text:
GEORGE NUGENT-TEMPLE-GRENVILLE, 1ST MARQUESS OF BUCKINGHAM, (17 June 1753 – 11 February 1813; known as THE 3RD EARL TEMPLE between 1779 and 1784) was a British statesman.

Background and early life

Grenville was the eldest son of George Grenville, Prime Minister of Great Britain, and his wife, Elizabeth Wyndham, daughter of Sir William Wyndham, 3rd Baronet, and was born on 17 June 1753. He was the nephew of Richard Grenville-Temple, 2nd Earl Temple, and the elder brother of Thomas Grenville and of William Grenville, 1st Baron Grenville, also Prime Minister of Great Britain. In 1764, he was appointed a Teller of the Exchequer. He was educated at Eton College from 1764 to 1770 and matriculated at Christ Church, Oxford in 1770. He succeeded his father on 13 November 1770. In 1774 he undertook a Grand Tour through Italy and Austria. In 1775, he married the Hon. Mary Nugent, daughter of the 1st Viscount Clare (later the 1st Earl Nugent).[1]

Political career

[Statue sculpted by Edward Smyth in 1783, showing Buckingham in the robes of a Knight of the Order of St Patrick[2]] [Shield of arms of George Nugent-Temple-Grenville, 1st Marquess of Buckingham, KG, KP, PC - Vert, on a cross argent five torteaux (for Grenville)]

Grenville was returned as Member of Parliament for Buckinghamshire at the 1774 general election. In the House of Commons he emerged as a sharp critic of the American policy of Lord North. In September 1779, he succeeded his uncle as Earl Temple and moved to the House of Lords.[3]

Grenville also took the additional family names Nugent and Temple by Royal Warrant issued on 4 December[4] making the compound family name Nugent-Temple-Grenville. In 1782, Lord Temple was appointed Lord Lieutenant of Buckinghamshire and in July 1782, he became a member of the Privy Council and Lord Lieutenant of Ireland in the Ministry of Lord Shelburne. He was instrumental in the enactment of the Renunciation Act of 1783, which supplemented the legislative independence granted to Ireland in 1782. As Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and by Royal Warrant, he created the Order of St Patrick in February 1783, with himself as the first Grand Master. He left Ireland in 1783 and again turned his attention to English politics. He enjoyed the confidence of King George III, and having opposed Fox's East India Bill, he was authorised by the King to say that “whoever voted for the India Bill was not only not his friend, but would be considered by him as an enemy”, a message which ensured the defeat of the Bill. He was appointed a Secretary of State when the younger Pitt (his father's sister's son) formed his ministry in December 1783, but resigned only three days later.

In December 1784, Lord Temple was created MARQUESS OF BUCKINGHAM. In November 1787, he was again appointed Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, this time under Pitt, but his second tenure of this office proved less successful than the first. Grattan denounced him for extravagance; the Irish Houses of Parliament censured him for refusing to transmit to England an address calling upon the Prince of Wales to assume the regency; and he could only maintain his position by resorting to bribery on a large scale. When his father-in-law died in 1788, Lord Buckingham succeeded him as 2nd Earl Nugent. However, since he already held the higher rank of Marquess, he was never known by this title. Having become very unpopular, he resigned his office in September 1789.

Later years

Lord Buckingham subsequently took very little part in politics, although he spoke in favour of the Act of Union of 1800. His wife died in 1812 and he died on 11 February 1813 at his residence, Stowe in Buckinghamshire. He was buried at his ancestral Wotton. He left two sons: The 1st Duke of Buckingham and Chandos and The 2nd Baron Nugent.

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

question: Summarize Grenville's political career during the 1780s.

answer: In 1782, he became Lord Lieutenant of Buckinghamshire. He was made Lord Lieutenant of Ireland in 1782. In 1783, he was appointed a Secretary of State when the younger Pitt formed his ministry. He was created Marquess of Buckingham in 1784. He resigned as Lord Lieutenant of Ireland in 1789.

critique: He was Lord Lieutenant of Ireland twice, once in 1782 and once in 1787.

critique: It's omitted that he became a member of the Privy Council and Lord Lieutenant of Ireland in the Ministry of Lord Shelburne in 1782.

question: Summarize Grenville's second tenure as Lord Lieutenant of Ireland.

answer: Grenville was appointed Lord Lieutenant of Ireland in 1787. He was denounced for extravagance and censured for refusing to transmit an address to England. He was only able to maintain his position by large-scale bribery. He resigned in 1789.

critique: The response is missing the part where Grenville was appointed Lord Lieutenant of Ireland in 1787.

question: Summarize Grenville's personal life.

answer: Grenville was born in 1753. He married the Hon. Mary Nugent in 1775. They had two sons. His wife died in 1812, and he died in 1813.

critique: It is omitted that he married Mary Nugent in 1775.

critique: Does not mention Grenville's son succeeding him as Earl.

critique: The answer should mention that Grenville was the eldest son of George Grenville, Prime Minister of Great Britain.

critique: It is omitted that he was the eldest son of George Grenville, Prime Minister of Great Britain, and his wife, Elizabeth Wyndham, daughter of Sir William Wyndham, 3rd Baronet.

critique: His wife's death is not relevant to the question.

question: What does the article say about Grenville's relationship with his wife?

answer: No answer

critique: The response misses to mention that Grenville married Mary Nugent in 1775.

text: It should be stated that the text does not provide enough information to answer this question.

category: accuracy


split: train

text:
MICHAEL PEZZULLO, is an Australian public servant. In October 2014, he was appointed the Secretary of the Department of Immigration and Border Protection. On 20 December 2017, a reshaping of departments led to him taking up the post of Secretary of the Department of Home Affairs.[1] Prior, Pezzullo had been the Chief Executive Officer of the Australian Customs and Border Protection Service.[2]

Education

Pezzullo has a Bachelor of Arts (with Honours) in History from the University of Sydney.[3]

Career

Pezzullo joined the Department of Defence as a graduate in 1987.[4] After five years in the Defence department, Pezzullo discovered “the experience, age and, to some extent, ideological and almost philosophical gap between [him] and the next level up meant [he] would not advance until [he] became crusty, old and cynical,”[5] so in 1992 he transferred to the Department of Prime Minister and Cabinet, where he worked in the International Division.

In 1993 Pezzullo joined the staff of the Minister for Foreign Affairs, Senator Gareth Evans, and remained in Parliament House until December 2001, including as deputy chief of staff to then opposition leader Kim Beazley.[6] In February 2002, he rejoined the Department of Defence and, in 2006, was promoted to the position of Deputy Secretary Strategy in that department.[7] Between February 2008 and May 2009 he led the Defence White Paper team and was principal author of the 2009 Defence White Paper.[8][9]

In July 2009 Pezzullo joined the Australian Customs and Border Protection Service as chief operating officer, a role which he continued in until September 2012. He was promoted to acting chief executive over the period September 2012 to February 2013 and on 15 February 2013 was employed as the substantive CEO.[10] When appointing Pezzullo, then Home Affairs Minister Jason Clare told media that Customs required major structural change, and Pezzullo had been appointed to drive reforms.[11] In the role, Pezzullo emphasised the importance of border security not only as a security issue, but also as an economic concern.[12]

On 2 October 2014 Prime Minister Tony Abbott announced that he had made Pezzullo the new Secretary of the Department of Immigration and Border Protection, effective 13 October 2014, replacing Martin Bowles.[13] As immigration secretary, Pezzullo led changes in his department recasting what had been seen as traditional immigration and border security institutions and doctrines.[14]

Management of conflict of interest

_The Sydney Morning Herald_ reported that early in 2014 Pezzullo's brother, Fabio, escaped a criminal conviction after he confessed to lying to an inquiry investigating corruption at Sydney airport.[15]

Fabio Pezzullo, a former Customs officer, was fined and placed on a two-year good behaviour bond for perjuring himself before a corruption watchdog. The 42-year-old was charged after an investigation over allegations he sold prescription drugs to fellow Sydney Airport Customs officers and lied to the Australian Commission for Law Enforcement Integrity. The commission was investigating several of his colleagues for drug importation and bribery. Despite being told verbally and in writing not to tell anyone of the summons, Fabio Pezzullo told his flatmate, a former Customs officer. Fabio Pezzullo's sentencing took place in June 2014.[16]

While the case was underway Michael Pezzullo was fulfilling senior executive roles in Customs and Border Protection, but had disclosed the conflict to his minister from the outset.[17] In a note to staff regarding the case he was reported to have said: “from the outset, I asked and expected to be treated as a detached family member with no official rights, interests or powers in the matter.” The communique also details the processes that were implemented to manage any real or perceived conflict of interest relating to the case.[18]

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]

[10]

[11]

[12]

[13]

[14]

[15]

[16]

[17]

[18]

title: Mike Pezzullo

question: Why did Mike Puzello disclose the conflict to his minister and release a note to the staff?

answer: Because he is a responsible public servant who cares about what the public believes

critique: The answer is not related to the question.

critique: Who has asked the question is not relevant

critique: This answer is not supported by the text.

critique: It is not stated that he is a responsible public servant who cares about what the public believes.

critique: "Because he is a responsible public servant who cares about what the public believes" - this is a given and doesn't answer the question.

critique: "Because he is a responsible public servant who cares about what the public believes" - this is inaccurate. Pezzullo disclosed his brother's criminal case because he had a conflict of interest.


text:
Your horse veers left only narrowly avoiding the rather large rosewood shrub.  Just in time it sees the scaredly defensive rattlesnake arching back and preparing to strike the horses legs.  Instinctively, and with no signal from you, the white mare jumps over the coil of snake.  Bang.  Bang.  Bang.  You free several rounds from their casings in the direction of the rustlers.

With look of stern grimace, you drive your spurs into the sides of your beast.  Harder.  Faster.  You push the horse, racing after the cattle thieves.  The warm air rushes past you.  It catches your broad brimmed hat and whisks it away onto the ground.  Never mind the hat, it’s gone.  You can’t see them for the palpable cloud of dust thrown into the air by their beasts but you know they number six.

