Trash, the Library and a Worn, Brown Table: The
2019 College Essays on Money
美國清寒高中生的大學申請信選讀
We organize the money in our wallets in units of currency, dollars and cents, bills and coins. 皮夾裡的錢，我們會按貨幣單位、美元和美分、紙幣和硬幣分類整理。
But the money in our heads is a lot harder to arrange, lost as it often is in a haze of volatile emotions, pride and shame, jubilation and despair. 但頭腦裡的錢(思緒)卻難整理得多，迷失在情緒波動、傲慢與羞恥、欣喜與 絕望之中。
Reckoning with these feelings is hard, which is why people don’t talk about them much. Writing about them is even harder. 面對這些感受是困難的，所以人們不太談論它們。要把感受寫下來就更難了。
Six years ago, I started asking high school seniors to send in any college application essay that happened to be about money, work, social class or related topics. Immediately, it was clear that there was plenty we could learn from their writing, as they and their parents prepared to make what may be the biggest financial decision of their lives: where to spend up to $300,000 on a college education. 六年前，我開始向高中畢業班學生徵求關於金錢、工作、社會階級或相關話 題的入學申請信。我很快發現，我們顯然能從他們的寫作中學到很多，這期間他 們和父母正準備做出或許是一生中最大的投資決定：多達 30 萬美元的大學教育 經費要花在哪些地方。
This year’s collection of five essays is a reminder of how rich the idea of money is for the writers who dare to tackle it. 今年的五篇短文告訴我們，對於膽敢提筆去寫的作者，金錢這個話題可以多 麼豐富。
A plumber’s daughter and a young man fascinated with garbage trucks take on jobs that few of their peers would want. A dish washer rides home in the middle of the school night, flashcards in hand. A family gets smaller set against the tableau of its aging furniture. And a Minnesota teenager finds her way, over many years, to a new role in an old place of refuge. 一名管道工的女兒和一個著迷於垃圾車的小夥子做著沒幾個同年齡的人想從 事的工作。一個洗碗工放學後半夜搭車回家，手裡拿著學習卡片。在日漸老化的 家具構成的環境中，一個家庭變得越來越小。多年來，明尼蘇達的一個少女在一 處舊避難所，為自己找到一個新的角色。
‘I got the usual looks from people fresh out of bars or parties, either because of the stench of a hard night’s work on my clothes or because I was muttering to myself while feverishly flipping flashcards.’
—Mark Isai Garcia 「剛出酒吧或參加完派對的人朝我投以習以為常的目光，要不是因為辛苦工 作一整晚後，我的衣服上散發著惡臭，不然就是我一邊瘋狂翻動學習卡片，一邊 低聲自言自語。」 ——馬克·以賽·賈西亞(Mark Isai Garcia)
“No more broken plates, you understand?” 「不能再打破盤子了，懂嗎？」
I could make little sense of the broken English that spat from his mouth but his scrunched-up face spoke a universal language. It was a Friday night in Little Tokyo, and while families were eating five-star meals in the front dining room, a 14-year-old boy was in the back washing their dishes.
他嘴裡嘟噥的含糊英語我聽不大明白，但他緊皺的臉孔是通用的語言。那是 在小東京(Little Tokyo)一個週五晚上，外面的餐廳裡，不同家庭享用著五星級大 餐時，後場裡的一個 14 歲男孩正在清洗他們的盤子。
Wash the plates by hand, dump them into the sanitizer, place the plates into the machine, dry the plates off, return the plates to their designated spot and repeat — hopefully without damaging any. On this night though, a porcelain plate slipped through my soapy fingers and shattered onto the floor in five pieces. My face flushed even as I tried to keep my composure, but inside I was screaming, “Why me!?” as if my scream would make the plate whole again. 先用手洗盤子，再把它們浸泡到洗潔劑裡，接著又把盤子放入機器、烘乾， 然後放到指定位置，接著再來——但願別打破其中任何一個。但這天晚上，一枚 瓷盤從我沾滿肥皂的手指間滑了出去，掉到地上摔成了五個碎片。我竭力保持冷 靜，滿臉漲紅，心裡在尖叫，「為什麼是我！？」好似尖叫會讓盤子恢復原狀。
