3年的钢琴演奏经历，倾注毕生的谱曲生涯。即使获得无数的奖杯和掌声，也无法超越谱写一首名曲的时间。人们常常给我打上 “优秀”“积极向上”“意志力坚定”等标签，但我并不这么看：没人知道我是如何在大庭广众之下演奏的？没人知道我是如何在众人的期许中日复一日生活的？没人知道未来的我将去向何方？做些什么？而最后一条也是最重要的。
当弹奏C大调乐符时，我才意识到自己未曾碰触过钢琴上黑色的键盘。我努力的想要尽一切努力在弹奏过程中配上黑色键盘那听起来不太协调的、耐人寻味的音色。尽管这是我的初衷，但我依然没办法理解的是：为什么辅键（黑色键盘）要退居幕后，隐藏在主键（白色键盘）跳跃的间隙中。为什么白色键盘就那么重要？那么引人关注？我想要扭转这一切，我想要倾听黑色键盘发出的奇妙音色。
我有着一双湖水般的眼睛，比正统白人还要白的皮肤，但是，在我骨子里流的却是黑人的血液。我的祖母是白种人，但父母皆是黑人。这样的出身背景常常会让我有一种莫名的紧张感，就像钢上琴紧绷的弦一样，无论黑色键盘与白色键盘多么的不和谐，我还是会有意无意的去接触它，所谓常在河边走，哪能不湿鞋？当我演奏的时候，它会一遍遍的勾起我的记忆；虽然表面上我和白人没有什么两样，但我得基因成分里大部分是以黑色为主，这是不容改变的事实。
纵观我的一生，从基因中就能反映出文化背景。我成长在新泽西州的威林博勒，一个黑人聚居地带。邻居向我描述种族隔离的那段历史时，我回想起了儿时在平地上打篮球的场景，好像昨天才发生过似的，这构成了我生活的一部分。当我被迫进入白人群体的教会学校上学时，我了解到了自己的另一面：只有别人能够看到，自己却无法感知的一面。学校和家庭的融合谱写出了一曲最美妙的歌曲。而这首美妙的歌曲只有搭配着“黑色键盘”的音色才能达到完美无缺的效果。
对于任何一位钢琴家而言，最成功的音乐无疑是黑白键的完美组合。不管是美国社会还是普通人类，缺少另一组键盘的配合，都是失败的。黑色键盘给人的感觉不是讨厌的、不协调的，相反，是丰富的、感情充沛的并且夹杂着某种复杂的感觉。缺少任何一组，都无法演奏出最动听的声音。
所以，无论生活要带我去向何方，我都时刻为此准备着。我还是那个优秀的、积极向上的、意志力坚决的、不太确定的我。带着这样的心态，我在演奏的时候甚至感觉不到小锤敲击钢琴内部电线的声音。我要像最成功的谱曲家那样，一直努力向前，前方是什么无所谓，只要坚持不懈的写下去，就一定能谱出成功的乐曲。
ESSAY赏析
在这篇ESSAY里，作者引用钢琴上的黑白键暗指了自己是个混血儿。最开始，作者用比喻就热爱音乐和自身“隐性”黑人基因之间塑造了一种耐人寻味的排比。黑色辅键隐藏在幕后，隐藏在白色主键的夹缝中，就像作者本身的黑色血统隐藏在白色皮肤和白色群体当中。比喻的引用是起到突出强调的作用，但应该就此打住最佳。
他的故事很耐人寻味：他身体里3/4是黑人血统，却常被人们误以为白人。他在白人教会学校上课却生活在黑人家庭里，从小成长生活的环境也是以黑人为主，实在是很好玩。但是，作者只是将它们穿插在描写对音乐的热爱之间。即使没有钢琴隐喻这个“拐杖”，就作者本身的成长经历足矣令人信服。他成长过程中的黑人身份的质疑与挣扎足矣从大叠的ESSAY里脱颖而出。
文中唯一的不足就是比喻修辞手法运用的太多，有点儿画蛇添足。文章开头他写了钢琴本身的矛盾点以及自己对乐器的热爱，那么，接下来应该转而更多的集中于对于幼年时代的矛盾描写。这篇ESSAY是一个典型的越烧越好（暗喻）。作者应该集中笔墨写出自己经历的真情实感以及自我人物发掘而不是引用过多的修辞。
—Laura Mirviss
参考原文
(23)STEVEN ROACH—“CONCERTO IN C MINOR”
I am a piano player of three years, but a composer of my life. Amassing numerous piano awards and receiving applause after a performance cannot equal the time spent composing the masterpiece of life. “Dedicated,” “driven,” “determined” are words that some would use to describe me, but never “uncertain.” Uncertain of how I will play in front of an audience. Uncertain that I will ever live up to the expectations that others set for me. But most of all, uncertain of where my life will lead me.
