语速快不是什么坏事，但是，如果让对方听不懂你想要表达的意思，就是你的不对了。

关于我的语速问题，首先提出质疑的是我的奶奶。

“宝贝，你能说慢点吗？”电话那头的奶奶急切地打断了我。

奶奶在我的印象中身体一直不是很好，而且很久都没有见过她了，没想到听力也大不如从前；或者是老式话筒的问题，需要更新了，我心想。

第二个说我的是父亲。

“一个字我都听不明白”父亲边吃饭边喊叫，都喷饭了。

而我的母亲一直是我的忠实粉丝。

“不要责备宝贝儿子，我听他说话一点儿问题都没有，是你自己听力下降了。”

一天，母亲打电话给我，她的防线终于崩溃了，“Scotty，你说的太快了，我根本不知道你在说什么。”

数月的时间，一切都变了。当我还是小孩子的时候全世界都明白我在说什么，如今，我转型成为一个语速较快的青年，而我的知己却只剩下了一个叫做Y的好朋友。而与大人交流的时候，还需要一个大概20岁的翻译人员。

尽管如此，我依旧怀疑大人的听力，暗想一定是他们不用心听我说话造成的。我的语速恰到好处。

过了个暑假，我终于理解了父母的纠结与无奈。

作为高中交换生，4个月前我兴致勃勃的去阿根廷度过了一个难忘的暑假。班里几乎都是西班牙人，这对我而言实在是一次难得的机遇。我在学校里结交了很多当地的朋友，以为凭自己的语速可以炫耀一番。结果，才发现要听懂他们含糊不清的发音实在是纠结——

我问，“周末通常都干什么？”一个男孩可能会回答“Well”随后的我就是长时间的沉默，“We . . . clubs . . . night . . . but . . . if . . . pizza . . . then . . . can’t . . . park . . . look . . . dawn.”（注）

我突然意识到自己不会说话了。5年前，我开始学习西班牙语。上课、阅读、用西班牙语辅导学生数学等，但是，我从来没有真正意义上的口语实战。

我开始感觉到吃力，与每一个看似理解的句子抗争，但最终的结果，我成为了我的奶奶，“你必须说的更慢些（Vas a tener que hablar más lentamente）”。

随之而来的则是一连串的质疑。很多人会问我，“你确定自己的听力没问题吗？”

剩余的7周，我身边的当地孩子习惯性的会放慢语速与我交流，而我也慢慢习惯了这种阿根廷式的西语方式。

结束交流，回到加州的家里，父母时而还会觉得我的语速过快。用父母的话说，我应该尽可能的放慢自己的语速，也只有人类才可以通过语言来达到沟通的效果。

我明白了只有通过沟通与交流，人与人之间才能联系的更紧密。我需要听懂别人说什么的同时，别人也需要听懂我在说什么。不管是每月的报纸专栏还是日常交流，我的语言一直是很有力量的。语言可以让人坚持自己的理想也可以让人在平凡与普通中发现美好。

人的一生都是在寻找理解与被理解中度过的。我们需要与周围的其他人沟通，有时，我们必须放慢自己的语速。

在高中校园里，我遇到了我的朋友Daniel Paredes，最近刚从墨西哥移民到美国。他一直在痛苦的学习英语。前不久，刚结束语言课程正式上课。我顺便问了问他的近况。

他用流利的西语告诉我，“几何课简直是噩梦啊！”“为什么这么说？很难吗？”我问道，“你不会明白的”Daniel用不协调的腔调说。我请求他告诉我。“我会英语，也知道老师说什么，只是她说的太快了......”他戛然而止。

我同情的看着他笑了，说“我真的能够体会你的心情。”——End（结束）

COMMENTARY（分析）

全文作者以先抑后扬的方式描写自己语速快受到父母亲人及朋友的质疑与不理解，随后，通过去阿根廷做交换生，作者切身体会到了自己的问题。

最后，作者得到的感悟是成功之笔，但是他并没有用浓重的笔墨去描写交流本身。当作者从哲学的角度谈关于语言力量的时候，理应着重解释一下自己为什么能通过与其家人与朋友的眼睛完成这一认识蜕变。

这篇ESSAY通过以小见大的方式去书写恰到好处。从风格上来说，作者主要是采取人物生动的对话来写文章。这篇ESSAY更像是在写一个故事或者是散文。每一句话都紧扣主题。这种直接的散文式的表达，更突显了作者对于交流与沟通意义的感悟。

原文参考：

SCOTT LEVIN—“YOU SPEAK TOO FAST”

It started with my grandmother.