Glancing back, you turn your head to see the two men on their mounts beside you.   That’s strange.  A look of combined adrenaline induced enthusiasm and fear is readily strewn across their faces.  Normally inexpressive masks, to make any poker player jealous, were characteristic of these old ranchers.  The fear, you decide, is likely the result of them thinking about the near off confrontation with the rustlers.  They are probably considering their wives and children back at their respective homes.
Not you though.  You’ve never had much time to take a wife.  Most of your time is spent lonesome as you wander the dirty, dusty plains of Texas.  It’s not that you’ve never thought about it, though.  There’s that one pretty young girl who works in town at the drug store beside the farriers workshop.  You often buy your tobacco from that drug store; even though it costs slightly more than if you were to purchase it from the saloon or the general store.  But you do it anyway because it’s not often a vagabond finds a reason to speak to such a pretty girl.  You can see her now.  With that long raven hair and those hazel eyes perched above her daintily freckled cheeks.  She flashes that shy smile every time you enter the store, the embodiment of perfection.

Bang.  Old John fires his pistol unnervingly close to your ear as he urges his beast past yours, and at a pace any sane man would consider too much for the sharp decline in the approaching ground.  But John doesn’t care.  Faster he pushes his horse, with reckless indifference to its or his own safety.  He was always crazier than a nesting pit viper in the middle of June, ole John.  You are going to put an end to the stealing and dealing of this gang once and for all.  Whether blood need be shed or not, this will end today.

The cattle bandits have yielded.  Side by side, the three of you take up arms and begin to exchange blasts as you blaze a wide circle around the six.  Knees locking the side of your horse, you fire shots from both of your double actions simultaneously.  One of the bandits falls from his still horse.  That makes five over three now.  But soon after John takes a shot to the shoulder, falls to the side of his mount and jerks the reigns pulling the tan beast around into a sharp stop.  Then falls the third rancher along with his horse, both of them riddled with lead.

Click.  Click.  Click.  You have expelled the final bullet from your pistols.  The bandits realize this and cease firing.  There's no rush.  The larger oafish one says something under his breath and two of them laugh as he awkwardly dismounts his beast.  You bring your horse to a stop, as you place the sixth bullet into your second revolver, about a hundred yards from the thieves.   You give the cylinder a small spin.  Click click click click click, and with an effortless flick of your wrist it snaps back into position.  Tick, one hammer is drawn.  Tick, the second hammer is extended.  You stare at your pistols.  Absolutely beautiful.  Those pearl white handles are something else.  Cost you a God damn fortune from that little shop way up in Utah, but that’s alright.  The magnificent craftsmanship was certainly worth it.

One hundred yards from the five remaining bandits.  An easy shot for a semi skilled rifle.  And young Billy was more than a semi skilled rifle.  Much more.  A God damn hawkeye the kid was.   Known throughout much of Texas and even up into most parts of Utah for his sharpshooting.  With a reputation stretches as far as that you know a man is good at what he does.  This punk kid, no older than twenty and riding with a no name gang of common cattle thieves lead by Sticky Pete.

He tilted the hat back, lifting the brim up out of his way.  You could just see Billy’s thumb rise, ever so slightly adjusting the vertical height of the rear sight of his Sharpe rifle.  His cheek rested timidly beside the thumb on the wooden stock.  Never before have you felt like this.  A completely indelible feeling of a sheer and utter lack of hope and power.

Bang.

title: Cattle Rustlers

question: Describe Billy.

answer: Billy is a young man riding with a gang of cattle thieves lead by Sticky Pete. He is a semi skilled rifleman.

question: What is the theme of perfection in the story?

answer: The ranchers are all described as having very expressionless faces, which is how they are described as being perfect poker players. The ranchers also think about their wives and children at home, which is a more emotional display of imperfection. The ranchers also make a point of noting that the narrator has never taken a wife. When the narrator does eventually meet the perfect girl, he feels that he has a chance with her.

critique: The answer should mention the narrator's pistols.

critique: The answer does not mention the narrator's pistols, which are described as "absolutely beautiful" and "magnificent craftsmanship".

critique: The answer is a bit off base. It should be more about the narrator's perception of perfection.

critique: The bit about the narrator's wife is irrelevant.

critique: The answer should mention that Billy is the perfect shot.

critique: The response is missing the theme of perfection in the story.


text:
The Queen did what she could do to relax in her sitting room—pondering questions that lives would hinge on—when a knock came at her door. Through her exhaustion she stood to her feet and stepped to the mirror to check her reflection. There she smoothed the worry from her face, softening her aspect with a tender smile at the edges of her lips, placed her crown atop her head, and then stepped to the door.

A Soldier stood proudly before her. His gaze was hard, his face tough, providing a look that could only be attained from bitter time spent on a battlefield. In the doorway he spoke bluntly, harshly, to his Queen, “I am not fighting for you anymore.”

She recognized him, she wasn’t sure from where—she knew she had never met him. The Queen motioned for him to enter the room and to take a seat across from her ornate chair. Both postured, backs stiff, without comfort, and exchanged looks.

“I’ve watched your palace up here on this hill and I’ve wondered who the woman we all fight and kill for is. But now,” he pauses, shoulders breaking under the weight they held, he lets out a deep breath, slouching in the chair. “I’m leaving tomorrow. From then you can do what you will, I won’t care. But before I go, I must ask you, why?”

Her sitting room was decorated with historic tapestries. Her crown was adorned with priceless jewels. Her face held onto a youth and beauty that may not have been rivaled in the rest of the world.

Quietly the Soldier sucked in the deep breath that he had released and straightened his back once again, “I see you now. You are so very young. I don’t think you’re able to understand all the men I’ve seen fallen.” His blunt military voice justified his one demand. “I deserve you to tell me why.”

The Queen stared back at the Soldier, back straighter than his, stiffened with a weight of responsibility that her man took as grandeur and arrogance. “You won’t understand, and may as well not try.”

In her face, the Queens smile quivered and tears well up in her eyes. But with a blink she closed herself up like a book.

She looked sternly at the Soldier and spoke, “The secrets that I’ve swallowed, they burn and cut me inside. Often I’ve bled. You are not the only one who knows the battle field.”

“Tell me,” the Soldier ordered, unable to read the woman, unfamiliar with royalty, not knowing what he demanded was impossible. “How hungry are you? How weak you must feel living up here alone, never revealed, while the battle rages on.” he pushed the chair back and stood violently, his face reddened with passion, passion that he had never felt for the people that he had fought against, passion only for the one responsible for it all. “When have you had to tell a daughter, a mother or a wife, that her man wasn’t coming back?” The Soldier looked down at his Queen. “I feel no pity for you, and I won’t march again on your battlefield.” He turned his back on her, and looked out the window to the view that she had.

At that window he saw a golden sun surrounded by a dark grey sky. A light breeze cooled the anger from his face, returning his shoulders to a relaxed state, and he confessed his thoughts, “All I’ve ever wanted was to live an honest life. To get all I deserve and to give all I can, to love a young woman who I don’t understand.” He paused, turning to stare at the back of the woman who he had laid some much out for. “Your Highness, your ways are very strange.”

She had stood and was looking into her mirror, back to her faithful servant. In the reflection she saw the man, feeling that she wanted much less than her position demanded from her. Her head fell to her chest, her crown to tumbled to her feet, she thought she would break. Frightened and ashamed at what her heart felt, she could no longer face the Soldier.

The Queen turned and walked the Soldier to the door. There she told him to wait, she would only be a moment inside.

She gave an order that was received.

Outside the door the Soldier was killed, still waiting her word, while the Queen picked up her crown, she was choked by the solitude she sadly preferred. Meanwhile the battle continued on.

title: Queen and Soldier (765 Words)

question: Summarize the plot twist in the story.

answer: The soldier is killed by the Queen after he demands to know why he is fighting for her. The Queen is then left alone, feeling that she wanted much less than her position demanded from her.

critique: The response is missing the part where the soldier is killed.

critique: The Queen orders the Soldier killed, which is the plot twist.

critique: Add in who the soldier's thinking and what he declares in response to her leaving the room.

critique: The soldier is killed by the Queen's order.

critique: The response includes extraneous information not useful for the task.

question: Summarize the war in which the Queen and her subjects, including the soldier, are involved.

answer: No answer

critique: The answer should mention that the war is implied to be a civil war.

critique: The answer should mention that the war is not described.

critique: The answer should mention that the story is not about the war.

critique: The answer should mention that the war is never explicitly described.

question: What does the story say about loyalty?

answer: The Queen is loyal to her people, and the Soldier is loyal to her. The Soldier is loyal to the Queen, but he is no longer willing to fight for her. The Queen is loyal to her people, but she is not willing to tell the Soldier why she is fighting.

critique: The answer is incorrect. The Queen is loyal to her people, and the Soldier is loyal to her. The Soldier is loyal to the Queen, but he is no longer willing to fight for her. The Queen is loyal to her people, but she is not willing to tell the Soldier why she is fighting.

text: There is some repetition in the response that should be removed.

category: coherence

question: Describe the tension between the soldier and the Queen.

answer: The soldier is angry at the Queen for sending him to fight for her. He is also angry at her for not telling him why she is sending him to fight.

critique: The response is missing the Queen's reason for sending the soldier to the battlefield.

critique: The answer should mention that the soldier is angry at the Queen for not telling him her reasons for sending him to fight.

critique: It's omitted that the soldier is done with his fighting for her.

critique: The response is incorrect. The soldier is not angry at the Queen for sending him to fight for her. He is also not angry at her for not telling him why she is sending him to fight.

critique: The answer omits that the soldier is angry at the Queen for not telling him why she is sending him to fight.

critique: The answer should mention that the soldier is angry at the Queen for not telling him why she is sending him to fight.

critique: The soldier is angry at the Queen for sending him to fight for her. He is also angry at her for not telling him why she is sending him to fight.


