In this task, you're given an article and an answer. Your task is to generate the fill-in-the-blank question for this answer based on the given article. The blanks are always at the end of the question, and can be filled with more than one word or phrase.
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Question: Article: The Tories would allow children to go to school for ten hours a day and on Saturday mornings to improve the performance of poorer pupils and help working parents. Schools spokesman Michael Gove declared plans yesterday to give disadvantaged children more classroom time to help them catch up. Longer school days could also be popular with parents who struggle to fit 3pm school finishing times around work, he said.  Mr. Gove gave out the success of a U.S. plan where teenagers from poor backgrounds attend school from 7.30 am to 5pm. "I believe that having children in school for longer, particularly if they come from disadvantaged backgrounds can help them to achieve more in academy, " he told the annual conference of the Association of Teachers and Lecturers in Manchester. He pointed out that it was up to schools alone to decide whether to open longer, or at weekends. But he was greeted with laughter from delegates  when he said the plan would really work only with the active support of teachers.  ATL general secretary, Dr Mary Bousted, said, "The last thing we need to be doing at the present time is increasing teachers' working hours. Teachers already work the most unpaid overtime of any public sector profession. If we want Saturday schools then we need more teachers doing the extra hours, not the same teachers working longer and becoming tired." Meanwhile Mr Gove's idea is likely to alarm those concerned about the erosion( )of family time. Margaret Morrissey, founder of the lobby group Parents Outloud, said, "What we should be doing is supporting these children within the school week." 
 Answer: studies

Answer: The successful example given by Mr. Gove suggests that having children in school for longer, can improve their  _  .


Question: Article: Occasionally, my father came back drunk. Late at night, he beat on the door, pleading to my mother to open it .He was on his way home from drinking, gambling, or some combination thereof, misspending money that we could have used and wasting time that we desperately needed. It was the late-1970s. My parents were separated. My mother was now raising a group of boys on her own. My father spouted off about what he planned to do for us, buy for us.In fact, he had no intention of doing anything. As a father who was supposed to love us, in fact, he lacked the understanding of what it truly meant to love a child--or to hurt one. To him, this was a harmless game that kept us excited and begging. In fact, it was a cruel, corrosive lie. I lost faith in his words and in him. I wanted to stop caring, but I couldn't. Maybe it was his own complicated relationship to his father and his father's family that caused him cold. Maybe it was the pain and guilt associated with a life of misfortune. Who knows. Whatever it was, it stole him from us, and particularly from me. While my brothers talked about breaking and fixing things, I spent many of my evenings reading and wondering. My favorite books were a set of encyclopedias  given by my uncle. They allowed me to explore the world beyond my world, to travel without leaving, to dream dreams greater than my life would otherwise have supported. But losing myself in my own mind also meant that I was completely lost to my father. Not understanding me, he simply ignored me--not just emotionally, but physically as well. Never once did he hug me, never once a pat on the back or a hand on the shoulder or a tousling of the hair. My best memories of him were from his episodic attempts at engagement with us. During the longest of these episodes , once every month or two, he would come pick us up and drive us down the interstate to Trucker's Paradise, a seedy, smoke-filled, truck stop with gas pumps, a convenience store, a small dining area and a game room through a door in the back. My dad gave each of us a handful of quarters, and we played until they were gone. He sat up front in the dining area, drinking coffee and being particular about the restaurant's measly offerings. I loved these days. To me, Trucker's Paradise was paradise. The quarters and the games were fun but easily forgotten. It was the presence of my father that was most treasured. But, of course, these trips were short-lived. It wasn't until I was much older that I would find something that I would be able to _ as evidence of my father's love. When the Commodore 64 personal computer debuted, I convinced myself that I had to have it even though its price was out of my mother's range. So I decided to earn the money myself. I mowed every yard I could find that summer for a few dollars each, yet it still wasn't enough. So my dad agreed to help me raise the rest of the money by driving me to one of the watermelon farms south of town, loading up his truck with wholesale melons and driving me around to sell them. He came for me before daybreak. We made small talk, but it didn't matter. The fact that he was talking to me was all that mattered. I was a teenager by then, but this was the first time that I had ever spent time alone with him. He laughed and repeatedly introduced me as "my boy," a phrase he relayed with a sense of pride. It was one of the best days of my life. Although he had never told me that he loved me, I would _ that day as the greatest evidence of that fact. He had never intended me any wrong. He just didn't know how to love me right. He wasn't a mean man. So I took these random episodes and _ them like a thing most precious, storing them in my mind for the long stretches of coldness when a warm memory would prove most useful. It just goes to show that no matter how friendless the father, no matter how deep the damage, no matter how shattered the bond, there is still time, still space, still a need for even the smallest bit of evidence of a father's love. "My boy." 
 Answer: shy but thoughtful

Answer: From the passage, the father was  _   in the writer's memory.


Question: Article: Down-to-earth means being honest, open, and easy to deal with. It is a pleasure to find someone who is down-to-earth. A person who is down-to-earth is easy to talk to. He or she accepts others as equals. A down-to-earth person may be an important member of society, of course, but they do not let their importance go to their heads, and they do not consider themselves to be better than others who are less important. Someone who is filled with self-importance and pride, often without cause, is said to have his nose in the air. There is no way a person with his nose in the air can be down-to-earth. Americans use another expression that is similar in some way to down-to-earth. The expression is both feet on the ground. Someone with both feet on the ground is a person with a good understanding of reality. He has what is called common sense. He may have dreams but he does not allow them to block his knowledge of what is real. The opposite kind of person is one who has his head in the clouds. A man with his head in the clouds is a dreamer whose mind is not in the world. Sometimes such a dreamer can be brought back to reality; sharp words from the teacher, for example, can usually get a daydreaming student to put both feet back on the ground. The person who is down-to-earth usually has both feet on the ground. _ . Someone with both feet on the ground may not be as open and easy to deal with as someone who is down-to-earth. When we have both our feet firmly on the ground, we are realistic and we act honestly and openly toward others, and our lives are like the ground below us, solid and strong. 
 Answer: is confident

Answer:
If a person has his nose in the air, he   _  .


