初中三分钟英语演讲稿范文（通用28篇）
But in retrospect, the destruction of my self was so repetitive that I started to see a pattern. The self changed, got affected, broken, destroyed, but another one would evolve -- sometimes stronger, sometimes hateful, sometimes not wanting to be there at all.The self was not constant. And how many times would my self have to die before I realized that it was never alive in the first place?I grew up on the coast of England in the '70s. My dad is white from Cornwall, and my mom is black from Zimbabwe. Even the idea of us as a family was challenging to most people. But nature had its wicked way, and brown babies were born. But from about the age of five, I was aware that I didn't fit. I was the black atheist kid in the all-white Catholic school run by nuns.I was an anomaly, and my self was rooting around for definition and trying to plug in. Because the self likes to fit, to see itself replicated, to belong. That confirms its existence and its importance. And it is important.
Embracing otherness. When I first heard this theme, I thought, well, embracing otherness is embracing myself. And the journey to that place of understanding and acceptance has been an interesting one for me, and it's given me an insight into the whole notion of self, which I think is worth sharing with you today.We each have a self, but I don't think that we're born with one.You know how newborn babies believe they're part of everything; they're not separate? Well that fundamental sense of oneness is lost on us very quickly. It's like that initial stage is over -- oneness: infancy, unformed, primitive. It's no longer valid or real. What is real is separateness, and at some point in early babyhood, the idea of self starts to form.
I would like to leave you now by playing one song. It’s called…it’s called the “Song of the Birds” – Pablo Casals’ favorite folk song from his beloved Catalonia. A love song to nature and humanity, a song about freedom, about the freedom of birds when they take flight, soaring across borders.
And I would like to dedicate this piece to you, Class of 20xx, with, once again, my heartiest congratulations.Graduates at universities and colleges around the United States are wrapping up the academic year, preparing to face a new era of life. As part of that tradition, celebrities, politicians, athletes, CEOs and artists are offering a range of life advice in commencement addresses.
Here is the commencement speech by Oprah Winfrey at Colorado College in 20xx.
In it, she tells college graduates in Colorado small steps lead to big accomplishments.
Winfrey quoted black activist Angela Davis, who said: "You have to act as if it were possible to radically change the world. And you have to do it all the time."
Winfrey says change doesn't happen with big breakthroughs so much as day-to-day decisions.
The television personality and philanthropist once gave away a car to everybody in the audience on her show. Winfrey didn't give the college graduates cars but copies of her book, "The Path Made Clear."
She told them to expect failure in life but know that everything will be OK.
Our little portion of oneness is given a name, is told all kinds of things about itself, and these details, opinions and ideas become facts, which go towards building ourselves, our identity. And that self becomes the vehicle for navigating our social world. But the self is a projection based on other people's projections. Is it who we really are? Or who we really want to be, or should be?So this whole interaction with self and identity was a very difficult one for me growing up. The self that I attempted to take out into the world was rejected over and over again. And my panic at not having a self that fit, and the confusion that came from my self being rejected, created anxiety, shame and hopelessness, which kind of defined me for a long time.
What’s worse is that we come up with a lot of excuses for this behavior. We tell ourselves that we’re making decisions based on efficiency, on the balance sheet, on superior intelligence or unique talent and understanding. We tell ourselves it’s for the protection of our tribe or our trade. But by reducing decisions to these standards, we are forgetting about the empathy we are born with, about the trust others have put in us, and about the obligations to one another as human beings.
That is why culture is so important. Culture resists reduction and constantly reminds us of the beautiful complexities that humans are made of, both individually and collectively. The stories we tell; the music we make; the experiments and buildings we design. Everything that helps us to understand ourselves, to understand one another, to understand our environment – culture.
But, it’s not just the culture we learn about in textbooks or see in a museum. It’s the arts and sciences; all the different disciplines that ask us to try, to trust, and to build. It’s culture that inspires deep learning and curiosity, that makes us want to seek the universal principles that drive everything.
Today, everywhere I go – whenever I hear music effortlessly crossing a border or see an example of art transcending economic and political differences or witness scientists from dozens of countries collaborating – I am reminded how essential culture has always been, in every era, every tradition.