text:
	He wasn't quite sure if he could still call himself a magician. He didn't really feel all that magical. Yet here Jack was, sitting on his bed, trying to pull something out of his hat.
	He had gotten the hat when he was a kid. He used to do all sorts of magic. Not particularly GOOD magic, but it was magic. As he got older though he became more and more self conscious of his mystical little hobby. Not that any one made fun of him for it, in fact he got a lot of praise for his magic tricks. He just decided that there were more practical uses of his time. But for some reason, today he really wanted to pull a rabbit out of thin air.
        He stuck his hand in and felt nothing. He was rusty.
	Jack thought back to his first performance at the 5th grade talent show. The crowd was amazed- or so he had thought. It wasn't until watching his mothers video tape of the performance years later that he realized that 'Jack the Magnificent' was only 'Jack the Pretty Good for an 11-year-old'. His biggest trick, a levitation spell, could only get him three feet off the ground. More adorable then magnificent.
	Tired of being patronized by his family and friends he sold most of his magical treasures in high school. The faberge dragon's egg he got from his dead grandmother brought in enough for him to get a car. 'The Mysterious Mittens of Midas' (an 8th birthday present that stopped working years ago) helped him rent a tux for prom. He decided to just give 'The False Pharaoh's Sarcophagus of Sacrilege' to the children's museum. The thing was so big he was just happy to get rid of it. They were pretty irritated when they found out it was cursed but come on- just look at it's name. It shouldn't have taken 2 possessions for them to figure out what was up. The only items that he decided to keep were the hat and a jar that held the first pixie he ever summoned. He had kept them for mostly for sentimental reasons (they were also the easiest to fit in the closet). But the pixie had escaped at some point, but Jack's Mom swore it was still in the house somewhere.
	His parents had been pretty supportive of the whole "I want to be a mystical conduit" thing when he was a kid, but then again they were pretty supportive of everything he did. He was currently a manager at local department store, and Mom and Dad just seemed happy that he capable of taking care of himself. The job payed pretty well and he was proud of working his way up from a cashier position. His hobby had actually proved to be of some help in getting him there: When a couple boxes from a shipment had gone missing Jack used an enchanted tome he found on eBay (either 'Jupiter's Judgment' or 'Issitoq's Intuition'- he couldn't remember what it was called now) to find that the boxes had fallen behind one the shelves in the back. Corporate was so impressed they decided to give him the assistant manager's job after they quit to go work at iHop.
	Jack was pretty content, but he was also pretty bored. Maybe that's why he was spending his one day off this week trying to pull a rabbit out this old hat.
 	He started trying to remember why he had wanted to become a magician: To understand the unknown? To create that which didn't yet exist and command powers capable of altering the very fabric of the universe? Probably the same reasons any kid wanted to be a magician. As a boy he had dreamed of being one of the greats, a mighty sorcerer capable of changing the world. However, as he got older he realized that there was a much higher chance that he would fail and just become another wizard living at home with his parents. So he decide to just alter his dreams. Instead of conquering the mysteries of the world, he decided he could still be happy with having a good retirement plan.
	And he was happy. He had security, which was more then a lot of people had in the current economy. And being magician was risky- dangerous even. A couple of friends back in his hometown were still trying to make it big- one had accidentally caught his dad's yard on fire trying to deal with a squirrel problem and another had recently grown a permanent third eye (good luck with any future job interviews with that thing on your forehead). So why was he sitting here, wasting his Saturday trying to make something out of nothing?
	Maybe it was because, after graduating and leaving home, he wasn't feeling so special anymore. He wasn't the center of his parents world, he wasn't the center or anyone's world. He had a lot responsibility at work but he was easily replaceable. He was started to get frustrated, he had been digging around this hat for about ten minutes now and he hadn't been able to find anything. What was he trying to accomplish here? It's not like a rabbit was going to make him feel any better any way.
	But then Jack started doing something he hadn't done in quite some time: he started to wonder. What if there wasn't a rabbit in this hat?
        What if it was something else entirely?
	What if there was an ancient vessel inside, a home for a forgotten god? What if it was a vial containing a serum that made people forget their middle name? What if instead of a rabbit he pulled out a flower that smelled like hellfire?  Or what if inside this old hat was an even older hat that when worn would transform him into someone that wasn't afraid of asking out Sarah at work?
	He pulled his hand out of the hat and hesitated. He hadn't properly considered the possibilities, something horrible could happen.

        Or something amazing.

	He paused. Then, trying not think, he stuck his hand into the hat reaching as far as he could. The brim of the hat met his shoulder and he finally got a hold of what was in the hat

        He grabbed it tightly, pulled it out, and turned the nothing into a something.

title: The Not-So-Magnificent

question: Which parts of the story reflect its genre?

answer: The story is a fantasy, and the genre is magic.

critique: The story is a fantasy, but it is also a slice of life.

text: The response does not specify the exact parts that reflect the story's genre, rather, it disclosed what it thinks is the genre.

question: How does Jack's attitude toward magic change through the story?

answer: He starts out thinking he's not so magical. He's trying to remember why he wanted to be a magician. He wants to feel special again. He is a little frustrated at his abilities. He is trying to find something in his hat, something magical.

critique: "He is trying to find something in his hat, something magical." - this is incorrect. He's trying to pull a rabbit out of his hat.

text: The response gave us Jack's attitude to magic, but it doesn't tell us how it changed over the course of the story.

question: What does the story say about the most successful magician in the world?

answer: No answer

critique: The answer should mention that the story does not mention any successful magician.

question: What does the story say about Jack's friends?

answer: Jack's friends back in his hometown were still trying to make it big. One of them accidentally caught his dad's yard on fire trying to deal with a squirrel problem, and another had grown a permanent third eye.

critique: Jack's friends are not mentioned in the story.

critique: The friends that are mentioned are not Jack's friends. They are his friends back in his hometown.

critique: The answer should mention that Jack's friends are not mentioned again.

critique: The answer should mention that Jack's friends are not mentioned in the story.


text:
	I guess I’ll open my eyes now, where’s my phone? It’s one o clock. Another day already wasted. A text from mom, I’ll check it later. I’ve got a few hours until work so maybe I’ll get some writing done today. Two, get ready, take a shower, shave. Three to four, eat. So I’ve got that long. Reddit. What’s on Reddit. Still on the game subreddit from last night. Eight posts I haven’t seen yet. That’s exciting. All seen now. Next page. Two links. Looking good. This video is nine minutes long though. Another time. How about the Front Page.
	Oh wow. Only seen four of these links. New releases, politics, kittens. Cool. Looking good. All seen now. Next page. Five links not seen, nice. Third page. Fourth. Fifth, okay this is still the stuff from three o clock last night. Facebook.
	Babies, breakfasts, advertisements. Look how happy everyone is. Maybe I’ll post something today. I don’t think I have anything interesting to say. I don’t have anything interesting to say.
	That’s funny. Like. Gross, can I downvote? No. This isn’t reddit. I should check reddit.
	A new post. Looking good. Eh a phone call, I’ll check it later. It’s too early to talk. I don’t have anything interesting to say anyway. I don’t have anything interesting to say. Reddit’s boring now. Maybe /r/wtf? Yeah. Gross. I don’t think I saw everything on Facebook though.
	Second page. Third. Yeah, that’s everything. What time is it?
	Two. That’s fine. I’ve got time, don’t need to get up yet. I should check reddit. I didn’t read those articles. Eh, I’ll read one of them. Cool I guess. I wonder what’s on the league subreddit. Just that nine minute video. Eh. Second, third, fifth, eighth page. I’ll check new. Wow, these suck. Mine wouldn’t suck this bad if I ever submitted. I’m a writer. Well kind of. I’m not a writer until I get something published, remember? Where’s that video. What time is it.
	Two forty-five. That’s fine. I don’t think I need a shower today. I’ll do some writing tomorrow. I should get up though, should eat I think.

	Fridge, cupboard, freezer, pantry. I need groceries.
	Fridge. So many condiments. Why do I still have this gravy? It’s so old. And lime grenadine? That was such a bad idea. Should really clean this out. Should clean my apartment too. There’s that picture that’s been sitting on the floor since we moved in. I’ll be productive tomorrow. I’ll do something tomorrow. Already wasted today. I bet I missed something in the freezer.
	Nope, just alcohol, ice, and alcohol. Thought I had ice cream. I’ll put it on the list. The cupboard had some creamy pasta I think. This looks good. I don’t want to wait ten minutes though. I’ll check the pantry again, maybe there’s some cereal I missed. Pancake mix. Don’t like pancakes. Sauce, syrup, plastic bags. Do have some of that bad cereal though. I guess I’ll finish it off.
	Well I should have checked the fridge before pouring that bowl of cereal, out of milk. I’ll put it on the list. Need paper for it. Eh, I’ll remember until tomorrow the list. No sense pouring the cereal back into the box though, wow this garbage is-really--full. That should make it okay until tomorrow. I wish I had more time so that I could write. Those ideas, I bet I could be famous. I’ll start as soon as I had time.
	I wonder if I could get off tonight. That way I’d have time. I need the money though, if it’s offered though I’ll take it.

	Well, got the night off. Time to celebrate! I can’t just not do anything with this time. No, I was going to write.

	I cannot concentrate. I’ll move into my game room. Get stuff done there, just not turn on my main computer. Music, music will help. Still nothing. I’ll take a break. See who is online. Oh cool one of my friends is playing a game. I’ll just spectate it.
	Man what a tough loss. I can play one game with him I guess. It sucks playing alone anyway and we work well together. Good game, I ought to try out that champion, I’ll pick her up and try a few bot games. I’ll get back on later. Check out some guides in the mean time. What time is it? Seven thirty. Still day light, looking good. I wonder what’s on reddit? Hey one new post that’s cool. I didn’t eat earlier.
	Wish I had milk for this oatmeal. Oh well, I’ll put it on the list. Still nothing on reddit. Facebook? Couple new things that’s cool. I wonder if there’s any new info on the games coming out. Nope. Seen it all already. A bit of speculation though. I don’t know, that wasn’t well put together. Why even try if you’re going to sound stupid?
	Netflix. What do I feel like. Not really a movie. I don’t have two hours. Seen all these shows. Seen all these shows, seen all these shows. I guess I’ll start the office again.

