text:
The tears of the woods

Like every Sunday, the woods were waiting for the man and the child. It was during this time of the year that the hikes of the pair became more regular. You could see them climb up the path early in the morning, when the sun behind the mountain barely managed to filter through the golden trees, which had already started to lose their leaves. Or later in the afternoon, when the light flooded the mountain with a red more intense than the color of the few remaining maple leaves playing hide and seek among the oaks.

Only a couple of the older trees, over there, in the tangle of the interiors, remembered perhaps the first time that a man of that family had come up this way. The man was walking and touching the trees and brushing his feet to make the leaves squeak and fly, creating odd effects with the lights and swirls with the help of the wind. After a few years of lonely walks, the man had started to come together with a child. The two of them walked, the child holding the man’s hand at first, slowly and painfully; then with increased agility as the years passed. And the man was showing the boy the leaves, and calling the names of the trees, pointing at the birds, telling stories of witches and dragons that had long ago lived in those woods, and that maybe – who could deny this with certainty? – were still hiding there, appearing only to those who were afraid.

When autumn arrived, the pair gave the impression to choose the paths where the leaves on the ground were plentiful. And the cracking noise made by their joyful and purposeful stomping filled the terse air.

The years passed, and that first man had time to become old, his beard white, while the boy became a man. But they kept on walking together up these woods, sometimes silent, sometimes playing the fallen leaves as an instrument, with their feet. Then, one day, the man who had been a boy came on his own, without the old man. Still, he followed the same paths, caressing the old barks, following the plants’ scents…until a new boy appeared with the man, holding hands, up the same roads. And the woods were listening to the man telling the boy the same stories of dragons and witches. And in the rapt eyes of the boy, the woods felt as if they were young again: every bark was new, every leaf a symbol of knights of old lineages fighting for princesses; and every broken twig a sword strong enough to defeat monsters.

And so it went, for years and years: until the boys became man, the men grew old, and the new men showed up on the paths alone again. And new boys appeared next to the new men, with new stories of dragons and knights, in a cycle whose length the woods could not quantify, but that it had become an important part of its seasons.

And today the woods are waiting: the man and the boy didn’t come last week, and the woods are trying to retain their colored leaves as long as possible, so that they can cast their shadow over the path of the pair, and fabricate wonder in the mind of the boy, swirling down touching his golden hair.

And here is the footstep of the man, and the woods move their fronds with delight. But a quiver comes to ruin the joy. The woods cannot hear the footsteps of the boy: perhaps the man has him on his shoulders?

The wind brings the news from the valley floor, up until the trees that are waiting on the mountain peak: *the man is alone*. The first trees already saw him coming: he walks curved, as if in his backpack a heavy ballast of years yet to live had suddenly accumulated. But the boy is not with him.

The woods are angry: where is the boy who should have been accompanying the man for many years to come, to learn the secrets of these trees, to make sure that the story of invincible dragons didn’t dry out, forgotten, as dead leaf at the end of November?

And yet the man *is* walking alone. And he doesn’t stop to caress the old barks; nor does he stir up the dead leaves that the woods had purposely hastened this morning to shake from the trees’ branches, to please the boy.

The man pushes forward. His beard is long, gray like the hair on a muzzle of an old dog, his hat down on his forehead. He doesn’t pay attention to the sky veiled by the leaves, nor does he care about the tunnels of lights that reach the floor. And he doesn’t explain to the woods why he is alone.

Suddenly, fast clouds come to darken the sky and the wind shakes the branches of the trees rabidly, as if the woods had called upon the wind’s aid to punish the man for his solitude. The tenderness that the wind had used in the past, to make sure that the boy stopped in awe at the sight of a rain of yellow and red and orange is gone.

Maliciously, the wind channels down the path, cold, running over the man with strength, tearing away branches, throwing them at him. And yet the man keeps on going, head down. Tears seem to obscure his vision, perhaps caused by the strong wind; but the wind is too enraged to even notice.

And the trees of the woods keep on asking loudly *where is the boy? Who will we tell our stories of dragons?* But the man – who had always been able to talk the language of the woods – does not answer. He continues to walk, even now that the rain manages to pass through the branches and hits the ground with a noisy clatter.