The television execs fired Oprah said she was unfit for TV but she kept going. Critics told Beyoncé that she couldn't sing she went through depression. But she kept going.Struggle and criticisms are prerequisites for greatness. That is the law of this universe and no one escapes it. Because pain is life but you can choose what type? Either the pain on the road to success or the pain of being haunted with regret.You want my advice? Don't think twice.We have been given a gift that we call life. So don’t blow it. You’re not defined by your past instead you were born anew in each moment. So own it now.Sometimes you've got to leap. And grow your wings on the way down. You better get the shot off before the clock runs out because there is ain't no over time in life, no do over. And I know what sound like I'm preaching on speaking with force but if you don't use your gift then you sell not only yourself, but the whole world. Sure.
Don’t be frightened! When a Bennington student, 10 minutes before you come up to the podium hands you a mace, that he made,
If you don’t bring it to the podium with you, you will never be Bennington.
So I would like to thank you Ben for helping me put the fear of God in the audience tonight. But I have to put it down because I’m an actor, and I am really weak. That was heavy! It wasn’t like a prop. That shit was real!
Thanks Ben.
So now I’m going to read. And I’m not off book. So I might be looking down a lot.
Thank you, President Coleman, Brian Conover, faculty, students, family, alumni, some of whom are dear friends of mine who have travelled all the way from the big city to see me hopefully not humiliate myself tonight.
And especially thanks to you, the Graduating Class of 20xx.
See, as a joke I wrote, hold for applause, and I was actually going to read that. So you kind of killed my joke!
Now, a lot of you – the vast majority – won’t find yourselves in tech at all. That’s as it should be. We need your minds at work far and wide, because our challenges are great, and they can’t be solved by any single industry.
No matter where you go, no matter what you do, I know you will be ambitious. You wouldn’t be here today if you weren’t. Match that ambition with humility – a humility of purpose.
That doesn’t mean being tamer, being smaller, being less in what you do. It’s the opposite, it’s about serving something greater. The author Madeleine L’Engle wrote, “Humility is throwing oneself away in complete concentration on something or someone else.”
In other words, whatever you do with your life, be a builder.
You don’t have to start from scratch to build something monumental. And, conversely, the best founders – the ones whose creations last and whose reputations grow rather than shrink with passing time – they spend most of their time building, piece by piece.
Builders are comfortable in the belief that their life’s work will one day be bigger than them – bigger than any one person. They’re mindful that its effects will span generations. That’s not an accident. In a way, it’s the whole point.
When the door was busted open by police, it was not the knock of opportunity or the call of destiny. It was just another instance of the world telling them that they ought to feel worthless for being different.
WeAreTheWorld,WeAreTheFutureSomeonesaid“wearereadingthefirstverseofthefirstchapterofabook,whosepagesareinfinite”.Idon’tknowwhowrotethesewords,butI’vealwayslikedthemasareminderthatthefuturecanbeanythingwewantittobe.Weareallinthepositionofthefarmers.Ifweplantagoodseed,wereapagoodharvest.Ifweplantnothingatall,weharvestnothingatall.Weareyoung.“Howtospendtheyo
Itisameaningfulquestion.Toanswerit,firstIhavetoask“whatdoyouunderstandbythewordyouth?”Youthisnotatimeoflife,it’sastateofmind.It’snotamatterofrosycheeks,redlipsorsuppleknees.It’sthematterofthewill.It’sthefreshnessofthedeepspringoflife.Apoetsaid“Toseeaworldinagrainofsand,andaheaveninawildflower,holdinfinityinthepalmofyourhand,andeternityinanhour.Severaldaysago,Ihadachancetolistentoalecture.Ilearntalotthere.I’dliketoshareitwithallofyou.Let’sshowourrightpalms.Wecanseethreelinesthatshowhowourlove.careerandlifeis.Ihaveashortlineoflife.Whataboutyours?
To the family members and friends of our Stanford graduates, I say “thank you,” as well, from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for entrusting your loved ones to our university in their time here, and thank you for all that you have done to ensure their success.
It’s now my pleasure to turn the program over to Stanford’s Provost Persis Drell, who will present the winners of the University’s awards. Well, thank you, Provost Drell.
