2nd Place Winner, 2017 World Championship of Public Speaking® , Simon Bucknall transcript

Simon Bucknall, “What James Bullock Taught Me.” “What James Bullock Taught Me,” Simon Bucknall. Have you ever met someone where right from the start you both knew exactly where you stand? At least you thought you thought you did. In my school days that's how it was for me and James Bullock. We hated each other. I knew that, Bullock knew that and so do you Madam Contest Chair, friends and fellow former school children.

We were at a boarding school together, deep in the English countryside. Think Harry Potter and Hogwarts—without the magic, without the girls, but definitely with an evil Lord Voldemort, or as we knew him, Headmaster. Seriously he was a monster of a man. He was six 6-foot -5. That's two meters high, just count them. Towering over the boys and ruling his kingdom with an iron fist, you could hear him clear his throat from across the playground.

You guessed it: It was paradise. My parents lived in Saudi Arabia in the Middle East, a six hour flight away so I only saw them during the holidays. I was eight years old, but Bullock was 9 and he was built like a tree trunk, fists like sledgehammers and he was always up for a fight. I wasn't always up for a fight. I was up for Latin lessons. But if anyone was to dare stand up to Bullock—you, me or anyone—he’d snarl right back, “You're gonna make me?” No one did; least of all me.

He'd frighten the living daylights out of me. I knew that and so did he. Until one day at breakfast, in the dining hall, he stole my favorite comic book, Topper. My grandma sent it to me every week. It was the highlight of my week. “Give it back!” “Why should I?” “Because it's mine, Bullock. Just give it back!” “You're gonna make me?” Well just for once I did; right on the nose or as we'd say, right on the hooter. Now I'm not condoning violence, but I must confess it felt splendid.

I'd forgotten about you-know-who: the headmaster. He was also in the dining hall at the top table having breakfast, newspaper lowered, watching my every move. He must have seen what had happened, but then the most extraordinary thing. And things changed. It wasn't that Bullock and I became friends, but I'd gained his respect. I knew that and so did he. A few weeks later I received a letter in the post. It was from Saudi Arabia from where my parents lived but I didn't recognize the handwriting.

“Son, your daddy doesn't love you or your mummy anymore. He loves me, so we're moving away to go and live together in America and you won't be seeing him again.” I hid in the cellar of the school in the coal bunker and wept. Then I heard footsteps. “What do you want Bullock?” “Nothing. What's wrong with you?” “I'm going home next weekend. I told my dad about you, and my sister. They’d like to meet you. Why don't you come home with me?” Why not?

Turns out Bullock and I had more in common than you might think. We played soccer in the park, we fed swans by the river and we played a board game when it rained. I had the most fantastic weekend until the Sunday night when we went back to prison, to school. “Bucknall, in my study, your father's on the phone!” Turns out the headmaster had heard about the letter and had contacted my parents. “Dad?” “Simon, the letter’s not true.

It was made up. It was sent by a horrible person here at work. Mummy and I still love you and we love each other very much.” It's been more than 30 years. 30 years. Today my parents live much closer to my home 1.2 miles to be exact believe me they're ever so close. But I will never forget the compassion of my friend in the cellar. James Bullock the 9-year-old boy whose own parents really had separated and who understood when he read that letter.

We were destined to become great friends and while my parents moved back from Saudi Arabia to England, he visited my home too and we played a board game when it rained Bullock and I truly understood one another. I knew that and so did he how often in life do the great problems stem from breakdowns of understanding? The evidence is all around us: Fear and hatred are strong emotions, but they're no match for the power of mutual understanding.

That’s what Bullock taught me, because I received help from the very last person on Earth I could ever have expected. Who in your life needs your understanding? Who needs you to show a level of understanding that brings courage where there may have been fear, to bring respect where there may have been prejudice, to bring compassion where there may have been hate? Because when we truly understand each other, everyone gains.

I know that, Bullock knows that and so do you.