As my fingers glide up the C major scale while playing the piano, I realize that my fingers remain on the white keys and never give the black keys a chance to voice their tune. I try to add one of the black keys to the scale, and cringe at the dissonant, frightful, yet intriguing sound it causes. Despite my initial reaction, I still cannot fully understand why the major keys get to be played while the minor keys are relegated to the background, hidden between and behind the white keys. I want to know why the white keys get all of the attention. I want to know the reason for assigning the white keys as major keys. I want to play the black keys.
I have green eyes, and my skin is whiter than that of some Caucasian people, but I still cannot forget my African-American roots. One of my grandmothers is white, but both of my parents are black. Even when the tension of being black gets as tight as one of the taut wires in the piano, I cannot forget the minor parts of my keyboard, no matter how conflicting they may be with the white keys. Even though my skin may resemble that of a white person, my phenotype remembers its genotype when I play the piano: The major part of me is black while the minor part of me is white.
Throughout my life, the blend in my genes has reflected the blends of culture in my life. Growing up in Willingboro, New Jersey, a predominantly black neighborhood, I embraced the black parts of me. From the history of segregation that the neighbors’ stories depicted to my own memories of the kids playing basketball on the courts, I came to experience a part of my culture. Thrown into a discordant community at my Episcopal school in a mainly white neighborhood, I learned about the other side of me, the side that everyone could see, but that I could not feel. The blend in my school and home life has composed the best song, a song that needs those black keys to form the right tune.
The best musical pieces, as any pianist can attest, mix a combination of the black and white keys to produce harmonic tones. American society, and humanity in general, cannot play one part of itself while ignoring the other key parts. The black keys do not produce sounds of fright and dissonance whenever played, but a sonorous sound of richness, emotion, and complexity. Without each complement, both black and white keys would be left separated, never being able to harmonize and produce the best tune for the world to hear.
Wherever life takes me, I’m ready. I am dedicated, driven, determined, and even uncertain. My spirit no longer feels the weight of the piano’s tiny hammers knocking as they vibrate the wires of the inner piano. Just like the best composers, I continue to push forward, not knowing what lies ahead, but understanding that if I keep writing the piece, it will end on the right note.
COMMENTARY
In this essay, the writer suggests that the black and white keys of a piano provide insight into his own mixed heritage. At first, the analogy creates an intriguing parallel between the writer’s fervor for music composition and his desire to reclaim his sometimes eclipsed African-American heritage. “[M]inor keys are relegated to the background, hidden between and behind the white keys,” just as his African-American heritage is pushed aside both in his physical appearance and in his parochial school. The analogy remains compelling up to this point. But it should have ended there.
This applicant has a fascinating story to tell. He is three-quarters African-American but can easily be mistaken for white. He attended school in a white neighborhood but lived in an African-American one, adding an extra dimension to his mixed upbringing. But the author only touches on these subjects, mentioning them in the context of his passion for the piano. His upbringing is itself sufficiently compelling to stand without the crutch of the piano metaphor. Throwing in some telling anecdotes about instances when he questioned or struggled with his racial identity would have propelled this essay from solid to outstanding.
A point of weakness is the analogy itself that the writer relies upon heavily. The comparison has initial utility but ultimately stymies some of the excellent writing and imagery in this piece. By confining the piano analogy and establishing his passion for the instrument in the beginning paragraphs, he would have left himself space later in the essay to delve deeper and explore the many facets of the internal conflict he faced in his youth. In short, the old standby of “less is more” rings especially true in this case, particularly when one is working with metaphors. The author could have drawn far more capital from his experiences by moving beyond the limitations of the metaphor and making room for greater self-exploration.
—Laura Mirviss