	What time is it? Nine. That’s a great show though. Those writers know what they’re doing. I could be that. I’m hungry. And bored.
	Reddit, facebook, reddit, fridge, pantry, cupboard, fridge, facebook, Netflix. Subreddit, subreddit.
	Nothing good.
	Guess I’ll play some more games.

	What time is it? Three? I should go to bed. Eight more pages of reddit. Three more of facebook. No new information on games. All seen now. What time is it? Three forty. Guess I ruined tomorrow already. Not looking good. Oh yeah, my friend called and that text. Totally forgot. Well I’ll get back to them when I have something interesting to say. I don’t have anything interesting to say.

title: [NF] a day in the life

question: Summarize the narrator's interactions with social media.

answer: The narrator spends a lot of time scrolling through Reddit and Facebook. He scrolls through Reddit's pages and clicks on links to look at new stuff, but doesn't see much interest on any of the pages. They also look at their own Facebook page and the pages of their friends, but the narrator finds nothing interesting to post about. They use Reddit and Facebook to kill time.

critique: It is omitted that they mean to express interest in some things they see (and speculate on as to their accuracy, as in the case of speculation on game announcements), but do not comment because they feel they do not have anything meaningful to say.

critique: The narrator does not look at their own Facebook page.

critique: The narrator does not post anything on Facebook.

critique: The answer should mention the narrator's lack of self-confidence.

critique: The narrator doesn't post anything on Facebook. They are also not on Reddit to kill time.

critique: They also look at their own Facebook page and the pages of their friends, but the narrator finds nothing interesting to post about. They use Reddit and Facebook to kill time. - this part of the response is irrelevant and should be removed.

question: Summarize everything related to food.

answer: The narrator eats three to four hours after waking up. They eat breakfast at three to four. They eat a bowl of cereal at seven thirty. They eat oatmeal at nine. They eat dinner at three.

critique: The narrator eats oatmeal at nine, not dinner.

critique: They do not eat dinner. The narrator eats breakfast at three to four, not dinner.

critique: The narrator eats three to four hours after waking up. They eat breakfast at three to four. They eat a bowl of cereal at seven thirty. They eat oatmeal at nine. They eat dinner at three.

critique: "nine" - they don't eat breakfast at three to four hours and it's not mentioned what time it was (although it should be around 9ish). Replace this with the correct time for reference.

critique: The answer should mention the narrator's lack of food.

critique: The narrator eats breakfast at three to four, not three to four hours after waking up.

critique: The narrator eats breakfast at three to four.

question: What does the story say about what the narrator posts on Reddit?

answer: The narrator browses Reddit, a website where people can post links and other content, and checks out all the links, even those that are older. He checks his messages and then browses Reddit again. He browses all the links again, even the older ones. He then browses Facebook, checking out what his friends are posting.

critique: The story does not say anything about what the narrator posts on Reddit.

critique: The narrator does not check his messages again.

critique: The answer omits that he doesn't post anything.

critique: There is no evidence that the narrator browses Reddit again after he checks his messages and messages.

critique: The narrator doesn't check his messages.

critique: The response is inaccurate. The narrator browses Reddit, a website where people can post links and other content, and checks out all the links, even those that are older. He checks his messages and then browses Reddit again. He browses all the links again, even the older ones. He then browses Facebook, checking out what his friends are posting.

critique: The narrator does not check his messages.


text:
My dad and I used to play catch a lot.  We’d go out to the backyard and just toss the ball for a little bit.   I loved watching baseball, so I went out to play any chance I could get.  I think my dad did it to blow off some steam.  He hated his job, so he blew off steam a lot.  Sometimes he would just sit looking out the window in the middle of the night.

On Thursdays my dad would get out of the factory early.  He would go to the bars at around four, and be back before eight.  My mom and I would be watching the 7 o’clock news.  He would get back and stand to the side of us without saying a word.  He would look at me and ask me to go to the front yard and break a twig off of the small tree by the mailbox.  I’d look at him, and I’d look at my mom, then back at him, and say “ok.”  So I did what I was asked and brought him the switch.  He’d then calmly ask me to take off my shirt, and so I did.  For the twenty minutes after I’d be whipped with the switch.  It never hurt too bad.  When he was finished, he’d tassel my hair and say he’d love me, and I would respond, “I love you too.”  I’d go to hug my mom, and with tears in her eyes she’d hug me too, and then I’d go to bed.

Every now and then, my dad would bring me to go bowling with him and his friends.  They would always cheer me on, and every time I had a good shot, my dad would yell, “that’s my boy!” and give me a high five.

Sometimes at night I’d sneak into my parents bedroom when they were sleeping.  I would grab my dad’s snub-nose out of his nightstand drawer, and aim it at his head from about an inch away.  I’d cock it as quietly as possible, and just stand there with my finger on the trigger.

As a joke, my dad would occasionally kick me down the stairs if he was right behind me.  It would just be a light kick, and I’d stumble down a step or two.  I would always look back at him and smile, and he would be laughing too.  One day he did it again, but for some reason I couldn’t catch myself.  I just kept on tumbling and tumbling down the steps.  I landed on the wood floor at the bottom, not in any pain at all really.  I looked up at him expecting to see a smile, but he just had this horrified look on his face.  I saw my hand, and I just had a couple broken fingers.  Not a big deal, we’d just tell them that I shut my hand in the door like we always did.  But, then I looked at my right leg.  Instead of the knee bending the normal way, it bent the same way, but forward.  The bone was sticking out, and blood was pouring on the floor pretty fast.  I looked at him, and he looked at me, and for the first time I could see remorse and fear in his eyes.

A couple months earlier, my dad brought me to the drive-in.  Instead of leaving after the first film, we just stayed until the third movie was over.  We were making up life stories about everyone we could see.  My dad was really good at making up stories.  We left at about midnight, and both of us could not stop smiling until we got home.  It was a good day.

Three days earlier, and twenty years later, my dad died in prison.

I visited him every Tuesday for the most part.  Some days I just didn’t have time, but I always warned him ahead of time.  The day he died I had to stay at work late.  I didn’t call him, because I didn’t have time to even think about it.  That day he stayed in his cell alone, and then went to the visiting center to window #3, the same window as always.  He would then wait at the window to be visited by a non-existent visitor.  He just looked at the window.  The memory of not having the memory of looking back at him I will never forget, and always regret.  An hour and a half after our usual visit time, my dad died on his cot.

During the summer sometime, we played catch in the backyard.  It was a little later in the day than usual, but I didn’t care.  It was about midway through, and he stopped and looked towards the sunset.  Seeing him, I put the ball in my mitt and looked too.  It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

title: [RF] Catch With My Dad

question: What does the story say about the narrator's dad's coping mechanisms for hating his job?

answer: The narrator's dad hated his job. He would blow off steam by playing catch with the narrator. He would also go to the bars after work and come back before eight. The narrator's mom and he would be watching the 7 o'clock news when he gets back. He would then ask the narrator to go to the front yard and break a twig off the small tree by the mailbox. He would then whip the narrator with the switch for twenty minutes.

critique: The response includes extraneous information not useful for the task.

critique: The narrator's dad also goes bowling with his friends.

critique: The narrator's dad does not blow off steam by playing catch with the narrator.

critique: The narrator's dad did not blow off steam by playing catch with the narrator. He did it to blow off steam.

critique: The narrator's dad would whip the narrator with the switch after asking him to break the twig off the small tree by the mailbox. The narrator's dad would then tassel the narrator's hair and hug him.

critique: The answer should mention that the narrator's dad also went bowling with his friends.

question: What does the text say about abuse?

answer: The narrator's father whipped him with a switch in the front yard and gave him a hug after every time. He was also kicked down the stairs occasionally. After the third time, his dad kicked him hard, and he broke his leg. He visited his father in prison every Tuesday.

critique: The answer should mention the narrator's feelings about the abuse.

critique: "After the third time, his dad kicked him hard, and he broke his leg." - it wasn't the third time.

critique: The narrator's father didn't kick him hard, he kicked him down the stairs.

critique: The answer should mention the narrator whipping his father.

critique: The answer should mention that the narrator was also abused by his father.

critique: The father's abuse is not described as kicking down the stairs, but as kicking the narrator, which is not accurate.

critique: The response contains inaccurate information.

critique: The answer should mention that the narrator's father was in prison for killing someone.

text:
-'The narrator's father whipped him with a switch in the front yard...' This sounds like his father used to beat him in the front yard. The model should consider rewriting this.
-'He visited his father in prison every Tuesday.' This is irrelevant and should be removed.
-The answer should mention that sometimes the narrator would sneak into his parent's bedroom, take his dad's gun and aim it at his head with his finger on the trigger.

category: other

category_text: Coverage and coherence.

question: Summarize how the narrator feels about their father when he grows up.

answer: They visit him in prison every week, but they regret not having time to call him the day he died. They seem to be more forgiving of their father than their mother, as they do not mention his beating them.

critique: The narrator's mother isn't mentioned in the passage.

critique: Their mother does not seem to be more forgiving

critique: The narrator visits their father in prison every Tuesday, not every week.

text:
-The answer omits that the narrator had a close relationship with his father and enjoyed spending time with him playing catch in their backyard, going bowling with his friends, and enjoyed listening to the stories his father would make up about everyone they could see.
-'They seem to be more forgiving of their father than their mother, as they do not mention his beating them.' This is inaccurate and made up. This should be removed.

category_text: Coverage and accuracy.

question: Summarize how the father treats his wife.

answer: No answer

critique: No response is not an option and an answer should be provided.

critique: The response misses to answer the instruction in the task.

text: The answer should state that the story does not discuss how the narrator's father treats his wife.


text:
First things first- I've never seen The Birds. This story is influenced solely by the final scenes within Stephen King's *The Dark Half*. If you have read it, I hope you appreciate my take/twist on it. If you haven't, enjoy anyway.

...

The crows outside his window grew in number every night. He first noticed them with the arrival of what they called the “storm of the century.” Exaggeration or not, it certainly was a powerful storm by anyone’s standards. He, as he always was during these kinds of events, was sitting by his window watching the lightning dance and leap across the glowing sky. Storms had caught his love early in life. He had regularly stood by his front door with his father searching for signs of trouble in the sky while the rest of his family sought shelter in the closet. That’s what confused him most: The skies themselves took the opportunity to communicate with the ground below; why ignore them? They were destructive, yes, but they were beautiful.

