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She gave us massive insights into his character and to the life of his family at the time, as well as the local people who remembered him or his relatives, and who explained about the mining and steel culture of the area. This was on a mind-changing visit to Oxford, where Burton had spent time studying in Exeter College: the contrast with Taibach was unavoidable, as was the dignity and heritage of the city and the university. We also got to speak to the Port Talbot actor, now internationally famous, Michael Sheen, who offered us some amazing insights into the power and problems of fame.

Partner organisations Swansea University, including the Taliesin Theatre, Neath Port Talbot College Group and the Port Talbot Library Services, all pitched in to support the young people, who achieved more - much more - than they had expected. Perhaps most important of all, it allows us to look inward, and to understand our own depths and potential. The Burton diaries When my colleagues and I were invited by the Richard Burton Archives in Swansea University to use the Burton diaries, which he began aged 14 - and now lodged there by his widow Sally who wished them to be used to inspire young people - I still felt doubtful.

Engaging young people in history Once we got started, and with the exceptional drama skills of my colleague, Iona Towler Evans, it took a very short time for the young people to empathise intensely with Richard Burton, with his widow, and with the needs of the community.


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Skip Navigation. I Want To I Want to Find Research Faculty Enter the last name, specialty or keyword for your search below. Apply for Admission M. Archives - Solving the Secrets of Sight. Winter Solving the Secrets of Sight Date: February 1, Letters Letters From the Editor. Alumni Fulfilling a Promise. Having served as prefect, residential assistant, and student council advocate I will join the Student Government Association.

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Given my experiences with poverty and inequality in Vietnam, I will also my share leadership and mentorship skills to empower underprivileged children in the Baltimore vicinity through involvement with Alternative Learning Coaches. With the creation of effective, affordable, and sustainable engineering solutions, I hope to make a difference in the 21 st century. My shoulders slumped as the voice on the phone offered me camera bags instead.

I was sixteen and had just returned from an infectious diseases course at Emory University, where my final presentation was on Ebola. Within weeks, the first infected American arrived at Emory for treatment. Our country panicked, while thousands lay dying in Liberia, Guinea, and Sierra Leone, their last visions strangers in spacesuits.

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I ached for the people, especially the children, who were dying alone, and I needed to help. Ebola Kits. Rubber gloves, masks, and bleach, shrink-wrapped together inside a sturdy bucket, instructions in pictures to bridge the languages of Mende, French, Krio, Fula, and Susu. While the kits contained only the bare necessities, they would allow people to care for family and neighbors without inviting the spread of Ebola.

Doing nothing was genocide, with generations of families disappearing overnight. The images haunted me, lifeless bodies in dirt, oblivious to the flies swarming around them, as everyone watched from a safe distance.

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I was on a mission. Ebola kits in every village. Easy to assemble and ship. Potential to save thousands. I spent two weeks calling body bag suppliers after school. Treatment centers were desperate, wrapping bodies in garbage bags with duct tape and tossing them mindlessly into the ground. It was disrespectful, even inhumane, because West African burials include washing, touching, and kissing the bodies.

Without these rituals, West Africans believe the spirit of the deceased can never be at peace. Culture and medicine were colliding head-on, and there was no easy solution. While Ebola made these rituals lethal, at least body bags allowed people to be safely buried and not treated like garbage. After many failed attempts, I reached a funeral home director who donated body bags from his own supply.

Public health is one of the most pressing and complex issues we face as a global society, and it is my passion. I am disturbed that not all lives are valued equally. I cannot accept the fact that children die from preventable diseases, simply because they are born in countries with less wealth and stability. Ensuring our health is complicated and daunting and requires the mass coordination of agencies and governments to build sustainable infrastructures with local citizens in charge. I want to be part of the solution and am engaging in public health in every way I can: in the field, in the classroom, and through global health charities.

From Yonkers to Accra, I have met the most amazing people from all walks of life, and I feel a deep and stirring sense of purpose in my global health work. I am empowered and proud of my contributions, but I also experience humility at a level that transforms me. I am blessed that I have found my passion, one that combines my intellectual curiosity, determination, and my moral compass. I am optimistic for the future and the journey that lies ahead, as I do everything in my power to make basic healthcare a reality for the world.

So I wrote to create different, better manifestations of my life. I grew up dreaming and writing and thinking they were the same about being a Hermione Granger with Harry as my sidekick battling twenty Voldemorts twenty! My mom once joked that I should audition for the role of Cho Chang. I threw a chopstick at her. Cho Chang was weak, so terribly weak that Harry dumped her. I knew why she said it though—I rarely existed in books and when I did, I was the Cho Chang, the inconsequential, insignificant Asian girl who could never assert herself.

So, to improve my own story, I decided to fall in love with the first boy to call me pretty. During this magnificent, glorious streak of writing, dreaming, and pretending, I learned that 40, words make a novel. I had to do it. Once I get published, everybody would get a taste of my sublimity. Mom and Dad would be so impressed. Hence, I became fervently obsessed with word count and cared for little else. But then I turned seventeen and finally began to process what I had experienced years earlier. I had been witness to my grandpa, reduced to flesh and bones but hardly any flesh , barely clinging to life in a maggot-infested hospital in Dengzhou—something I had forced myself to forget.

I wrote about my real thoughts, my family, the times I was happy, and the times I was not. I wrote about my grandpa. What took the place of sublimity, instead, were real people. Mothers and daughters who breathe and hurt and love. I write to express the thoughts that are most real to me, ones I cannot confine any longer. Virtual Tour Mail only correspondence N. Charles St.

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Goal: 40, I wrote because it made me somebody else—somebody who mattered. I was cool. Status: 5, In a fit of spite, I killed my Hermione, realizing I could never be her. Status: 1, I was satisfied. Status: 8, Living life vicariously was comfortable and easy. Status: 11,