During my early twenties, to make my parents stop feeling angry, and simply to escape, I decided to live in my birthplace for a period of time, something I'd sworn I would never do. My parents were thrilled. They prayed that I'd come back triumphantly with a picture－perfect bridegroom. That was the furthest thing from my mind as I packed my faded jeans, tank tops, boots, and a photo of my freckle－faced then－boyfriend who was of Scottish descent.

    The moment I landed in Seoul, I was aware of how much I felt like a misfit. All my life I had tried to blend into the dominant culture and couldn't. And finally, when I was in a place where everyone looked like me, I still stood out. I took it for granted that I'd feel a sense of freedom. I thought I'd blend into the landscape. This was not the case. People stared at me with curious eyes. I became conscious of my American－girl swaggering body movements and inappropriate dress.

    Collecting my courage, I traveled to the demilitarized zone on my own. I touched the high barbed－wire fence that stretched across the belly of the peninsula(半岛), dividing Korea in half. I visited thousand－year－old temples and magnificent palace gates that had survived modernization and centuries of battle. I met with distant cousins who welcomed me with outstretched arms into their homes and related heroic tales about my mother and Halmoni (Grandmother) during the war. How Halmoni had led her young children out of north to the United Nation－backed south. How my mother, at the age of thirteen, saved the life of her baby sister.

    I listened with such an overwhelming thirst that when I returned to the States a year and a half later, I began to ask my parents and Halmoni (who had immigrated to the States some time after we did) all about the past. The past was no longer a time gone by, a dead weight. I now saw that it held ancient treasures. And the more I dug and discovered, the more I felt myself being steered toward a future I had never imagined for myself. I began to write. I didn't even know I could write. My family helped me knit stories into a book using Halmoni's voice. As her powerful words moved through me I was able to reflect and meditate on the ridiculous life I had fashioned for myself. I could feel my sense of self rising. This sparked a newfound awareness and excitement. I became a spokeswoman on Korean culture, traveling to various college campuses across the country. “Be proud. Embrace your heritage.” I said to young Korean American students wearing extra－large, trendy sportswear. But the whole time I was lecturing, I had very little understanding of what that self－concept meant. I was merely talking the talk. I hadn't yet fully embraced my own identity.

    THE WEEK IN READING: THE BEST NEW BOOK RELEASES FOR APRIL, 2017

    It was the men's skating finals of the Winter Olympics when I was 16. Someday I'd be in the Olympics. In fact, it was my dream.

    That night I lay on our living room floor excitedly watching the battle between the Brians: American Brian Boitano facing Brian Orser in Canada. Both of them had been world champions. Both of them deserved to win. Naturally I was for Brian Boitano, a northern Californian like me. We had skated on the same ice. I held my breath in amazement. Boitano performed successfully. The gold medal! I jumped in the air when his score went up.

    But what happened next is what I'll never forget. Brian Boitano sat in front of the camera with his coach, surrounded by a group of journalist. He was talking about his career and his medal, talking to the whole world. A terrible sinking feeling went through me. I could never be in the Olympics, I thought…I could not talk in public like that. Just the idea of a press conference terrified me.

    I loved skating partly because I didn't have to talk. I could express myself with my jump sand dances better. I didn't have to stand up and give a speech like some teachers expected. I could feel the blood rush to my face if I thought a teacher was going to call me. I stared at my shoes. I was sure I'd make a fool of myself.

    The next day I was at the rink (溜冰场) as usual. I was practising a combination of jumps that had once seemed impossible. I worked very hard the next few years—on the ice and especially off. After journalists talked to me and although my heart pounded every time I spoke to them, I got to know them. They became familiar faces. And they got to know me. So when my big moment came four years after Brian's, I was ready.

    Sometimes I think my biggest accomplishment was not winning the gold but talking to the press afterwards. When you do the thing you fear most, you put an end to fear.

    Fear can stop you dead in your tracks. Fear can kill a dream. What are you afraid of? What scares you more than anything else? This year, walk right up to it and conquer it, step by step.

    Dear friend, do you know the boy in the picture? He is Wang Yuan, a member of the Chinese boy band, TFBOYS. Do you want to know more about him? Follow me, please.

    Wang Yuan was born on November 8^th , 2000 in Chongqing. His English name is Ray, he is senior high school student now, he is good at singing, dancing and playing the piano. He can also write song alone. He and another two boys formed the boy band TFBOYS in 2013. They are very popular with the young girls and boys in China now.

    On February 10^th,2017,Wang Yuan made a short speech on good quality education(优质教育）in English at the United Nations in front of 500 people from around the world. It's great. As for middle school students, we should learn from Wang Yuan, and put our hearts into what we are doing to make a difference in our daily lives.

Every year, some 2. 3 million women and men around the world died from work-related accidents or diseases—that's more than 8, 000 deaths every single day—and at least 402 million people suffer from non-fatal occupational injuries. The number is enormous in terms of personal tragedy and hardship. And it comes with a huge economic loss. It is estimated that occupational accidents and diseases lead to a 5. 4 percent loss of annual global GDP. 

A safe and healthy working environment is so important that in June 2022 the ILO (International Labor Organization) took a historic step when it added a safe and healthy working environment to its Fundamental Principles and Rights at Work. 

Why does this matter? It matters because occupational safety and health can now no longer be viewed as an optional extra. All of the ILO's 186 member states are now required to respect, promote and achieve a safe and healthy working environment as a fundamental principle and right at work. 

This is significant for several reasons. First, it recognizes that every worker has the right to be protected from dangers and risks that can cause injury, illness or death in the workplace. 

By making occupational safety and health (OSH) a fundamental right, the ILO is sending a clear message to governments and employers of all countries that they must take responsibility for providing a safe and healthy working environment for all workers. 

When workers feel safe and healthy in their workplace, they are likely to be more productive and efficient. This can benefit workers, employers as well as the economy. Conversely, when workers are injured or become ill due to workplace dangers, it can have a significantly negative impact on productivity and economic growth. 

A safe and healthy working environment is now a fundamental right for each and every worker. Governments employers, trade unions as well as companies must work together to make this right a reality.