It’s one of my great honors, as Stanford’s president, to address our graduating class on Commencement day.
Class of 20xx, your years at Stanford have been a time of intellectual exploration, remarkable accomplishment, and extraordinary hard work and dedication.
Today, we honor everything that you have achieved during your time at Stanford, and we celebrate as you embark on the next stage of your journey.
Today’s ceremony marks the conclusion of your time as Stanford students. But I have great hope that, here at Stanford, you have acquired the tools and skills to remain learners for life. And even as you leave our campus behind, you will forever remain a cherished part of our Stanford family.
This is my third Commencement as Stanford’s president.
Since I returned to Stanford three years ago, I have been reflecting on the fact that Jane and Leland Stanford founded this university with a specific purpose – namely, to promote the public welfare by exercising an influence on behalf of humanity.
I do a lot of graduations, lecturing, talking, and exchanging with the girls, we talk about passion and purpose and realizing your dream. But I realized I was confusing them and their expectations were out of wack. One of my daughter girls two years ago graduated with an internship, bought a used a car, all with no help from me. She’d only been working about six months and called me and said "Mama O, they want to give me a promotion, and I don’t want to take it because I don’t think it fulfills my purpose.” And I said “Your purpose right now is to keep that job! To do what you have to do until you can do what you want to do." (I borrowed that line from the great debaters.)
For years, I had a job, and after years of doing what I didn’t want to do, I ended up finding my life’s calling. My job ended when I was 28 years old. I got my first job in radio at 16, got on tv at 19, and every day I said "I don’t know if this is what I’m really supposed to be doing." But my father was like: ‘You better keep that job!" At 28, it wasn’t working out on the news because I was too emotional. I would cry while interviewing someone who had lost their home. I was told that I was going to be talking on the evening news and put on a talk show, and that was a demotion for me at the time. But that actually worked out for me.
For years at graduations I’ve said there’s no such thing as failure. But there is. I’ve also said failure is life pointing you in a different direction, and it indeed does. But in the moment when you fail, it really feels bad. It’s embarrassing…and it’s bad, and it’s going to happen to you if you keep living. But I guarantee you it also will pass, and you will be fine. Why? Because everything is always working out for you.
Here’s my corollary: “Your mentors may leave you prepared, but they can’t leave you ready.”
When Steve got sick, I had hardwired my thinking to the belief that he would get better. I not only thought he would hold on, I was convinced, down to my core, that he’d still be guiding Apple long after I, myself, was gone.
Then, one day, he called me over to his house and told me that it wasn’t going to be that way.
Even then, I was convinced he would stay on as chairman. That he’d step back from the day to day but always be there as a sounding board.
But there was no reason to believe that. I never should have thought it. The facts were all there.
And when he was gone, truly gone, I learned the real, visceral difference between preparation and readiness.
It was the loneliest I’ve ever felt in my life. By an order of magnitude. It was one of those moments where you can be surrounded by people, yet you don’t really see, hear or feel them. But I could sense their expectations.
I really want to live in a world where disability is not the exception, but the norm. I want to live in a world where a 15-year-old girl sitting in her bedroom watching "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" isn't referred to as achieving anything because she's doing it sitting down. I want to live in a world where we don't have such low expectations of disabled people that we are congratulated for getting out of bed and remembering our own names in the morning. I want to live in a world where we value genuine achievement for disabled people, and I want to live in a world where a kid in year 11 in a Melbourne high school is not one bit surprised that his new teacher is a wheelchair user. Disability doesn't make you exceptional, but questioning what you think you know about it does. Thank you.
the ground, the air, the sounds, the energy from the audience. All my senses are alert and alive in much the same way as an infant might feel -- that feeling of oneness.And when I'm acting a role, I inhabit another self, and I give it life for awhile, because when the self is suspended so is divisiveness and judgment. And I've played everything from a vengeful ghost in the time of slavery to Secretary of State in 20xx. And no matter how other these selves might be, they're all related in me. And I honestly believe the key to my success as an actor and my progress as a person has been the very lack of self that used to make me feel so anxious and insecure.I always wondered why I could feel others' pain so deeply, why I could recognize the somebody in the nobody. It's because I didn't have a self to get in the way. I thought I lacked substance, and the fact that I could feel others' meant that I had nothing of myself to feel.
