Read the following context and answer the question. Context: 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: What nationality is the student Answer:

Answer: not enough information


Read the following context and answer the question. Context: I had the joy, absolute joy, of observing an ER nurse just about lose it and the poor pompous MD (who had left the room) was still clueless. I was in the ER with my dad and my sister. It was late. Dad had taken a tumble, hit his head and because he was on a blood thinner, he had to be checked out at the ER. This ER was in the same hospital we always went to. As we completed the history etc. I noted “stroke effecting speech.” They had a complete synopsis of dad’s history which I gave them as we checked in. Dad is getting tired and his speech was getting more slurred. My Dad was in work clothes. I was in something pretty casual and my sister was in the same clothes (business attire) that she had put on at 6 a.m. I am sure we looked pretty ragged. In waltzes Dr. Hotshot. He looks around and asks my sister and I who we are. My sister introduced us making sure to introduce me as “Dr. Lea (I think that was the first, last, and only time she called me ‘Dr.”). He then turns to my dad and asked what happened. Knowing how difficult it is to understand Dad, I start to answer. My bad. The doctor abruptly stops me and says, “I didn’t ask you. I want him to tell me.” In hindsight, I realize he wanted to hear dad’s speech as a part of his assessment. Dad begins. His speech is slow and very very slurred. Dr. Hotshot looks totally befuddled. Dad had gotten out about 3 sentences out when Dr. Hotshot stops him and abruptly asks, “Does he always talk like that?” My sister, without missing a beat, replies, “No, sometimes he speaks French.” As I am trying to not swallow my head to keep from laughing, I notice the nurse in the room has buried her mouth in her shoulder. Dr. Hotshot exits. A scan shows no damage. And, for the record, Dad never did learn to speak French. Question: Why was Dad in the hospital Answer:

Answer: Because he hit his head and is on blood thinners


Read the following context and answer the question. Context: I was driving on Highway 35 on my way home from work. Up in front of me was a giant billboard advertising yet another jeweler, in ten-foot letters and bright silver watches like massive alien machines. The traffic slowed and stopped on the ramp as it bottlenecked further into the city, and my head turned to examine the sign and the blocked view of the cityscape and land beyond. Past it was another billboard, with the name of a casino as its only text, filled with collaged images of money, plush rooms, and dancers. A quarter mile further brought me to an advertisement for business management solutions. Another few hundred yards and I was urged to try the new sandwich at the new sandwich place. The sun set and the signs stayed bright as automatic light switched on. The city grew dark and the hills beyond feebled out, existing only in our minds and finally not even there. All that remained were the well-lit and shiny reminders that lawyers were standing by to take my case to court, and that somebody's air conditioners would outlast somebody else's. I had an idea. I made the call the next day. It would put me back a good half grand, but it would be worth it. There would be no design meeting; I sent them the image and it was printed. A few weeks later it went up. Now on my commute, when I paused in the crush of metal bodies, I looked up and saw mountains by Maxfield Parrish, reaching up to the clouds in impossible cragginess, rivulets and gushing streams painted down their sides, with the sun striking vibrant oranges and reds into the shadows of the rocks. There were trees in copper-patina green and still pools quieter than the middle of winter but warm as the first day of summer. No doubt people thought it was the first part of a two-stage advertising gimmick, or a filler to be used when no one was renting space on the sign. But I was happy. Question: What is probably true about the driver? Answer:

Answer:
The driver yearns for the outdoors.