俱乐部会议上，没有人想要谈论下午的历史测验，尽管那里几乎一半的同学都是我们班的。也许和太过压抑的答案相比，她们宁愿选择嘻嘻哈哈开开心心的度过。
她们真的不在意成绩吗？她们一点儿也不担心吗？我不能理解她们那种懒散的行为。但是，在面试的过程里，我却感受到了竞争的火苗，它存在于她们的每一个动作和每一个发音里。但，当表演结束后，那团有待膨胀的火苗却瞬间熄灭了，转而代之的是自我满足感：我实在是太棒了。因为她们没有太强的竞争意识：在表演的过程中，她们希望做到最好来取得录取的资格，但是，结束后一切都结束了，归于平淡；回过头再来评判谁好谁差，又有什么意义呢？只要自己觉得自己是最好的，就够了。
就像舞台装束一样，表演结束就应该卸妆。现在我终于明白了，适时的放松一下，尝试着自我满足何尝不是一件美差。是不是第一并没有我想的那么重要？毕竟，“BEST”只是四个字母组成的单词，只有1分的比重。
释义：
Boggle：是一款拼字游戏。首先游戏的参与者摇动六面印有字母的方形色子，在底部有一个矩阵型的方形盘子，一般而言上面有矩阵排列的小坑；参与者用力摇动那些色子，直到把所有的色子都摇到这个盘子底部，使得每一个小坑里都有一个色子占位。在比赛中，从开始计时直到结束前（用沙漏来计算时间，一般为三分钟），参与者要从这个矩阵中尽可能多地找出你记得的单词。但是寻找单词需要遵守以下一些规则：横向、纵向、或是对角线方向的相邻的字母才能组成单词，不能跳着取字母，当然选词不只是沿着某一个方向，允许拐弯，就好比贪吃蛇游戏那样；显然依照此规则，曾在一个单词中, 用过的字母是不能重复使用的。
ESSAY赏析
作者的幽默如流水般自然的将读者带入她的性格成长中。她本可以将ESSAY与自己的故事更紧密的联系在一起，但是，这丝毫不影响作者在文中表现出来的创造力与成熟的气息。
全文以作者与祖母比赛拼字游戏开始，一路使用了一种欢快的、幽默的语调描写。其中穿插的一句扩展历史小说，还不忘描写自己的学术热情。
接下来的几段叙述了作者童年时代竞争意识的起起落落。这种前后鲜明的写作手法让读者都心甘情愿的跟随者作者的脚步，尽管作者天生具有好斗性，这也是作者最真实的写照。
这篇ESSAY的不足之处在于作者没有深入细致的描写与分析。在一篇ESSAY里，通过描写一个例子来说明比较困难，但是，多而粗是全文的败笔所在。
整体说来，这篇ESSAY的幽默写法成功的把握了主题，作者只需一个更加细致的描写就足矣更好的把握全文。但是，我们依然可以通过作者的描写感受到她的成熟与成长，脱颖而出就够了。
—Frances Jin
参考全文
(18)MARYKATE JASPER—“WHEN I WAS TEN”
When I was ten, my own grandma schooled me in Boggle. I had her beat by the time I was twelve. Boggle is a contest of vocabulary wherein the players wrest what words they can from sixteen given letters. I can still remember the word that bought my victory, W-R-E-N-S, a five-letter beauty worth two points. (All smaller words are only worth one point.)
Grandma had admittedly amassed an impressive hoard of four-letter words, peppered here and there with three-letter archaic jewels. Luckily, two summers of reading extensive historical fiction had readied my eye for spotting those antiquated gems, and I’d matched her word-for-word on that level. But she didn’t find the game-winner W-R-E-N-S. After jotting down quickies like N-E-W and S-E-W, Grandma had forgotten to combine those letters, a fatal oversight. I beat her by one point.
This memory epitomizes my childhood: I was a fiercely competitive kid. Straight through middle school, my arch nemesis was Kevin, the blue-eyed math prodigy in the third row. Preaching male superiority with vehemence worthy of the pulpit, he would brag shamelessly about his grades. I was obsessed with outdoing him, not only for the sake of feminism, but for the sake of my pride. After all, I beat him soundly at reading comprehension, and his spellings were obscenely phonetic. What right had he to brag? I was the real genius.
Competition had long stewed in my blood by the time high school hit, and I had girded myself to vie with a new host of rivals. However, I was not prepared for the drama club, a troupe of girls who seemed shockingly indifferent to competition. At the first drama club meeting, no one seemed concerned about that afternoon’s history test, though I recognized at least half of the freshmen from my class. Instead of chattering nervously about the answers, they were giggling belly-up on the auditorium floor or grinning atop the Steinway.
Didn’t they care? Weren’t they worried? I couldn’t understand them, lounging indolently and teasing one another. And yet, I saw the fire of competition in them during auditions; it blazed in their gestures and ignited their high notes. But as they hopped off the stage, that bonfire shrank to a contented glow: I’ve done well. It was not an obsession for them, the quality of the performance versus the quality of other performances. It was done, closed and sealed; there was no use worrying whether their piece was the best. It was a personal best, and that seemed satisfaction enough.
Like stage makeup, they’ve rubbed off on me. Now I remember to lie belly-up, relaxed and content with my personal best instead of obsessing over whether I am #1. After all, B-E-S-T is only a four-letter word. One point.
COMMENTARY
This applicant’s humorous take on a personality flaw manages to draw readers to her side as she demonstrates her personal growth. She could have benefited from tightening up the essay and drawing upon fewer anecdotes, but the essay still provides a colorful narrative that shows off the writer’s creativity and maturity.
By opening with an anecdote about a competitiveBoggle gameagainst her grandmother, the applicant immediately sets an enjoyable, humorous tone for the essay. She also alludes to her own educational rigor, when she briefly mentions the two summers she spent reading “extensive historical fiction.”
Throughout the next few paragraphs, the author describes the ups and downs of being competitive throughout her childhood. The light, self-deprecating tone of the writing keeps the reader on the applicant’s side, even as she describes her fiercely competitive nature—a true feat.
But this essay could have benefited from the use of greater in-depth analysis of fewer anecdotes. Attempting to address even one anecdote with nuance and reflection in a short essay is difficult, and tackling three weakened this essay by leaving little room for detail of the applicant’s conversion and growth.
Overall, the essay’s humorous tone effectively complements its theme, and all the components for a successful essay are present. It only requires some tightening to present a more cohesive message. Still, the applicant manages to express maturity and growth—desirable qualities in any candidate.
—Frances Jin