Two weeks ago, I was in Spain. I made a pilgrimage to visit the home of one my great heroes, the Catalan cellist Pablo Casals. He was 97 years old when I was a freshman in college. He had lived through World War I, the Spanish Civil War, World War II.
I was so lucky to have played for him when I was 7 years old. He said I was talented. His advice to me then: Make sure you have time to play baseball.
And I’ll let you imagine how that might have worked out.
But in reality, that wise counsel, “to make time for baseball,” was a profound reflection of the philosophy that motivated his life. Casals always thought of himself as a human being first, as a musician second, and only then a cellist. It’s a philosophy that I’ve held close to my heart for most of my own life.
Now, I had always known Casals as a great advocate for human dignity. But standing in his home two weeks ago, I understood what it meant for him to live that philosophy, what it meant for him to be a human being first. I began to understand just a few of the thousands of actions he took every day, every month. Each was in the service of his fellow human beings.
I saw letters of protest he wrote to newspapers from London to Tokyo. I saw meticulous, handwritten accounts of his enormous financial contributions to countless refugees fleeing the carnage of the Spanish Civil War – evidence of a powerful, humanistic life.
everyonehashisownunderstandingofyoung，itisaperiodoftimeofbeautyandwonders，onlyafteryouhaveexperiencedthesour，sweet，bitterandsaltycanyoureallybecomeapersonofsignificance.thretimeofyoungislimitted，itmaypassbywithoutyourattention，andwhenyoudiscoverwhathashappened，itisalwaystoolate.graspingtheyoungwellmeansabettertimeiswaitingforyouinthenearfuture，orthesituationmaybeopposite.
havingaviewonthesegreatmeninthehistoryofhunmanbeing，theyallmadefulluseoftheiryouthtime，todothingsthatareusefultosociety，tothewholemankind，andasacosquence，theyarerememberedbylatergenerations，admiredbyeveryone.sodosomethinginthetimeofyoung，althoughyoumaynotgetachievementsasthesegreatmendid，thoughnotforthewholeword，justforyoueself，forthosearound!
theyoungisjustlikebloomingflowers，theyaresobeautifulwhenblooming，theymakepeoplefeelhappy，butwithtimepassingby，aftertheywithers，moetpeoplethinktheyareugly.andsoitisthesamewithyoung，weareenthusiasticwhenweareyoung，thenwemayloseourpassionwhengettingolderandolder.sowemusttreasureit，don'tletthelimittedtimepassby，leavingnothingofsignificance.
It has an extremely important function. Without it, we literally can't interface with others. We can't hatch plans and climb that stairway of popularity, of successBut my skin color wasn't right. My hair wasn't right. My history wasn't right. My self became defined by otherness, which meant that, in that social world, I didn't really exist. And I was "other" before being anything else -- even before being a girl. I was a noticeable nobody.Another world was opening up around this time: performance and dancing. That nagging dread of self-hood didn't exist when I was dancing. I'd literally lose myself. And I was a really good dancer. I would put all my emotional expression into my dancing. I could be in the movement in a way that I wasn't able to be in my real life, in myself.
I'm here to tell you that your life isn’t some big break, like everybody tells you that is. It’s about taking one big life transforming step at a time.
You can pick a problem, any problem—the list is long. There’s gun violence, and inequality, and media bias...and the dreamers need protection...the prison system needs to be reformed, misogyny needs to stop. But the truth is you cannot fix everything. What you can do here and now is make a decision, because life is about decisions—and the decision that you can make is to use your life in service. You will be in service to life, and you will speak up, you will show up, you will stand up, you will volunteer, you will shout out, you will radically transform whatever moment you’re in, which will lead to bigger moments.
We see it every day now, with every data breach, every privacy violation, every blind eye turned to hate speech. Fake news poisoning our national conversation. The false miracles in exchange for a single drop of your blood. Too many seem to think that good intentions excuse away harmful outcomes.
But whether you like it or not, what you build and what you create define who you are.
