The first time I met Carla, she was sitting on the floor alone in the middle of the lunchroom while the rest of her cabin played outside. Carla was a frizzy-haired 11-year-old girl with autism. It was her first time away from home, and she was struggling to adjust to the new patterns, people, and places. At the same time, as her camp counselor, I was trying desperately to figure out her needs. Carla could not communicate spontaneously, and she responded to my questions only by repeating them. It was difficult helping her transition from one activity to the next, because whenever a game ended, Carla would just flop down on the ground and refuse to budge. I tried singing songs, dancing, and playing "follow the leader, " but nothing uprooted Carla. Then suddenly, after a few days of working with her, I noticed that Carla was fascinated with hands. Although she would not hold people’s hands, she liked to touch them and look at them, and I soon discovered that I could use her interest to motivate her to participate in life around her. For the next two weeks, I transformed my hands into butterfly wings, and the two of us flew around camp together. Although we could not communicate verbally, we found a connection more powerful than conversation, and I discovered how deeply satisfying it is to help other people, particularly those who cannot speak for themselves.

I have dreamed of becoming a physician since childhood, because medicine offers the rare opportunity to combine science and humanism to make a real difference in other people’s lives. I have a longstanding love of science, which led me to major in engineering in college because I enjoyed working on applied scientific questions. Most of my course work and extracurricular activities were science-related, but my interest in medicine solidified, ironically, during the summer when I took my first break from science. During the fall semester of my junior year, I began to feel overwhelmed by conflicting responsibilities in my course work, part-time employment, and various extracurricular activities. I realized that I had spent most of the previous decade enrolled in academic, research, and community service projects to prepare myself for the challenge of medical school, but I had not yet confirmed that aspiration. I tried to focus on what made me happy at the time, and I realized my most beloved experiences occurred while I volunteered at a pre-school with disabled children. Whether I spent my time helping the children swim, reading to them, or simply chasing after them, I always left with the feeling that I had made a small impact on their lives.

I researched camps for children with special needs, and after talking with directors and former counselors at numerous programs, I chose to become a counselor at the Frost Valley YMCA Mainstreaming at Camp program. I started that summer both excited and daunted by what lay ahead. The counselors and directors warned me that the job would be emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausting, but I had no idea what I would encounter. That summer became the hardest and most rewarding time of my life. Every two weeks a new group of children with a wide range of developmental disabilities entered my life and became dependent upon me for almost all of their care. I quickly realized how different each child was and tried to adjust my counseling style to fit their individual needs. Motivating and communicating with children who cannot -- or will not -- reciprocate your efforts requires a great deal of patience and creativity. Working with this special group of children tested me greatly, but I found that the hardest part was saying goodbye at the end of each two-week session.

During my last weeks at Frost Valley, one of my campers, a 19-year-old girl with mental retardation, began having seizures. I recognized her symptoms, but one night her seizures became continuous. We called an ambulance, and I jumped on board so that I could spend the night with her, holding her hand and acting as her medical advocate. Because she looked quite “normal, ” it was difficult for the medical staff to understand that she had the communication skills of a 9-year-old. After I explained her condition several times, however, the staff realized that although Jackie looked “normal, ” she required special care. After a long and scary night, Jackie was released from the hospital and sent back to camp. Fortunately, she recovered completely and was happy and healthy for the rest of her time at camp.

I am sure she will never remember how frightened she was that night -- or even my holding her hand -- but I know I will never forget it. That summer, particularly that night, reaffirmed my desire to become a doctor. I realized how critical it is for medical professional to understand the needs of special populations, to work directly with them and their families. I also understood that I could join my two loves by working as a pediatrician for children with special needs. Caring for a child who cannot tell you what is wrong requires a person with patience, skill, and compassion; it is my dream to become one of those people.

點評：

這篇文章較為出色，原因在于作者利用志愿者的工作經歷很好地說明了申請醫(yī)學院的動機，當中的細節(jié)描寫使人留下深刻印象。雖然文章的后半部對于Jackie發(fā)病一事的敘述略顯功力不足，但是整篇文章中，作者對于醫(yī)學的理解和熱情滲透在字里行間，較為真實動人。

