世界在我眼前，我选择认真看

那是2023年3月25日，我十五岁，第一次踏进赫德。

当整座校园的轮廓在我眼前铺展开来时，第一个让我停住目光的，不是教学楼，也不是操场，而是主楼旁边那几株玉兰树。

2023年的玉兰树

它们正开着花。白的、红的，一簇一簇，在窗口外挤挤挨挨，开得不管不顾。

当时我们2023届所有新生都被安排在D109教室听讲座，我坐在靠窗的位置，耳朵听着台上的声音，眼睛却不自觉地飘了出去。我在想那些玉兰的颜色，如果现在跑出去拍一张照片，应该用什么样的角度才能留住它们此刻的样子。

就在我出神的时候，一群小孩子从树下跑过去了。他们笑闹着，穿得花花绿绿，有人头上别着亮晶晶的饰品，有人扎了奇奇怪怪的辫子，还有人干脆在校服上画满了涂鸦。那个画面像一颗石子投进我心里，我说不清那股冲击是什么，只觉得有什么东西在那一刻悄悄松动了。

2024年玉兰树下的Gloria

于是我收回视线，去看教室里的人。我注意到台上的老师们——他们脸上都挂着一种很亲人的笑，不是那种隔着讲台的距离感，而是像对着朋友一样，平等地、温和地笑着。那一刻，我心里忽然升起一种很明确的预感：

接下来的日子，

会和我之前所知道的，

不太一样了。

那场宣讲会上，很多老师都提到了一个词：专业。他们说，选对专业很重要，让我们回去好好想想，自己到底喜欢什么，擅长什么。

我那时候已经知道自己是个喜欢观察的人。我喜欢看人，看他们说话的方式、眼神的温度、情绪的起落。

进行小组讨论

我想弄清楚：人为什么会有不同的想法？为什么有些人会得抑郁症，有些人的念头会走向极端？但那时候，我连这些问题属于哪个学科都不知道，像一个站在巨大迷宫入口的人，手里没有地图。

于是我开始自己找路。我去找升学指导老师，要来所有文社学科的简介，又把各大名校的课程大纲翻了一遍。我像拼图一样，一点一点地把那些模糊的想法往具体的方向上靠。最开始是一片混沌，后来慢慢清晰——心理学、教育学、社会学、人类学，这几门学科像几盏灯，在我面前依次亮起来。

第一次在剑桥探校营演讲

进入第二个学期之前，我已经把范围缩小到了三个专业。

周围的人有点惊讶，觉得我做决定太快了。但我心里并不慌，因为我知道自己不是凭冲动选的。

我在Education、Psychology、Sociology之间来回摇摆了很长一段时间，最后让我定下来的，是一个具体的问题：家庭因素和生物因素，是怎样影响一个人患上精神类疾病的概率的——比如精神分裂症，比如抑郁症。

这个问题，恰好落在教育心理学的坐标系里。那是一门交叉学科，完美地把我所有的好奇心都装了进去。

第一次写论文，抓不住重点，全篇修改时期

所以十年级的时候，我就确定了自己的专业方向。

后来回头看，这个决定是我整个申请季最大的优势。我不再迷茫，也不再像无头苍蝇一样到处乱撞。

确认方向后，我挑选活动只看一个标准：它是否对我探索教育心理学这个领域有帮助。John Locke、EPQ——这两项和专业高度契合的写作竞赛，占据了我文书的主要部分。

去年写文书的时候，进展快得超出预期，十一月中旬就定稿了，月底提交UCAS，十二月中收到UCL的Offer。

我是我们这一届第一个拿到UCL的人。

最好的新年礼物

但如果说这些就是我在赫德全部的故事，那一定是不完整的。对我影响更深的，其实是那些活生生的人。

可能是因为我习惯了观察一切，所以我也不会放过身边的人。我的朋友们，他们才是改变我最大的人。

毕业舞会结束前，让我们再拍一张合影

我喜欢剖析每个人的行为和心理，试着去理解他们的成长环境和教育背景，然后反过来“再教育”自己——把那些好的特质吸收进来，让自己一点一点变得更完整。我享受这个过程，它让我感觉到一种踏实的幸福感。好像每一天，我都在朝着一个更好的版本前进。

有一个朋友，我和他相处最久，共事的时间也最长。我们是因为一个公益社团的提议才熟络起来的——他说想创办一个叫SAST的社团。

SAST社团第一次公益百人课堂

因为那个契机，我们开始频繁地接触。我下意识的，开始观察他。他的言谈举止，他的思维模式，他面对不同人、不同情境时的反应。

然后我发现了一件事：他永远是温柔的。总是笑着的，不疾不徐的。无论周围的环境多么嘈杂，或者事情多么棘手，他始终带着那种温文尔雅、处变不惊的气质。这让我忍不住好奇——到底是怎样的成长经历，才能塑造出这样一个人？

SAST社团的创始人集合

后来我们深聊过很多次，聊观念，聊理想，聊各自走过的路。我终于慢慢理解了他性格形成的脉络。而更重要的，是我开始思考：这种待人接物的方式，其实可以在生活中规避很多冲突，减少很多不必要的消耗。于是我开始试着改变自己，让他的那种温柔，一点一点地渗透进我的言行里。

现在回想起来，三年前的我，远没有现在这样平和。而今天的我，确实已经学会用更温和的方式去解决问题、去和人相处了。我从他身上学到的那一课，我一直记在心里——温柔是一种极其强大的力量，强大到足以改变一个人的形状。

许吉如老师来学校演讲时给我的to签，

也希望你们学业有成。

That was March 25, 2023. I was fifteen, and it was my first time setting foot in HDBJ.

When the full contour of the campus unfolded before me, the first thing that stopped my gaze was not the teaching buildings or the sports field, but the magnolia trees beside the main building.