“You’re going to have to speak more slowly, honey,” she would say, interrupting me as we spoke on the phone.

I hadn’t viewed my grandmother, a frail elderly woman, as a credible gauge of my intelligibility. Her hearing must be failing, I thought. Or, perhaps, her 1970s-era telephone needed to be replaced.

My father was next.

“I cannot understand a word you’re saying!” he exclaimed over dinner, flecks of food flying from his mouth.

My mother would stick up for me.

“Leave the boy alone!” she would say. “I can understand him just fine! It’s your hearing that’s off!”

And then, one day, the dam broke.

“I’m sorry, Scotty,” my mom said with a tinge of regret in her voice. “You speak too fast. I have no idea what you’re saying.”

The transition had happened over the course of months. While I had once been a child easily understood by the world, I was now a fast-talking teenager, whose language was only understood by someone from Generation Y. Among my friends, communication was easy. With adults, one needed a bilingual translator, perhaps a twentysomething.

But I remained incredulous. Adults just needed to focus more, I thought. I was speaking at a perfectly appropriate speed.

This summer, I finally began to understand my parents’ struggle.

Four months ago, I traveled to Argentina to be a high school exchange student. I was excited at the prospect of attending classes entirely in Spanish; it would be my chance to attain fluency. In school, I made many Argentine friends. But speaking quickly to them seemed to be a sport. Suddenly, I was the one who was struggling to extract words from their slurred discourse.

“What do you do on the weekends?” I would ask.

“Well,” a boy would start. That “well” was the windup before a long headfirst dive. “We . . . clubs . . . night . . . but . . . if . . . pizza . . . then . . . can’t . . . park . . . look . . . dawn.”

Suddenly, I was the one who did not speak the language. For five years I had studied Spanish. I had taken classes, read books, and tutored math students in Spanish. But none of that had prepared me to speak the language of the Argentine high school student.

I would strain. Every understood sentence was hard-fought, but, eventually, I began to sound like my grandmother: “Vas a tener que hablar más lentamente,” I would say. “You’re going to have to speak more slowly.”

The look I would receive in return was one of skepticism. Then they would ask the inevitable question: “Are you sure there is nothing wrong with your hearing?”

By the end of seven weeks, my Argentine high school friends had learned to speak slightly more slowly, and I had learned slightly more Argentine high school Spanish.

Back in California, my parents sometimes still complain that I speak too quickly. In their presence, I have slowed down as best I can because to be understood through words and their subtleties is what sets humans apart.

Only through clear communication can I connect with others. I need to hear what people say, and I need to be heard. Whether it be in my monthly newspaper column or in daily conversation, my words can have power. Perhaps words can persuade someone to stand up for an ideal, or maybe they can find the beauty in something as mundane as an old swing set.

We all go through life seeking to understand and be understood, to speak the language of the people that surround us. And sometimes, that means slowing down our speech just a little bit.

In my American high school, I see my friend Daniel Paredes, a recent immigrant from Mexico, who is struggling to learn English. He has recently been placed into mainstream English classes, and I ask him how it is going.

“My geometry class is a nightmare,” he tells me in Spanish.

“Why is it so difficult?” I ask.

“Well, you wouldn’t understand,” Daniel says with an embarrassed tone.

“Tell me,” I say sympathetically.

“It’s just that, I know the English. I know the words she’s saying. But she says them so fast. . . .” he trails off.

I look at Daniel and smile with commiseration.

“I understand exactly what you mean.”

COMMENTARY

By tackling a flaw that the writer at first denies—speaking too fast—he describes his journey in learning to empathize. He delineates a progression from skepticism about his parents’ complaints to the realization that his family has a point, and finally to self-improvement. While he blames his family at first for not understanding him, his experience in Argentina helps him commiserate with his parents’ plight.

Ultimately, achieving empathy is the writer’s success—but he does not drive that point home nearly as well as the importance of communication itself. While he waxes philosophical about the power of words, the writer should have used more space to explain why the ability to see through his family members’ and immigrant classmate’s eyes constituted such a crucial shift.

Nonetheless, this essay accomplishes a great deal in a short amount of space. Stylistically, it benefits from fluid movement through vivid pieces of dialogue. While the essay is more of a story than an argument, it is not unfocused; every sentence contributes to its overall point. The writer’s direct prose style reinforces his message about empathy and the significance of communication.

—Bonnie Kavoussi

参考资料：50 Successful Harvard Application Essays Third Edition(pdf)