This destructive beauty was all around him: The winds swept up a miniature twister of dead leaves, whipped the rain to nearly horizontal angles, shook the trees until they cried out in protest, and then shook them some more. He thought he even heard Ms. Lear’s old oak succumb to the stress, though he couldn’t be sure over the explosions of thunder.

The intensity of the storm almost made it seem calmer than it actually was. The glimpses of the outside world illuminated by the flashes of lightning were more frequent than not; it was almost as if it was midday and there were flashes of nighttime instead.

Caught in this light was a gnarled dead tree. Its bark was long gone; its leaves he’d never seen. He almost imagined that, with them, its branches had been like ragged hands, grasping at whatever ventured near them, waving to people in the breeze. Perhaps it used to walk the Earth, finally settling down here to wither away and die. That tree always bothered him; he didn’t exactly know why. It wasn’t like he’d ever had reason to distrust it, that is, if one could call what he felt toward it distrust. All that it’d ever really done was stand there, gently swaying, branches slowly tracing their fingers through the air. Nevertheless, he’d done his best to avoid going near it whenever possible.

The lightning seemed to have begun to die down. The lapses into darkness between the strikes became longer, but, as if to reaffirm its might, a bolt with the brightness of a star’s filament of flame suddenly lit up the sky. He slammed his eyelids shut yet the light burned through. He summoned the strength to open them no more than a hair’s breadth and, his face contorted in the light’s overwhelming intensity, collapsed to the floor with his face buried between his knees when the blast of thunder came. His house shook from the force: photos crashed off their spots on the wall and his collection of odds and ends he’d picked up over the years jumped off its resting place on his desk onto the floor as if in search of shelter. He feared his roof would collapse: luckily, it held. Whoever said that it was the lightning to fear, not the thunder, obviously never experienced such an explosion. Instinctive fear and deep respect reverberated through him.

After the last echoes passed, he slowly raised his head and focused his eyes back out the window onto the grey tree. What he saw there on one of the spindly branches stunned him more than the storm did. A lone crow sat there, its eyes met with his. Its gaze never wavered; it seemed completely oblivious to the tempest around it even as the branch it was perched on shook violently. He sat there staring for what felt like eons. He felt powerless to break his gaze until, without warning, the bird opened its beak (he didn’t know whether or not it cawed; he could hardly hear anything but the sound of the deluge bombarding the ground) and, with a sudden leap, took flight and disappeared in another flash of lightning. Equally without warning, a wave of lightheadedness overcame him and he toppled over.

---

The rain had yet to drain out of the yard by the next evening. Leaves and other debris floated lifelessly on the unnaturally still water, giving them the appearance of resting upon giant mirrors. The sky was a dead grey and still; the winds had ceased completely. A dense fog carpeted the ground: He could hardly see beyond what he guessed to be thirty feet. The dead tree was just within the reach of this fog; it was the only thing assuring him that the ground still existed below the mist.

He was leaned back in his recliner, *The Dark Half* in hand. Thad Beaumont and Alexis Machine were about to face off; the battle between good and evil was nigh. Shame I don’t have any sparrows on hand, he thought with a slight chuckle. He was about to flip pages when the sound of rustling feathers broke the silence. A feeling not unlike a trickle of cold water inched its way up his spine as he slowly closed his book. Setting it down, he rose, head slightly cocked, and approached his window. Outside, sitting in the tree’s open hands, were crows. Nineteen crows, all perched on the dead tree’s limbs, all facing directly at him. They shuffled their feet, their wings, but not an eye moved from him. He knew not the purpose of their gathering and was highly unnerved; he dared not move but, betraying his will, blinked once. As if the spell was broken, one of the birds on the tree’s left let out a cry. The rest of the group silently took flight and disappeared into the low clouds. He watched them quickly disappear into the fog. It was as if they vanished: One second they were churning up the air, the next it was as if they were never there.

He hoped never to see them again, that this was their last visit to him.

---

It wasn't.

---

title: The Murder - First shot at creative writing (Little longer, split it up)

question: Summarize the storm that took place.

answer: Lightning ignited the thunder. The crows began to fly in a group. The bird sized one crow from the group, as if the crow was eyeballing him. The electrical pressure grew heavier beings he needed to put a chair between himself and the window.

critique: The response is inaccurate and incoherent.

critique: The first sentence is not relevant to the question.

critique: The bird-sized crow was on the branch of the tree.

critique: It is not stated that the bird-sized one crow was eyeballing him.

critique: "The electrical pressure grew heavier beings he needed to put a chair between himself and the window." This sentence is incoherent and makes no sense. It should be removed.

question: What role do the crows play in the story?

answer: The crows are a kind of omen. They are a sign of the coming storm, and they appear again when the storm is over.

critique: The crows are not a sign of the coming storm. They are a sign of the storm.

text: It is incorrect that the crows are an omen.

question: Summarize the surprises in the plot.

answer: The first surprise is when the narrator is shocked to see a crow staring at him during a thunderstorm. The next surprise is when he feels lightheaded and collapses. The third surprise is when he finds out that the crows are coming back.

critique: This answer is sort of inaccurate. While the idea of the surprise is correct, the surprising part is left out. Probably because the author hasn't read the story and is making up his own version. The surprising part of the story is that the man is surprised by the birds, he's been seeing them for some time but doesn't know why. It's not that he only had one surprise or three.

critique: The answer omits the second surprise, which is when the protagonist sees the crows again.

question: Summarize the similarities between this story and Stephen King's The Dark Half.

answer: Both stories involve the protagonist being intimidated by birds. In this story, the protagonist is intimidated by a crow. In The Dark Half, the protagonist is intimidated by a flock of birds.

critique: The protagonist is not intimidated by a crow in this story, he is stunned by it.

critique: The protagonist is not intimidated by a crow in this story.

critique: There is no evidence that the protagonist in this story is intimidated by a crow.


text:
We met two years ago.

I remember the first time I saw her. It was at orientation for our job. We were both starting a job working at an after school program for children. Our company worked at about 5 different schools, and after the general orientation was over, we all split up into our specific schools to met the people we'd be working with and to take ID pictures. There she was. Black, long hair. Bangs. Tons of freckly. Her upper lip curled a little beneath her nostrils when she smiled, creating a small wrinkle...almost another smile right beneath her nose. It was amazingly cute. She was beautiful. I had never seen anyone like her before. She just looked....happy. And kind. And she exuded it.

I remember I immediately thought to myself "She is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen."

And I meant it.

We started working together, looking after children grades K - 5 after they got out of school at the end of the day. We had about 80 kids total. So this girl and I got to know each other. She had a boyfriend at the end who she was deeply in love with, which was a bummer but whatever, I took the time to become her friend and to get to know her anyway.

She would tell me about her major at school, her very large family comprised of many adopted children, and how musical her family is. I'd tell her about me and my family, my music that I play, what i want to do with my life. We would just talk to each other and it made work amazing.

Sometimes she would look at me directly in the eye, and I would see a spark in her eye, and I'd feel that spark inside of me as well. IT was the craziest sensation. Never happened to me before. It was like small moments of our souls connecting.

So soon I find myself thinking about her all the time. I play in a band, and I would just close my eyes, think about her and play whatever came out while jamming. It was awesome. Soon she began appearing in my dreams on a nightly basis.

I don't remember being this attracted to any one person since I was in elementary school. I haven't had a "crush" on anyone since then. All of my hook ups or relationships were presented to me and I was basically like "Sure why not, I'll do it." It's been a while since there was one single person who made all other girls fade out.

I come into work one day and she runs up to me, shouts
"YOU WERE IN MY DREAM LAST NIGHT!" and then proceeds to tell me about her dream. I decide to keep my dreams about her to myself at this time, but the next few days she would come in and sure enough she had been dreaming about me again. I eventually told her about my dreams about her and she called us "DREAM BUDDIES", saying that we hang out in our dreams.

Then the summer came. Our job was coming to an end. She was going on a month long vacation, and I was starting up work at a summer camp. On our last day of usual work, I worked up the courage to ask for her phone number. I told her about a party at a friend's house that I was going to in her town (we lived in separate towns) and told her that she should come by and check it out.

She gave me her number.

On the day of the party, I chickened out and didn't text her.

My friends and I were house sitting at my friend's uncle's house that just happened to be in her town. We worked all day, then decided to start drinking and unwind. We decided we were all too tired for a big party and just had a couple friends over. I decided not to text her. So I start drinking, heavily, with my friends.

Then I get a text. "Party?"

I tell her to come by. She does. She gets high with me and my friends and we talk about music. She stays for about an hour and then gracefully excuses herself. It would be the last time I would see her for a while.

title: [RO][NF] Some lessons you learn the hard way.

question: What does the text say about the girl?

answer: The girl and the narrator work in the same after school program. She is beautiful. She has short black hair and a stunning smile. Her black hair always intrigued him and he "liv[ed] for that smile". She and her boyfriend have a loving relationship that always interfere with the narrator's chances of asking her out.

critique: The girl is not described as having short black hair.

text: The girl has long black hair, not short

question: What does the story say about unrequited love?

answer: No answer

critique: The answer should mention that the girl had a boyfriend and that the narrator didn't have the courage to ask her out.

critique: The answer should mention that the girl has a boyfriend.


text:
  The man straightened his collar as he looked into the mirror, dreading having the "talk" with his son, Simon. No not that talk, a different talk. Simon got into a fight at school today. The principal said Simon didn't start it. That wasn't what concerned him, what did was the condition of the young man his son beat.

He closed his eyes and tried to come up with the right words. His thoughts quickly turned to prayers, because he had no idea what to say. After awhile he opened his eyes, he need not make his son wait any longer. He had sent Simon up to his room right after they got home from the meeting with the principal.

"It's time to bite the bullet." He encouraged himself as he left the bathroom.

He walked to Simon's room where he found the door open, waiting for him. His son was sitting at his computer desk, he let out a sigh to let him know he was there then walked over and sat on the bed. His son tuned to face him.

