1 . When Emanuel received an email from Professor Richard English at Queen’s University, who encouraged him to apply for a PhD in Politics in Belfast, it was a pinch-me moment Emanuel never thought would be possible. After all, just a few short years ago, he was living on the streets, couch-surfing at friends’ houses and weeding gardens to make ends meet. Now, one of the world’s leading political academics was preparing to welcome him to Queen’s University over 4,000 miles away.

Emanuel never knew who his father was and his mom was mentally ill when she gave birth to him, so the hospital took him off her and he was unofficially adopted for the first few years of his life. What followed was a childhood with uncertainty as Emanuel was passed between the adoption system and family members.

Through his high school and community college years, he moved from house to house, living with friends at times and living on the streets at others.

Determined to change all that despite his rocky start in life, Emanuel involved himself in school — doing everything he could to earn extra tuition (学费) money in his spare time. But getting accepted into university was scarcely possible because a person like him couldn’t get a regular student loan.

Fortunately, the government backed him, having created a policy allowing disadvantaged persons to access funding for higher education. He graduated from the University of the West Indies with a 1st Class Honors degree and went on to do his Masters.

Emanuel knows that his story could have been very different.

“I discovered Professor Richard English online and sent him an email honestly, not thinking he would reply and to my surprise, he did. I applied for the highly competitive Commonwealth Shared Scholarship Scheme in order to fund my research at Queen’s. When I was told I was successful, my whole world changed.”

2 . On the way to his home the child turned many times and beat the dog, declaring with childish gestures that he held him in contempt as an unimportant dog. The dog apologized for being this quality of animal and expressed regret in fine form, but he continued stealthily to follow the child.

When the child reached his door-step, the dog was a few yards behind, moving slowly toward him. He became so anxious with shame when he again faced the child that he forgot the dragging rope. He tripped (绊倒) upon it and fell forward.

The child sat down on the step and the two had another interview. During it the dog greatly exerted himself to please the child. He performed a few playful jumps with such abandon (尽情地) that the child suddenly saw him to be a valuable thing. He made a swift, greedy charge (猛冲) and seized the rope.

He dragged his captive (俘虏) into a hall and up many long stairways in a dark building. The dog made willing efforts but he could not walk very skillfully up the stairs because he was very small and soft, and at last the pace of the child grew so energetic that the dog became panic-stricken. In his mind he was being dragged toward somewhere unknown. His eyes grew wild with the terror of it. He began to wiggle his head wildly and to brace his legs.

The child redoubled his efforts.They had a battle on the stairs.The child was victorious because he was completely absorbed in his purpose, and because the dog was very small. He dragged his acquirement to the door of his home, and finally with victory across the doorway.

No family member was in.The child sat down on the floor and made overtures to (向……示好) the dog. The dog instantly accepted. He smiled with affection upon his new friend. In a short time they were firm and abiding (矢志不渝的) comrades.

3 . It was the final day of our holiday: I’d gone snowboarding with my little brother and what we lacked in skill we made up for in enthusiasm, catching the first ski lift in the morning and the last lift in the afternoon. That day, we were in high spirits. We stopped near the top of an off-piste section (非滑雪场区域) that went through forests. I’d done this route a few times before and, as I was faster and more experienced, I let my brother disappear into the trees ahead, figuring I would soon catch up.

I began to pick up speed when I was suddenly thrown off balance. I didn’t fall but I lost control of the board. I was unable to turn, instead going in a straight line, gathering speed. Just as I was regaining control, I crashed into the trunk of a large tree.

It was like hitting a concrete pillar (柱子). I didn’t lose consciousness but the pain was felt instantly and overwhelming. I knew pretty much immediately that my back was broken and quickly realised the situation could get very serious. I tried to stand but collapsed and almost blacked out with pain before I got halfway up.

Walking was not an option. Crawling was too slow and painful. I had another idea: I managed to get the board unattached to my feet and moved it under my stomach so I was lying on it. I faced down the mountain and, using the board as a luge (小雪橇), I started to drag and slide my body down the steep, tree-lined slope. I used my arms to stop myself sliding out of control. I descended at a slow jogging pace, trying to slow myself as much as possible.

Eventually, I managed to slide myself on to a cross-country ski path and was given first aid before a helicopter took me to hospital. The recovery road was tough, but months later, I was back doing what I love most.

