instruction:
Write the right answer to the question based on the context passage.
question:
We gave Tiger swimming lessons in our plastic wading pool. I taught the kitten the way Pa taught me: I threw him into water where he could not stand, and I watched, ready to grab him if he went under. Tiger did not thrash desperately like me. He merely paddled urgently for the edge of the plastic pool with his head high and his thin legs churning. Little Bit said, "Dog paddle," and we all laughed. "Tiger paddle," I said, and we all laughed some more, even Jordy. That was probably when Ma noticed the kitten swimming lessons and stopped them.
Our swimming lessons happened in two places. When Pa took us, we went to Hawkins Springs behind Mrs. DeLyons' Fountain of Youth Motor Hotel. When Ma took us, we drove to Mermaid Springs State Park, where we would sometimes meet Mr. Drake.
I liked Mermaid Springs better because I felt safe there. Ma could not swim, so she never made me jump off a dock into deep water, and she always insisted that I wear an orange styrofoam cylinder on my back like a skindiver or spaceman. Ma usually sat on a towel on the grass near the beach, reading a magazine or a book while tanning her legs. Every now and then she would call to us not to go too far or not to splash each other. When she wore her one-piece red swimming suit, she would come in up to her waist, then lower herself to her shoulders, being careful not to get her hair wet. On the rarest occasions, she would wear a swimming cap and float on her back in the shallow water. Often she stayed in her shorts and shirt, adding sunglasses and removing shoes as her concession to summer and the beach. Question: Who was careful not to wet her hair?
answer:
Ma


question:
One student started packing up at the beginning of a lab exercise. I asked him where he was going. He said "I'm going to fail this class anyway, so I have other things to do." It was true that he wasn't doing well, and we had addressed this previously, but his attitude was completely defeatist. He had given up.
So, there, in the middle of class, before he could get away, I said "Well, yeah. You will certainly fail if you don't even try. I thought you were graduating at the end of this semester."
"I'm supposed to, but I won't, because I'm going to fail physics. All I need is a D." (He was right; his major didn't require knowing any physics but they put it in the curriculum as a kind of gatekeeper course. Most students took physics much earlier in their studies than he did.)
"If you have already decided to fail, I can't stop you; you're an adult. But you can make an appointment with me anytime. You already know that. You can email me. It's my job to help you understand, but you have to come to me. You are an adult. It would be very inappropriate of me to follow you around, inviting you to office hours. And you must do the homework and the labs."
He stayed for the lab. I notified his counselor about what was going on, and she called him in and said the same things that I said.
Next class he moved from the seat at the edge of my peripheral vision, to the middle, started working his ass off, and he passed. For a while I thought he was closing in on a C, but he got his D and graduated.
And I didn't give him anymore of a grading break than I give any of my students. Question: Who thought he was going to fail?
answer:
the student


question:
SINGAPORE — What now? That is the question from the White House in Washington to the Blue House in Seoul — and perhaps also inside the Ryongsong Residence in Pyongyang.
Following the historic handshake here between a U.S. president and a North Korean leader, who inked their names to a document with vague but compelling promises, the question emanating from Sentosa's Capella Hotel was what will actually change on the Korean peninsula?
Moments after the summit between Donald Trump and North Korea's Kim Jong Un concluded, VOA contributor Greta Van Susteren and I spent a few minutes with the U.S. president and his secretary of state, at the Capella.
Trump was elated and within the hour would make a surprising announcement suspending "provocative" joint U.S.-South Korean drills on the Korean peninsula.
"We had a great chemistry," the president, speaking to Van Susteren, said of himself and Kim. "We will do business."
Secretary of State Mike Pompeo told us, "it's a great day."
The president has essentially handed off to Pompeo the hard work of turning a sparse declaration on denuclearization into something truly transformative. Many will question whether Pompeo, who a decade ago was running an oilfield equipment company, is truly the man for the task.
In Pompeo's background, however, are indications of his capabilities: First in his class at the U.S. Military Academy, time served on the House of Representative's intelligence committee, a brief stint as director of the Central Intelligence Agency and two meetings with Kim in Pyongyang. Perhaps he is now as astute as any American official on piecing together the Pyongyang puzzle.
This correspondent — an observer of the Korean peninsula over five decades, resident in Seoul for several years and once given the opportunity to frankly converse for a week (in 2013) in the North with KPA officers — has gleaned some insight into the world's most reclusive state.
Rarely can any collection of a few hundred words adequately encapsulate the geo-political conundrum. It is difficult for an outsider to fathom the deep emotional yearning of Koreans on both sides of the 38th parallel for reunification despite the vast ideological divide. Question: Who inked their names to a document with vague but compelling promises?
answer:

Trump and Kim Jong Un