"Dad, I swear I didn't mean to hurt him that bad. He just kept on and on. He slapped me and I know you always say turn the other cheek, but I couldn't. I had no choice something inside of me just took over. I FELT LIKE A MONSTER! I promise all I wanted was for him to leave me alone." As his son spoke tears filled his eyes, he could tell he thought he had hurt his father. Simon's shirt was ripped and his knuckles was bloody.

"I understand more then you know."  He said with a smile.

"You do?" Simon said shocked.

"Yes, I guess you could say temper runs in the family."

"I have never seen you even get cranky before." Simon protested.

"Ah, but I am old. I have had many more years then you have to learn to control it."

"How can I be sure it won't happen again?" Simon asked as tears ran down his face.

"You should be kind to everyone, even the undeserving. It is not our place to judge. Turn the other cheek, know that if you don't bad things are to come, just like today. As you get older, the bad things worsen. There are even things you can watch for and avoid like I do."

"Like what daddy?"

"Confrontation, arguments or anything that may make you angry. If you have a thought or have a hard time calming down, go to somewhere you can be alone. Then yell and do whatever you need to get it out. I like a dark place personally."

"Like your study, is that why you had it sound proofed?" Simon asked.

His father not answering rose to his feet. Simon stood up and hugged his father.

"So I'm not in trouble?"

"Of course not. How bad did he hurt you?" He asked.

"My lip was bleeding, I think it stopped though. I'm okay." Simon answered.

"Go change your shirt and wash your hands, we are going for ice cream. That feels good on a busted lip." His father said with a smile leaving the room.

He could see Simon was happy, but he was not. He closed the door to his study and walked into the bathroom.

"Pick on my son." He said as he began to lose his temper.

"Slap my son." His heart raced and his hands stiffened and snapped.

"Bust his lip." His face tightened.

"Made him feel like a monster?" He asked himself.

He slammed his once human hands into the wall, he slammed his foot into the toilet. Water ran all over his feet as though a fresh cooling effect. He rested his clawed hands on the sink and in snapped and cracked under the pressure. His gaze turned to the mirror. Fangs, slit eyes that even to this day remind him of a cat and bone piercing his skin making horns.

"A monster." He whispers to himself.

A voice from deep within him speaks, "one day, you will have to tell him. He is my son too."

"Dad? Are you ready?" Simon's voice called out from the study.

"Oh yeah, just gotta change my shoes, I'll meet you in the car." He listened until he heard the door close to his study.

His gaze returned to the mirror now a man who is growing old looks at him instead of the beast that lives inside.

"I know that." He tells it, he knows it can hear him. It's always listening. "Today isn't that day."

He combed down his whitening hair and changed into dry shoes and met Simon outside.

"Dang dad, what took so long?"

"We have to stop by Lowe's, I need to place an order." He answered.

"Toilet in your study is messing up again?!" Simon asked.

"I guess I'm not the plumber I thought I was." He answered with a smile.

"Geez dad, I would have gave up by now. You have the patience of a saint."

title: [MF] The Understanding Father

question: What does the story say about the fight Simon gets into?

answer: Simon gets into a fight at school. The principal says Simon didn't start it. Simon's father is concerned about the condition of the young man his son beat. Simon says he didn't mean to hurt him that bad. He says the other boy slapped him and he couldn't turn the other cheek. Simon's father tells him to be kind to everyone, even the undeserving. He says if you don't turn the other cheek, bad things will come. He tells Simon to go somewhere alone to calm down if he has a hard time.

critique: The response includes extraneous information not useful for the task.

critique: It is omitted that Simon beat the other boy so badly that his knuckles and shirt were bloody.

question: What does the story say about how Simon's father feels about Simon's fight with the boy?

answer: Simon's father is concerned about the condition of the boy Simon beat up. He is also worried about what to say to Simon about the fight. He is also worried about Simon's temper. He wants to make sure Simon doesn't get into any more fights.

critique: The answer omits that the father is also worried about Simon's temper.

text: The answer should add that Simon's father was upset that his son got into a fight and that the other boy made his son feel like a monster.

category: coverage

question: What does the story say about the condition of the boy Simon beat?

answer: No answer

critique: The answer should mention the boy Simon beat.

critique: The answer should mention that the boy Simon beat was badly hurt.

critique: The story does mention the condition of the boy Simon beat.

critique: The answer should mention that the boy was badly beaten.

critique: The answer should give an indication of the boy's condition.


text:
I'm basically living a Gods life

I'm special, not genius special, nor am I short yellow bus special.
 No, i'm a very special type of special, a special special if you
 will. you see, I have the power to stop time. I first discovered
 it when I was around thirteen. I noticed that when I concentrated
hard enough on something that everyone around me would stop and I
would be the only one left moving. I controlled time.
Having this talent was quite fun at first, you know, things like
cheating on tests and sleeping in the middle of class for hours on
end and then picking back up where I left off. Nowadays it's still
 amazingly fun but it has it's drawbacks. Whenever I try to really
think about things, things like work problems or relationship issues
 i'll find that hours will pass without even noticing. this
leads me to have three week days. life goes so slowly now that I
 can think about everything I do and say before doing or saying anything.
 I have determined I don't age while in this state so technically I am
 immortal. Anyways that's beside the point of this story.

It was a typical morning for me. I would wake up and unfreeze time to see
the sun rising outside, just where I left off as normal. I would then get
up and get dressed and ready for work. Shower? check, Breakfast? check, brush
teeth? check, Suit? check Keys? check wallet? check, Rifle? check Oh? Did I
mention what the job actually was?

Technically I work for the government. When I was sixteen
I sat down and thought about who had the most authority in my
town, then I made the decision to tell the local police chief about my certain abilities.
In hopes I could get a job in some way. At first he laughed, as would any sensible person.
I decided to prove it too him by stopping time, taking his gun and then proceeding to go
 stand in the corner twirling it cowboy style around my finger. Of course this
almost got me shot I say almost because as soon as the deputy drew his gun I
proceeded to clear the entire station of weapons and drop them all at the
 poor police chiefs feet. It was stupid, I know but I was sixteen and absurdly
immature with my abilities. S.W.A.T was called, Detectives showed up, people
went crazy. They even called a HAZMAT team. I was quickly transported to an
 interrogation room, at my consent of course. Some guys in suits showed up just
 like in the movies and In six years I was working as a special operative. I went
anywhere they wanted me too and killed anyone they told me too. And then, at the
 end of the month, I would get payed 216,000 for my troubles.

This case wasn't very special. find this Chinese politician, set up shop across the
 street then take him out with one well placed bullet. After that retrieve the
bullet, bleach the DNA and get back to the plane. all in the blink of an eye.
The only time that I would spend in real time was when the bullet was flying.
So I did just that. as soon as I got off the plane I stopped time And started
walking towards my target 2.4 mile south south east into the bustling city. not to bad. It took me
forty five minutes to lug my rifle case to the building opposite of the mans
 hotel. Once there I sat on the roof waiting to see the face that was ingrained
in my memory from Briefing. 0800 hours that's when he was scheduled for pickup.
 0757 0758 0759 There! He was one minute early but I saw him anyways. There he
was, in the crowd. I stopped time and began setup of my M110. I unzipped the case
 to reveal all the parts of my instrument. I grabbed the cold black stock and barrel,
threading them together. Next was the scope, I clipped that on with a click and dialed it
to the correct distances. I set up my bipod on the concrete ledge and threaded my silencer
onto the end before setting it into position. I looked into the scope, My finger
lay next to the trigger, numb. I aimed. Moved my finger onto the cold steel of
the trigger. That's when something caught my eye, something glimmered.
"everyone is frozen" I thought to myself That's when I aimed up and saw on
the rooftop adjacent was someone else. moving, waiting, aiming. That's when
 I realised that the glimmer was a scope and that I was going to die.

title: [MF] I'm Special Special

question: How does the narrator describe themselves?

answer: The text indicates that they view their special power to stop time as their job title, not just the ability they possess.

critique: The answer could be clearer in its pronoun use.

critique: It is omitted that they view themselves as special, not genius special, nor short yellow bus special.

critique: The answer is inaccurate. The narrator views their special power as a gift, not a job title.

critique: The answer is not related to the question.

critique: The narrator's special power is not their job title.

critique: The passage doesn't say this. The narrator describes themself in the text and so the answer should reflect this in its wording rather than the function of their power.

text: The answer should mention that the narrator views themselves as "living a god's life" and that they are "special special" because of their ability to stop time.

refinement: The text indicates that they view their special power to stop time as their job title, not just the ability they possess.

question: What is the irony behind the fact of the case that the narrator called not very special?

answer: The fact that there were two separate teams with two different objectives to the case. And while they both thought they were equipped with better guns and equipment, it would be a split second matter that would decide that today, the tools wouldn't matter more than the man using the tools.

critique: This answer is confusing and doesn't really make sense.

critique: The narrator's case is not very special because he was killed.

critique: The answer is confusing and makes up its own plot.

critique: The answer is not related to the question.

critique: The answer is incorrect. It is not stated that there were two separate teams with two different objectives to the case.

text: The narrator assumes that he's completely safe since he stopped time. However, there's someone who's not affected by the narrator's ability, and the narrator realizes that he will die. That's the irony.

refinement: The fact that there were two separate teams with two different objectives to the case. And while they both thought they were equipped with better guns and equipment, it would be a split second matter that would decide that today, the tools wouldn't matter more than the man using the tools.

question: What would the narrator's life be if he hadn't gone to the police station to show them their special skill?

answer: If the narrator hadn't gone to the station to show them their special skill, they wouldn't be contracted by the government to become a special agent, allowing them to have their current special life.

critique: The narrator would still be able to stop time, but he wouldn't be a special agent.

critique: The narrator would still be special, just not working for the government.

critique: "their current special life" - is irrelevant and should be removed.

critique: "They wouldn't be contracted by the government to become a special agent" - there is no mention of being contracted into becoming a special agent.Rewrite the sentence to reflect the reality.

critique: The narrator would still be special, just not a special agent.

critique: "If the narrator hadn't gone to the station to show them their special skill, they wouldn't be contracted by the government to become a special agent, allowing them to have their current special life." - is incorrect. The narrator was already contracted by the government to become a special agent.

critique: The narrator would still have his special skill, but he wouldn't be a special agent.

critique: The job is the special life, not the ability.

text: The answer should mention that the narrator dies on the job, which would've been averted if they weren't a government agent.

refinement: If the narrator hadn't gone to the station to show them their special skill, they wouldn't be contracted by the government to become a special agent, allowing them to have their current special life.


text:
We owned the bottle the whole time we lived there, from the day we moved in. Nobody used it much; Devon and I have the basement to ourselves so we get our own fridge. He uses ketchup only with fries twice a month or so, while I myself am a Sriracha man. The thing most people don’t immediately realize when they move out of home is that the kitchen, a once magical and generous place that gratified you with instant food and satisfaction, on your own becomes a burdensome, dark and dingy room whose contents are always scarce and incompatible. Well, it was like that for us. We didn’t cook much, and we weren’t inclined to spend much time competing with the bugs for space in our cramped kitchen. We found out through the grapevine that our landlord was in fact a stubborn sort of miser who gutted, wired, and walled the house without any help. Help costs money to a man with no friends. In those slanted rooms we stood when we decided to thusly rename him slumlord.