譯文：

我第一次遇見Carla的時候，她正獨坐在餐廳中央的地板上，其它的營友們都在外頭玩耍。Carla披一頭卷曲的頭發(fā)，十一歲，患有孤獨癥。這是她第一次出遠門，她正努力去適應新模式，陌生人與陌生的環(huán)境。與此同時，作為她的夏令營顧問，我正盡力嘗試去盤算她的需要。Carla并不能自然地與人溝通，她對于我的詢問的回應，只是把問題復述一次。要帶她從一項活動過渡到另一項活動是困難的，因為，每當游戲結束時，Carla就會坐在地板上，不肯離開。我嘗試過唱歌，跳舞又或是玩“猜主子”，但對Carla都沒用。然后，突然間，在與她一起幾天之后，我發(fā)現(xiàn)Carla對手非常感興趣。即使她不能握著別人的手，她也喜歡觸摸它或注視它。我馬上發(fā)現(xiàn)我可以利用她的興趣激發(fā)她參與身邊活動的熱情。在接下來的兩周內，我把我的雙手變成了蝴蝶的翅膀，引著我倆流轉于學校之中。雖然我們并不能以言辭交流，但我們卻建立起了比對話更有力的聯(lián)系。而且，我發(fā)現(xiàn)幫助他人是如此的有滿足感，特別是對于那些不能為自己說話的人。

我自小就希望成為一名醫(yī)生，因為醫(yī)學提供了彌足珍貴的機會，讓我們結合科學與人道主義，從而改變他人的生活。我對科學有著持久的熱愛，這致使我在大學期間選修了工程學，因為我喜歡解決應用性科學問題。我所學的課程，所參與的課外活動，大多與科學相關，但是我對于醫(yī)學的興趣，諷刺地，卻是凝固于我從科學中逃離的日子。大三的那個秋天，我開始被學業(yè)，兼職工作，社團活動三者間互相沖突職責壓得透不過氣。我意識到我在過去的十年間參與的學術，科研，社區(qū)服務活動，為我迎接醫(yī)學院的挑戰(zhàn)做好了準備。但是，我并未能確認我對此的渴望。我嘗試專注于那些能讓我快樂的事情，而當我在一間殘障兒童預備學院做志愿者時，我意識到讓我最醉心的歷程開始了。無論是幫助這些兒童游泳，還是給他們讀書，或是簡單地跟在他們身后，我總是感到我對他們的生活有著一點一滴的影響。

我為這些有特殊需要的兒童對夏令營作了個調查，在與主管和眾多不同項目的前負責人交談后，我選擇了作為一名輔導員，參與到Frost Valley YMCA Mainstreaming at Camp program中。如前頭所說的，我在興奮與沮喪中展開了這個夏天。顧問與主管提醒我，這份工作會非常累，無論是在情緒上，精神上還是身體上，但我并不知道我會遇到什么。這個夏天成了我生命中最艱難，也是最有收獲的時光。每兩周就會有一組有著各式各樣發(fā)展缺陷的兒童加入到我的生活中，然后開始對我?guī)缀醢侔阋蕾嚒Ｎ液芸煲庾R到，每一個兒童之間是如此不一樣，我嘗試去調整我的詢問風格，以適應他們的個性化需要。對這些不能，或是不愿，響應你的努力的孩子進行激勵及溝通，需要極大的耐性與創(chuàng)造力。與這些特殊的群體進行協(xié)作，是對我的重大考驗，但我發(fā)現(xiàn)，最難度過的，卻是每兩周課程結束時道別的一刻。

上周，在Frost Valley，我的一個夏令營隊員，一個患有智力遲鈍的19歲女孩，開始癲癇發(fā)作。我觀察到她的癥兆，一晚，她的癲癇變得持續(xù)不斷。我們召了救護車，我也跳了上車，以便在晚上照顧她，我捉緊她的雙手，并充當他的醫(yī)療辯護人。因為她看上去十分正常，對于醫(yī)護人員來說，很難理解她只有9歲孩童的溝通能力。當我多次解釋她的病況后，醫(yī)護人員們只是認為，Jackie看上去正常，但是也需要特殊的照料。經過一個漫長而恐懼的夜晚后，Jackie出院回到營地里。所幸的是，她完全好了，健康快樂地與其它人一起度過了營地的余下時光中。

我確信她永不會記得，她那晚是如何地抗爭——或是甚至我握住她的手——但我知道，我永遠不會忘記。那個夏天，特別是那個晚上，我重新肯定了我成為一名醫(yī)生的愿望。我認識到與特殊群體及其家人的接觸，對于醫(yī)療工作者明白特殊群體的需要是如此的重要。照料一個不能告訴你什么是錯誤的孩子，需要耐心，技巧與惻隱之心；我的夢想就是成為這樣的人。