The magnolia trees in 2023

They were in full bloom. White and pink, clustered in dense bunches, jostling outside the windows—blooming as if they had no care in the world.

All of us new intake of 2023 were assigned to Classroom D109 for an orientation lecture. I sat by the window, my ears listening to the voices on stage, but my eyes kept drifting outside. I found myself thinking about the colours of those magnolias—if I ran out right now to take a photo, what angle would capture them at this very moment?

Just as I was lost in thought, a group of little kids ran past the trees. They were laughing and playing, dressed in all sorts of bright colours—some with sparkling accessories pinned to their hair, others with wild braids, and a few who had simply covered their school uniforms with doodles. That scene hit me like a stone dropped into a pond. I couldn't quite name the feeling, but something inside me had quietly loosened in that moment.

Gloria under the magnolia trees in 2024

So I drew my gaze back and looked at the people in the room. I noticed the teachers on stage—they all wore warm, approachable smiles, not the kind of distant formality that comes with a lectern, but the kind you give a friend: equal, gentle. At that moment, a clear premonition rose in my heart:

The days ahead would be different from anything I had known before.

During that orientation, many teachers mentioned one word: major. They said choosing the right major was crucial, and told us to go back and think carefully about what we truly liked and what we were good at.

By then, I already knew I was someone who liked to observe. I liked watching people—the way they spoke, the warmth in their eyes, the rise and fall of their emotions.

During a group discussion

I wanted to understand: Why do people think differently? Why do some suffer from depression, and why do some minds veer toward extremes? But back then, I didn't even know which academic field these questions belonged to. I felt like someone standing at the entrance of a vast maze without a map.

So I started finding my own way. I went to my college counsellor and asked for the introductory brochures for all the humanities and social sciences. I combed through the course syllabi of top universities. Like putting together a jigsaw puzzle, I slowly nudged those vague ideas toward something concrete. At first, it was all chaos—then gradually, things became clearer. Psychology, Education, Sociology, Anthropology—these disciplines lit up like lamps before me, one after another.

My first speech at the Cambridge exploration camp

Before my second semester began, I had already narrowed my options down to three majors.

People around me were a little surprised, thinking I had decided too quickly. But I wasn't panicked inside, because I knew I hadn't chosen on impulse.

I wavered between Education, Psychology, and Sociology for quite a long time. What finally settled it was a specific question: How do family factors and biological factors jointly affect a person's probability of developing mental disorders—such as schizophrenia or depression?

That question fell perfectly within the framework of Educational Psychology—an interdisciplinary field that held all my curiosities.

Writing my first essay, struggling to 

find the main point, revising the entire draft

So in G10, I had already confirmed my academic direction.

Looking back, that decision became my biggest advantage throughout the entire application season. I was no longer lost, no longer bumping around blindly.

Once my direction was set, I evaluated every extracurricular activity against a single criterion: Does it help me explore the field of Educational Psychology? John Locke, EPQ—these two writing competitions, closely aligned with my major, formed the backbone of my personal statement.

When I wrote my essay last year, progress was faster than I'd expected. I had the first draft ready by mid-November, submitted to UCAS at the end of the month, and received my offer from UCL in mid-December.

I was the first in my cohort to get into UCL.

The best New Year's gift

But if I said that's the whole story of my time at HDBJ, it would be incomplete. What influenced me even more were the living, breathing people around me.

Perhaps because I'm so used to observing everything, I never stopped watching the people close to me either. My friends—they are the ones who changed me the most.

One last group photo before the prom ended

I enjoy dissecting everyone's behaviour and psychology, trying to understand their upbringing and educational background, and then using that to "re-educate" myself—absorbing their good qualities and making myself a little more whole. I relish this process; it gives me a grounded sense of happiness. As if every day, I'm moving toward a better version of myself.

One friend in particular—I've spent the most time with him, and we've worked together the longest. We got to know each other through a proposal for a public-service club. He said he wanted to start a club called SAST.

SAST's first public-benefit class of 100 students

Because of that, we began to interact frequently. Instinctively, I started observing him—his mannerisms, his way of thinking, his reactions to different people and situations.

Then I noticed something: he was always gentle. Always smiling, unhurried. No matter how noisy the surroundings or how tricky the problem, he carried that temperate, unflappable poise. It made me curious—what kind of upbringing could shape such a person?

The founders of SAST together

Later, we had many deep conversations—about beliefs, ideals, the paths we'd walked. I finally came to understand the contours of his character. More importantly, I began to reflect: this way of treating others can actually avoid a lot of conflict in daily life and reduce unnecessary friction. So I started trying to change myself, letting his gentleness seep into my words and actions, little by little.

Now, looking back, the person I was three years ago was far less composed than I am today. And today, I have indeed learned to solve problems and interact with people in a milder way. That lesson I learned from him stays with me—gentleness is an immensely powerful force, powerful enough to reshape a person.

So, if I were to say something to the next cohort of students, it would probably be this.

Academically: research early, decide your direction early, prepare early. It's okay to feel lost, but if you stay lost too long, you'll miss many things you could have grasped. Read more, look more, ask more. Turn those fuzzy notions into concrete questions, and those concrete questions into a path you can walk.

And in life: look closely at the people around you. Observe their strengths—those shining qualities—and reflect them onto yourself. Ask: Can I become that too? This is the lowest-cost way to learn. Your teachers are everywhere—anyone can give you a vivid and enriching lesson.

Ms. Xu Jiru's signed note to me after her speech 

at school—may you also succeed in your studies.

There's a concept in psychology called the ideal self—the traits you admire in others are often exactly what you most deeply desire to become.

So: observe, reflect, and think.

Then go do it.

You will eventually become the person you want to be.