I clearly remember once being a more naive high school version of my self, dreaming of the day life granted me autonomy, as if that somehow includes the skills necessary to live on one’s own. Those days, I imagined credulously that I would teach myself to cook great things once I had my own place. But too soon into university did work and school brandish their heavy burdens. In the sparse moments of freedom and idleness, time was a ration; something to be used on preservation rather than sacrificed on expansion (although I did get a build a sweet aquarium over the year, but that’s another story). As a result, neither of us cooked so much as grazed. For a whole week I ate raw hot dogs and carrots before I forced myself to buy apples and soup. No kind of gourmet, organic, free-range food of any sort tastes better than the apple that ends the drought of raw hot dogs. The lonely contents of our fridge were primarily condiments and take-away meals. There were all the compliments and additions we needed for a meal, but no meal itself. We had every colour of paint, but no brush.

One recurring disturbance that arose from the stochastic rearranging of our fridge’s contents  confused and frustrated me and Devon. Often without warrant, the kitchen door would refuse to stay shut. What seemed like a simple problem was mysteriously adamant. There was no resistance, no visible obstruction. No; this was a more subtle and cruel refusal, one that allowed the magnetic trim of the door to first kiss that of the refrigerator unit, then slowly pry the door away from its lover. The door would tease us by feigning closure, then mockingly swinging open.

The fridge drove us insane. We took out the drawers and the shelfs and readjusted the magnetic strips. Nothing worked. For poor students, keeping food from waste was a priority. Expiry dates no longer counted; in poverty and squalor, one’s nose becomes the sole and executive arbiter of food safety. Keeping the fridge closed and cool was more important to us than any homework we did that year. But no matter what we tried, the fridge would recurrently, as if on it’s own volition, switch its magnetic strip to repel mode. For the longest time we had no idea why or how the fridge door would patently remain open. The fridge seemed to have a mind of its own and, to some degree, we respected it. Accepting the fridge’s perseverance, we would concede defeat by wedging the broom against the wall and the door in a rocky cease-fire between the fridge’s will and our own. It was one of the things that made me apt to spend a little more on the place I’m living next year.

Nevertheless, for majority of the year the adamancy of the problem overcame us. It was not until later in second semester that my housemate figured out the cause. This happened on some otherwise unremarkable day in a week during which the fridge again decided to gape open. Excitedly, as one should when they solve some complex and demanding problem, he burst into my room. The width of his smile suggested that he won some sort of Nobel Prize. “Matt,” he managed, almost panting. “It was the ketchup.”

Bemused, I followed Devon to the kitchen to witness his solution. Talking with a mixture of excitement and relief, he explained: “When the ketchup sits inside the door, it pushes the door away if it’s turned horizontally. We have to keep it parallel with the door,” he said, and enacted his description in order to exhibit the difference.

What a marvel! I was beyond words. Such an easy solution to such a complex problem. It was certainly a relief, a simple fix to a pervasive and pestering issue. For the rest of the year, we lived in harmonious cohabitation with that fridge, albeit at the price of a few sour milk cartons and rotten oranges. However, throughout the constant reshuffling of cold cuts, hot dogs, cream cheese and yogurt, one item has been left unperturbed.
	The ketchup bottle, resilient and proud, stands proudly in claimed territory, a spot on the inside railing upon which it remains parallel to the door. It has earned the spot, through rigid victory over it’s supposed owners. It controlled harmony and restored balance to our kitchen on many occasions. It’s happiness controlled us. It was omnipotent. In the squalid darkness of our kitchen, we found a light in the Ketchup God, and we obeyed it.

title: [RF] Ketchup God

question: Why did the narrator and his roommate have such a love-hate relationship with their fridge?

answer: Their fridge would not stay shut, they disliked the color of their fridge, and their fridge's poor structural design upset them.

critique: The passage does not reveal anything about the color of their fridge.

critique: While the fridge's color may have been unattractive and it does not have the best structural design, this is not why the fridge was such a problem.

critique: The fridge's poor structural design is not mentioned in the passage.

critique: Their fridge had poor structural design.

critique: It is omitted that the fridge's magnetic strips would not stay aligned with the fridge door.

critique: The fridge's color is not mentioned in the passage.

critique: The answer is a bit inaccurate and it's best to formulate another response.

critique: The narrator didn't have a love-hate relationship with his fridge, his brother did.

critique: The fridge's structural design is not mentioned in the story.

critique: The fridge's color is not relevant to the question.

critique: The fridge's color is irrelevant to the story.


text:
[Pixabay, used with permission]

Source: Pixabay, used with permission

_“The art of leadership is saying no, not saying yes,”_ remarked former U.K. Prime Minister Tony Blair. _“It is very easy to say yes.”_

You don’t have to be a leader to wrestle with saying no. Regardless of role, responsibility, title, or position, many of us find ourselves wanting to decline a request for our time, but we don’t know how to say no assertively.

And yes, you can say no to a request, because a request is not a command. A request is an ask to which we can say "yes", "no" or make a counteroffer, while a command assumes an obligation. However, we often think of requests as commands, sometimes due to the tone in which the request is made, or a power differential, or our fear of the other person's reaction, or even a feeling of indebtedness.

Nevertheless, while we all know that “no” is a complete sentence when it comes to responding to a request, we often wrestle with being too passive (when we want to avoid conflict or hurt feelings), too aggressive (when we worry our needs will be ignored), or even passive-aggressive (when we’re feeling manipulated, punished or otherwise concerned that an honest or direct approach won’t work).

A passive approach to saying no might sound like _“Ok, I’ll do it…this time”_ when we don’t want to do it this time (or at all). Or it could sound like, “_Maybe I can”_ when you already know that you can’t or don’t want to say yes.

An aggressive reaction to a request for our time might range from asking _“Are you deaf? I said no!”_ to “_Not in a million years”_ or even _“What makes you think I would want to do that?”_

A passive-aggressive response can sound like _“Fine”_ (when you’re anything but). It can also sound like, _“Do I really have a choice?”_ It also shows up as _“I’ll get back to you”_ and you don’t, or _“Yeah, sure, I’ll be there”_ and then you “forget” to show up.

As much as we don’t want to disappoint, hurt or even anger our customers, clients, managers, direct reports, or friends and family, we can be assertive and firm in our no’s while being flexible enough to keep the door open for future yeses. This requires us to be clear and honest about our own needs and preferences (to do something else with our time and energy) while honoring the needs and preferences of others (to be heard, to feel appreciated, to stay connected, to avoid shame, to maintain their dignity in the face of rejection, etc.).

Here are 20 ways to say no assertively to a request for your time:

1.  Oh, I will be so disappointed to miss this! Thank you for asking me.
2.  While I would love to do that with you/for you, [insert type of priorities] preclude it. I hope you understand.
3.  I am so flattered that you asked but unfortunately I cannot do that. Can I help you brainstorm someone who might be able to help?
4.  Normally, I would say yes, but I have already committed to ________.
5.  Right now, I am saying no to all invitations (on this topic, at this timeframe, etc.). Here’s why…
6.  I need to decline, but I do hope you’ll keep me in mind for the future. Would you please reach out again?
7.  I try very hard not to make commitments I will likely need to cancel, and because of the timing here, I can imagine needing to cancel at the last minute, leaving you in a last-minute scramble to find someone else. Because of that, I need to say no.
8.  That sounds like a fantastic event/opportunity/cause, and I know that I will be sorry to miss it.
9.  I cannot attend in person, but I wonder how I can help in some other way. Can we brainstorm ideas?
10. Not this time, but thank you for thinking of me.
11. I am grateful for the opportunity and for you thinking of me. However, I am totally booked with commitments I made months ago.
12. I sit down with my calendar on Sundays. Would you please send me all of the information I need, and I’ll let you know on Monday if it works with my whole schedule?
13. I love the cause, and I am so glad you thought of me for it, but I simply can’t commit right now.
14. I can’t make a decision right now, and I don’t want to hold you up so feel free to ask someone else.
15. Not this time, but when’s the next opportunity available for something like this?
16. If only I had a clone so I could be in two places at once! Unfortunately, I can’t make it.
17. I am heads-down on a project right now, and won’t be coming up for air for the next [insert timeframe]. Can we plan to do something after that?
18. When do you need to know by? I ask because if it’s in the next {week/month/quarter], I will need to say no.
19. I’m not available, but I know someone who would love to be a part of it. May I connect you?
20. Thank you for asking me, and I know you asked me because you thought I’d enjoy it/it would be a good fit for me/opportunity. For the future, I want you to know that this isn’t the kind of thing I’m likely to do. However, I would love to tell you what I tend to yes to. Can I share that with you?

question: What does the text say about the art of leadership?

answer: The art of leadership is saying no, not saying yes. It is very easy to say yes.

critique: The answer omits the reason why it is easy to say yes.

critique: The answer should mention that Tony Blair said this.

critique: The answer should mention that the text is about how to say no.