It feels a bit crazy that anyone should have to say this. But if you’ve built a chaos factory, you can’t dodge responsibility for the chaos. Taking responsibility means having the courage to think things through.
And there are few areas where this is more important than privacy.
If we accept as normal and unavoidable that everything in our lives can be aggregated, sold, or even leaked in the event of a hack, then we lose so much more than data.
We lose the freedom to be human.
Instead of challenging Americans to believe in our ability to master the universe, as President Kennedy did, the current administration is pandering to the skeptics who, in the 1960s, looked at the space program and only saw short-term costs and long-term benefits.
President Kennedy’s era earned the nickname, ‘The Greatest Generation’ – not only because they persevered through the Great Depression and won the Second World War. They earned it because of determination to rise, to pioneer, to innovate, and to fulfill the promise of American freedom.
They dreamed in moonshots. They reached for the stars. And they began to redeem – through the Civil Rights Movement – the failures of the past. They set the standard for leadership and service to our nation’s ideals.
Now, your generation has the opportunity to join them in the history books. The challenge that lies before you – stopping climate change – is unlike any other ever faced by humankind. The stakes could not be higher.
If left unchecked, the climate change crisis threatens to destroy oceanic life that feeds so many people on this planet. It threatens to breed war by spreading drought and hunger. It threatens to sink coastal communities, devastate farms and businesses, and spread disease.
Saying goodbye to childhood,we step into another important time in the pace of young,facing new situations,dealing with different problems……everyone has his ownunderstanding of young,it is a period of time of beauty and wonders,only after you have experienced the sour ,sweet ,bitter and salty can you really become a person of significance.thre time of young is limitted,it may pass by without your attention,and when you discover what has happened ,it is always too late.grasping the young well means a better time is waiting for you in the near future,or the situation may be opposite .
As I was preparing these remarks, I realized that when I was first elected President, most of you – the Class of 20xx – were just starting high school. Today, you’re graduating at college. I used to joke about being old. Now I realize I’m old. (Laughter.) It’s not a joke anymore. (Laughter.)
But seeing all of you here gives me some perspective. It makes me reflect on the changes that I’ve seen over my own lifetime. So let me begin with what may sound like a controversial statement – a hot take.
Given the current state of our political rhetoric and debate, let me say something that may be controversial, and that is this: America is a better place today than it was when I graduated from college. (Applause.) Let me repeat: America is by almost every measure better than it was when I graduated from college. It also happens to be better off than when I took office – (laughter) – but that’s a longer story. (Applause.) That’s a different discussion for another speech.
But think about it. I graduated in 1983. New York City, America’s largest city, where I lived at the time, had endured a decade marked by crime and deterioration and near bankruptcy. And many cities were in similar shape. Our nation had gone through years of economic stagnation, the stranglehold of foreign oil, a recession where unemployment nearly scraped 11 percent. The auto industry was getting its clock cleaned by foreign competition. And don’t even get me started on the clothes and the hairstyles. I’ve tried to eliminate all photos of me from this period. I thought I looked good. (Laughter.) I was wrong.
He just said before he left the podium that there is a gift coming.
Thank you, Trevor, and Mike, thank you very much for your thoughtful and truly inspiring remarks and for choosing MIT for that remarkable announcement. Thank you so very much.
To the graduates of 20xx: once more, congratulations. My job today is to deliver a charge to you, and I’ll get to that in a minute. But first, I want to recognize the people who helped you charge this far.
To everyone who came here this morning to celebrate our graduates, welcome to MIT.
And…and to the parents and families of today’s graduates, a huge “congratulations” to you as well. This day is the joyful result of your loving support and sacrifice. Please accept our deep gratitude and admiration.
Now, graduates, for this next acknowledgment, I’m going to need your help. Over my left shoulder, there is a camera. In a moment, I’m going to ask you, all of you, to cheer and wave to it, all right? Just cheer and wave. And I would love it if you make it loud.
So next, I’d like to offer a special greeting to all those who are not able to come to campus, but who are cheering on today’s graduates online from locations all over the globe. We’re very glad to have you with us, too!