The shattered plate was only one of the many worries fighting relentlessly inside my head for attention — there was the Advanced Placement United States history midterm, a low grade in calculus, the eviction notice, a little brother getting into trouble and a dozen other smaller but pressing concerns. 破碎的盤子只是我頭腦裡不住按耐著的許多憂心事中的一件——先修課程 (Advanced Placement)美國歷史要期中考，微積分成績太低，收到住房清退通知， 弟弟惹上了麻煩，還有十來件相對瑣碎但也很緊迫的掛心事。
For me, there was no calling in sick to clear my head, getting some much needed rest or carving out study time before an upcoming exam. I had to contribute to the necessities. I shut up, got back to work and pushed with all the energy I had left. I knew all too well the symptoms of bottling up my emotions — the bitter taste of salt in each drop of sweat, losing myself in the background music and the muscle aches were nothing new to me. 對我而言，沒有打電話請病假整理下思緒的空間，也沒辦法給自己一些急需 的休息，或是在考試前騰出些時間學習。我得貼補家用。我閉上嘴，繼續工作， 用盡渾身所剩的所有力氣。我深知壓抑情緒之苦——每滴汗水既鹹又苦的味道， 忘我地沉浸在背景音樂裡，肌肉疼痛是家常便飯。
It was 12 a.m. when my shift finally ended. I boarded the bus home and took out my notes to study. I got the usual looks from people fresh out of bars or parties, either because of the stench of a hard night’s work on my clothes or because I was muttering to myself while feverishly flipping flashcards on a bus in the middle of the night. 晚班終於結束時，已經是半夜 12 點了。我搭上了回家的公車，掏出筆記開始 學習。剛出酒吧或參加完派對的人朝我投以習以為常的目光，要不是因為辛苦工 作一整晚後，我的衣服上散發著惡臭，不然就是我一邊瘋狂翻動學習卡片，一邊 低聲自言自語。
Their stares didn’t bother me at all. I was used to those too, and they were nothing more than another set of speed bumps in the way of achieving my goals. I was tired of seeing childhood friends flashing gang signs, relatives glued to the beer bottle or my dad coming home late at night with burn scars from work. Something had to change and I knew it fell to me to initiate that change. 我完全不介意他們的凝視。這些我也都習慣了，不過是我實現目標之路上的 另一組減速丘而已。我厭倦了愛秀黑幫手勢的童年朋友，啤酒不離手的親戚，或 爸爸帶著做工留下的燒傷疤痕深夜回家。必須做出點改變，而我知道，這種改變 需要由我開始。
Fortunately, I also knew I had dedication, desire and grit in my blood. My grandfather was part of the first wave of Mexican immigrants that settled in Los Angeles. He returned home to a small village in rural Oaxaca, with his savings and tales of the land of opportunity. 幸運的是，我也知道我骨子裡有奉獻、渴望和毅力。祖父是第一波在洛杉磯 定居的墨西哥移民。他後來回了瓦哈卡州鄉下小村子裡的家，帶著積蓄和這個機 遇之邦的傳說。
Both of my parents left Oaxaca in their early teenage years and began working long hours in Los Angeles, as a cook and a maid. The work ethic was passed down generations; from the cornfields in Oaxaca, to the restaurants in Los Angeles, to the classroom, which helped me thrive both in school and work. 父母十來歲便離開瓦哈卡州，開始在洛杉磯沒日沒夜地工作，做廚師和女僕。 從瓦哈卡州的玉米田到洛杉磯的餐館再到教室，這種工作倫理代代相傳，讓我得 以在學業和工作振奮向前。
On this particular night, as I walked through the front door at home, I saw an uplifting surprise: My mother had fallen asleep waiting up for me despite her own long day. I tucked the cash tips I made that night into her purse and turned off the TV. 就在這個晚上，我走進家門，無意間看到了一個讓我欣慰的意外：辛勞了一 整天的母親在等我回家時睡著了。我把當晚拿到的小費塞到她的皮夾裡，關掉了 電視。
I peered into our bedroom where my brothers and cousins were lost in their blissful dreams. Watching my siblings snore and breathe slowly sparked a yawn that cued the rest of my body’s delayed exhaustion. However, it would be a while before I could join them in sleep. I had an essay due early the next morning, and Ms. DePaolo doesn’t accept late work. 我凝視著卧室裡進入甜美夢鄉的兄弟姐妹。看到他們輕輕打鼾、緩緩呼吸的 樣子，我禁不住打了個哈欠，這才發現自己已經筋疲力竭。可是，我要過會才能 和他們一道休息。我還有篇作文明早要交，德保羅老師可不接受不按時交作業。
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