critique: The answer should mention the quote from Tony Blair.

critique: The answer could mention that Tony Blair says this.

critique: The answer should mention that the text is about saying no.

text: The answer should note that the critical part of saying no is being assertive about it without becoming aggressive or passive-aggressive.

question: What does the text say about being passive-aggressive?

answer: The text says that being passive-aggressive might show up as "I'll get back to you" and then you don't, or "Yeah, sure, I'll be there" and then you "forget" to show up.

critique: The answer should mention that being passive-aggressive is a way of saying no without being direct.

critique: The response is missing the part where the author says that being passive-aggressive is when you're anything but.

critique: The answer should mention that being passive-aggressive can also sound like "Fine".

critique: The answer should mention that being passive-aggressive is a way to say no without saying no.

critique: It is omitted that avoidant responses of passive-aggressive behaviors occur when an honest or direct approach to decline something won't work out.

critique: The answer should mention that being passive-aggressive is not assertive.

critique: The response should include a definition of the term.

critique: The response misses to mention that being passive-aggressive is when you’re feeling manipulated, punished, or otherwise concerned that an honest or direct approach won’t work.

question: What are some ways to say no to a request of your time?

answer: Some ways to say no are to be assertive, clear and honest about your own needs.

critique: The text points out details not of the saying no, but of what to say.

critique: The answer should include the 20 ways to say no.

critique: The answer should mention the ways to say no.

critique: The response is missing the ways to say no.

critique: The answer should mention the 20 ways to say no.

critique: It's omitted that you can be firm in your no's while being flexible enough to keep the door open for future yeses.

question: What does the text say about communication?

answer: The text says that it is important to be clear and honest about your own needs and preferences while honoring the needs and preferences of others. The author suggests that you can be assertive and firm in your no's while being flexible enough to keep the door open for future yeses.

critique: The answer should mention the importance of saying no.

critique: Add in that you can say no to a request and that a request is not a command.

critique: The answer should mention the ways to say no.

critique: It's omitted that saying no is still a complete sentence.

critique: The answer omits what the text says about communication.


text:
[Ludendorff in 1918] The _TANNENBERGBUND_ (, Tannenberg Union, TB) was a nationalist German political society formed in September 1925 at the instigation of Konstantin Hierl under the patronage of the former German Army general Erich Ludendorff. Part of the Völkisch movement, it was meant to counteract the _Der Stahlhelm_ veterans association as well as the reorganized _Sturmabteilung_ (SA) of the Nazi Party. The TB failed to meet the goal of a far-right collective movement and sank into insignificance long before it was officially banned by the Nazi authorities in September 1933.

Founding

During Germany's early Weimar period, Ludendorff had joined the chauvinist Aufbau Vereinigung and met with Adolf Hitler through the agency of Max Erwin von Scheubner-Richter.[1] He participated in Hitler's failed Beer Hall Putsch on 9 November 1923, after which their relationship deteriorated increasingly. While Ludendorff despised the former 'corporal', he nevertheless backed the National Socialist Freedom Movement and ran for the Nazi Party in the 1925 Presidential election against his former Oberste Heeresleitung colleague Paul von Hindenburg.

Hitler feared the possibility of Ludendorff as a potential leadership rival and rejoiced in the General's derisory election result, telling Hermann Esser “now we've finally finished him”.[2] With his credibility severely damaged by the election result, Ludendorff drifted from the Nazi Party and joined his wife Mathilde von Kemnitz in setting up the Tannenbergbund, with the organisation taking its name from the 1914 Battle of Tannenberg, one of Ludendorff's greatest military triumphs.[3]

Development

The Tannenbergbund soon developed as largely a circle of former officers who had served under Ludendorff in World War I.[4] In terms of ideology the Bund largely concentrated on those whom it opposed, attacking Freemasons, Jews, communists and Jesuits and accusing them of conspiracy.[5] Such people were lumped in together as “die überstaatlichen Mächte” or “the powers above the state”.[6] The Bund became a prolific producer of conspiracy literature, although they were openly rejected by the growing Nazi movement, for whom some of the Bund's more wild ideas were even too fancifully conspiratorial.[7] Central also to their ideas was an occultist vision inspired by the Thule Society to which Ludendorff had been introduced by his wife. As such, the Bund presented history as a struggle between the Nordic hero and the three-way alliance of the Jew, Catholic and Freemason.[8] As a consequence, members of the Bund were expected to abandon Christianity and turn to the old Nordic gods.[9]

Decline and suppression

The Tannenbergbund initially enjoyed support amongst rural political movements in Schleswig-Holstein, although it never presented a serious challenge to the Nazis.[10] Among surviving senior officers of the Kaiserreich, Ludendorff's politics were viewed with a mixture of skepticism and disbelief. Field Marshal August von Mackensen, who had commanded an army corps at Tannenberg, wrote that “der Mann ist krank” (the man is sick).[11] Similarly, Paul von Hindenburg had no truck with the Tannenbergbund as he and Ludendorff had been estranged since the 1925 election, culminating in the two not shaking hands and Hindenburg snubbing Ludendorff's speech at the dedication of a Battle of Tannenberg memorial in 1927.[12] Given its composition of more junior officers loyal to Ludendorff, the Tannenbergbund failed to win over the support of the masses, and before long it lost a number of members to the Nazi Party.[13] The Tannenbergbund was banned as soon as Hitler came to power,[14] although the group carried on until Ludendorff's death in 1937 before finally being suppressed by Hitler's government.[15]

[1]

[2] I. Kershaw, _Hitler 1889-1936 Hubris_, London: Penguin, 1999, pp. 268-9

[3] L.L. Snyder, _Encyclopedia of the Third Reich_, Ware: Wordsworth, 1998, p. 341

[4] Snyder, op cit

[5] Kershaw, op cit, p. 269

[6] Snyder, op cit, p. 342

[7] Kershaw, op cit

[8] K.D. Bracher, _The German Dictatorship_, Harmondsowrth: Penguin, 1971, p. 170

[9] J Wolschke-Bulmahn, The Nationalization of Nature and the Naturalization of the German Nation

[10] Rudolf Heberle, 'The Political Movements Among the Rural People in Schleswig-Holstein, 1918 to 1932, I', _The Journal of Politics_, Vol. 5, No. 1 (Feb., 1943), pp. 3-26

[11] Theo Schwarzmüller, _Zwischen Kaiser und “Führer”. Generalfeldmarschall August von Mackensen. Eine politische Biographie._ Munich: Deutsche Taschenbuch Verlag, 1995, p. 235.

[12] John Wheeler-Bennett, _The Wooden Titan: Hindenburg_, London: Archon books, 1963, pp. 315-316

[13] Snyder, op cit

[14] L. Poliakov, _The History of Anti-Semitism_, University of Pennsylvania Press, 2003, p. 159

[15] Bracher, op cit

title: Tannenbergbund

question: Summarize the relationship between Ludendorff and Hitler.

answer: Ludendorff was a former German Army general who joined the chauvinist Aufbau Vereinigung and met with Hitler through the agency of Max Erwin von Scheubner-Richter. Ludendorff participated in Hitler's failed Beer Hall Putsch. After the failed coup, Ludendorff's relationship with Hitler deteriorated. Hitler feared Ludendorff as a potential leadership rival and rejoiced in the General's derisory election result.

critique: "Ludendorff participated in Hitler's failed Beer Hall Putsch." - this is incorrect. Ludendorff was part of the failed coup.

critique: The answer omits that Ludendorff joined the Nazi Party and ran for the 1925 Presidential election.

critique: "Ludendorff participated in Hitler's failed Beer Hall Putsch." - is incorrect. Ludendorff did not participate in Hitler's failed Beer Hall Putsch.

critique: It is omitted that Ludendorff formed the Tannenbergbund.

critique: It's omitted that Ludendorff joined the Tannenbergbund.

critique: The answer omits that Ludendorff was a member of the Nazi Party.

critique: "After the failed coup, Ludendorff's relationship with Hitler deteriorated" is inaccurate.

question: Summarize the beliefs of the Tannenbergbund.

answer: The Tannenbergbund believed that Freemasons, Jews, communists, and Jesuits were conspiring against the German state. The Bund believed history was a struggle between the Nordic hero and the three-way alliance of the Jew, Catholic, and Freemason. The Bund also believed that members of the Bund were expected to abandon Christianity and turn to the old Nordic gods.

critique: The answer could mention that the Bund believed in an occultist vision inspired by the Thule Society.

critique: The last sentence is not relevant to the question.

critique: Phrasing: The people targeted/accused of conspiring against the German state are to be placed within either commas or a conjunction.

critique: "The Bund believed history was a struggle between the Nordic hero and the three-way alliance of the Jew, Catholic, and Freemason." - this is incorrect. The Bund believed history was a struggle between the Nordic hero and the three-way alliance of the Jew, Catholic, and Freemason.

critique: The answer should mention the occultist vision inspired by the Thule Society.

critique: The answer should mention their anti-Christian beliefs.

critique: "The Bund believed history was a struggle between the Nordic hero and the three-way alliance of the Jew, Catholic, and Freemason." - this is inaccurate. The Bund believed that history was a struggle between the Nordic hero and the three-way alliance of the Jew, Catholic, and Freemason.

question: Summarize the Tannenbergbund's downfall.

answer: The Organization failed to meet its goal of a far-right collective movement. All the principal members left, culminating in its ultimate forced dissolution. It disappeared into insignificance well before 1933.

critique: It is omitted that the group lost a number of members to the Nazi Party.

critique: "All the principal members left" seems inaccurate and misleading.

critique: "All the principal members left" is inaccurate.

critique: The question asks for the downfall of the Tannenbergbund, not its failure to meet its goals.

critique: The answer omits the role of Hitler in the Tannenbergbund's downfall.

critique: The answer should mention the Nazi party.

question: What does the article say about the Tannenbergbund's role in World War II?

answer: No answer

critique: The article does have something to say about the Tannenbergbund's role in World War II.

critique: The article does not mention anything about the Tannenbergbund's role in World War II.

critique: The article does not mention the Tannenbergbund's role in World War II.