And I know what you're thinking. You know, I'm up here bagging out inspiration, and you're thinking, "Jeez, Stella, aren't you inspired sometimes by some things?" And the thing is, I am. I learn from other disabled people all the time. I'm learning not that I am luckier than them, though. I am learning that it's a genius idea to use a pair of barbecue tongs to pick up things that you dropped. (Laughter) I'm learning that nifty trick where you can charge your mobile phone battery from your chair battery. Genius. We are learning from each others' strength and endurance, not against our bodies and our diagnoses, but against a world that exceptionalizes and objectifies us. I really think that this lie that we've been sold about disability is the greatest injustice. It makes life hard for us. And that quote, "The only disability in life is a bad attitude," the reason that that's bullshit is because it's just not true, because of the social model of disability. No amount of smiling at a flight of stairs has ever made it turn into a ramp. Never. (Laughter) (Applause) Smiling at a television screen isn't going to make closed captions appear for people who are deaf. No amount of standing in the middle of a bookshop and radiating a positive attitude is going to turn all those books into braille. It's just not going to happen.
And at 16, I stumbled across another opportunity, and I earned my first acting role in a film. I can hardly find the words to describe the peace I felt when I was acting. My dysfunctional self could actually plug in to another self, not my own, and it felt so good.It was the first time that I existed inside a fully-functioning self -- one that I controlled, that I steered, that I gave life to. But the shooting day would end, and I'd return to my gnarly, awkward self.By 19, I was a fully-fledged movie actor, but still searching for definition. I applied to read anthropology at university. Dr. Phyllis Lee gave me my interview, and she asked me, "How would you define race? "Well, I thought I had the answer to that one, and I said, "Skin color." "So biology, genetics?" she said. "Because, Thandie, that's not accurate. Because there's actually more genetic difference between a black Kenyan and a black Ugandan than there is between a black Kenyan and, say, a white Norwegian.
We've created entire value systems and a physical reality to support the worth of self. Look at the industry for self-image and the jobs it creates, the revenue it turns over. We'd be right in assuming that the self is an actual living thing. But it's not. It's a projection which our clever brains create in order to cheat ourselves from the reality of death.But there is something that can give the self ultimate and infinite connection -- and that thing is oneness, our essence. The self's struggle for authenticity and definition will never end unless it's connected to its creator -- to you and to me. And that can happen with awareness -- awareness of the reality of oneness and the projection of self-hood.For a start, we can think about all the times when we do lose ourselves. It happens when I dance, when I'm acting. I'm earthed in my essence, and my self is suspended. In those moments, I'm connected to everything --
But make no mistake, engagement with the arts is integral to the experience of every Dartmouth student – not just those who actively create art. I grew up in a small mining town in the foothills of the Adirondack Mountains. A rough-and-tumble place, my town had no shortage of taverns, but not a single movie theater. So, when I arrived at Dartmouth in the fall of 1973, movies were a magnificent, unexplored terrain; and the Film Society became my obsession. My freshman fall, the Film Society ran a series of John Ford classics, and I marveled at these films – how they could stir such deep feelings with their irony and nostalgia. A year later, the Film Society became yesterday’s news when Springsteen played at the Hop.
For me, the arts at Dartmouth opened my mind to entirely new ways of thinking, helped me see the world as it is, and imagine the world as it could be.
Class of ’19, you embody Dartmouth’s lofty mission: to prepare our graduates to lead lives of leadership and impact. The arts have always been a magnetic presence on this campus exactly because they are core to that mission.
Because we all stem from Africa. So in Africa, there's been more time to create genetic diversity." In other words, race has no basis in biological or scientific fact. On the one hand, result. Right? On the other hand, my definition of self just lost a huge chunk of its credibility. But what was credible, what is biological and scientific fact, is that we all stem from Africa -- in fact, from a woman called Mitochondrial Eve who lived 160,000 years ago. And race is an illegitimate concept which our selves have created based on fear and ignorance.Strangely, these revelations didn't cure my low self-esteem, that feeling of otherness. My desire to disappear was still very powerful. I had a degree from Cambridge; I had a thriving career, but my self was a car crashand I wound up with bulimia and on a therapist's couch. And of course I did. I still believed my self was all I was. I still valued self-worth above all other worth, and what was there to suggest otherwise?