5 . Before my daughter, Evelyn, was born, I eagerly expected her first year of life. I imagined celebrating every milestone—bonding with her as a newborn, seeing her smile for the first time, hearing her say her first word. I didn’t think of feeding tubes, long hospital stays or an organ transplant(移植). For Evelyn, the first year included all and more.

Evelyn came into this world at just 34 weeks, weighing less than 3 pounds. Genetic testing revealed she had Alagille syndrome, a genetic disorder that can damage the liver, heart and other organs. Soon, we received the news that baby Evelyn needed a liver transplant. Our family moved nearer to UPMC Children’s Hospital of Pittsburgh so that we were closer if a liver was available for Evelyn.

When Evelyn was added to the organ donation wait list, it was under the liver allocation(分配) policy in place at that time, which was map-based. This policy lacks any special consideration for transplant candidates. We were told it would likely take three months. Just then, a new policy for liver allocation was tried out. Under the new system, the sickest child patients get first priority. The new policy was only in effect for a little over a week. But in that period, Evelyn received her liver transplant. Had it been just one week earlier or later, we would not have received the call.

As Evelyn recovers from her transplant, we are grateful for the change. I am also sad, because the new policy was short-lived. That means another mom like me might not receive that phone call with good news.

Other children should have the same opportunity as Evelyn to live healthy, happy lives. When it comes to liver transplant policy, we can and must do better for children.

6 . I had just delivered a memorable speech, and I was about to learn how the judges decided my performance. The audience leaned forward and a period of silence fell across the room. I felt the drum rolled in my heart.

The third-place winner was announced. The name was not mine. Then the second-place winner, still not me. At last, the moment of truth came. I was about to either enjoy the warmth of victory or regret the months’ preparation. My heart felt closer to the latter.

Losing is a part of life, and I have dealt with it on more than one occasion. However, it was an indescribable feeling to drive a 200-mile round trip, get up very early on a freezing Saturday morning, and yet still finish fourth out of four competitors in my group. After Lincoln lost the 1858 Illinois Senate race, he said, “I felt like the 12-year-old boy who kicked his toe. I was too big to cry and it hurt too bad to laugh.” Oh yeah, I could relate.

I had spent many hours in front of a computer and in libraries doing research for the Lincoln Bicentennial Speech Contest. After not placing in the first year of the contest, I really wanted to compete again. Lincoln had many failures, but he never allowed them to defeat his spirit or ambition, so I was not going to give up on a second contest! I reworked my speech for the following year, but again I did not place.

I couldn’t accept the fact that I failed twice in something that I had worked so hard on, until I thought about my hero. Never mind the lost prize money and praise—through learning stories about Lincoln, I discovered that I can fail successfully.

8 . I know what courage looks like. I saw it on a flight I took six years ago, and only now can I speak of it without tears filling my eyes at the memory.

Our flight left the Orlando Airport one Friday morning. But immediately upon the take-off, it was clear that something was wrong. The aircraft was bumping (颠簸) up and down. All the experienced travellers, including me, looked around with knowing (会意的) smiles. If you fly much, you see these things and learn to act calmly about them. However, we did not remain calm for long.

Minutes after we were in the air, our plane began falling quickly. The pilot soon made a serious announcement. “We are having some difficulties,” he said. “Our indicators show that the control system has failed. We will be returning to the Orlando Airport. The flight attendants will prepare you for a bumpy landing. Also, if you look out of the windows, you will see that we are dumping (倾倒) fuel from the airplane. We want to have as little on board as possible in the event of a rough touchdown.” In other words, we were about to crash. Many travellers looked visibly frightened now. No one faces death without fear, I thought.

Then a couple of rows to my left, I heard a still calm voice, a woman’s voice, speaking in an absolutely normal conversational tone. I had to find the source of this voice. All around, people cried. Many screamed. Finally, I saw her. In this state of complete confusion and lack of order, a mother was talking to her child. The woman, in her mid-30s, was staring full into the face of her daughter, who looked to be four years old. The child listened closely, sensing the importance of her mother’s words. The mother’s eye held the child so fixed that she seemed untouched by the sounds of grief and fear around her.

Finally, I leaned over and could hear this soft sure voice with the tone of comfort. Over and over again, the mother said, “I love you so much. Remember, no matter what happens, I love you always.” Fortunately, our landing gear (起落架) held at last and our touchdown was not a tragedy.

However, the voice I heard that day never faded. That mom showed me what a real hero looks like.