A sudden strong noise (a broken branch hitting the ground? One of those monsters that his dead father used to talk about?) forces the man to look for shelter.  Away from the path, he sits down with his back against a huge oak, covered by the thick branches that create a cone of quietude against the impending storm.

And it seems as if the oak is trying to pull its branches closer to stop the rain from hitting the man, as if the rage of the woods had suddenly morphed into compassion. While the man lies there, leaning with his eyes closed. Is he asleep? Or is he intent in listening to the tears of the woods for his lost boy?

title: The tears of the woods - first story here

question: What does the story say about the son's absence?

answer: The woods are angry because the boy isn't there. They are angry because the man was supposed to come with the boy, to tell him the stories of dragons and witches, teach him the secrets of the trees. The woods are angry because the man is walking alone and doesn't answer them when they ask where the boy is. The woods are angry because the man doesn't explain to them why he's alone. The man continues walking, even when the wind turns into a storm, and the trees cry for their lost boy.

critique: Everything before the final sentence is irrelevant to the question.

critique: The response is missing that the man is the one who is missing the boy.

text: The coverage is good but the language lacks flow, starting with the same words over and over

question: What does the story say about family?

answer: The man and the boy are a family. The man shows the boy the woods and tells him stories of witches and dragons. The man and the boy walk the same path every year. The man and the boy's father walk the same path every year. The man and the boy's son walks the same path every year. The man and the boy's grandson walks the same path every year.

critique: The man and the boy's grandson doesn't walk the same path every year.

critique: The response contains inaccurate information.

text: The answer is confusing and the word structure is not great starting with the same phrase every time

question: What does the story say about the narrator?

answer: No answer

critique: No information is given about the narrator.

critique: The answer should mention that the narrator is the woods.


split: train

text:
Ryan awoke to a sharp odor. He felt as if it was biting the inside of his septum. Other than the smell he was unable to sense anything. All he could see was darkness. He tried to touch his fingers to his palms but felt nothing.

For several minutes Ryan pondered his situation. Could he still be dreaming? He didn’t feel as if he was in a dream, rather he felt as if he had been sleeping for days but was finally awake. He had heard of a condition called “sleep paralysis”. Perhaps this was causing his lack of sensation, but why then could he not see the faint glow of his alarm clock or the whizzing of the cars going past his downtown studio apartment.

After what felt like hours, Ryan’s anxiety began to build. “Could I have had a stroke in my sleep? Is that why I can’t feel anything?” Ryan asked himself further elevating his already high blood pressure. Just as Ryan was coming to grips with his own impending demise he started smelling something else, almost like a frying hamburger.

“FUCK!” Ryan cried. All of the sudden he could feel intense pain coursing throughout his entire body. It felt as if all of his muscles had just been pounded by a meat tenderizer. His feeling had certainly returned, however any attempt at moving was met with even sharper pain.

Ryan could sense a fine mist spraying his body. This is when he realized he was naked. His sense of sight and hearing were returning. He could hear a faint hum, like that of a microwave. He saw shadows in front him of what looked like people, stumbling around. The realization that he was not in his apartment, lying in his own bed had sunk in.

The pain began to subside, replaced with a dull numbness that Ryan prefered. He took a step forward, pushing the tinted glass door in front of him. He could now hear screaming.
As he walked out into the large circular chamber he could see fifty or sixty men and women, naked like him, stumbling around, shouting and crying;

“Help!”

“Where the hell am I?”

“What is this?”

“Let me out of here!”

Ryan tried to form the words “I’m cold” but was unable to get enough breath behind his speech. He saw hundreds of capsules surrounding him. The chamber was lined with them, stacked over several stories. Most had their glass openings ajar, although a few people still seemed to be emerging from the walls.
On the other side of the chamber was a large arched opening. Ryan could see groups of people heading in that direction, so he followed. As he got closer he noticed he felt warmer and warmer. As he neared his destination he began to feel almost comfortable with the temperature despite not wearing any clothing. He entered the opening and saw people streaming into an even larger chamber from various doors in all directions. At the center of the room were two ramps going to a second and third floor. A older man stood between the ramps. Giving orders.

“Girls head up the left ramp, guys up the right”.

Ryan headed towards the man. Now able to speak he asked him.

“Who are you? Where am I?”

“I know less than you do, please just head up the ramp, I’m just trying to create some order.”

Hearing him speak, Ryan realized he knew who this man was. He was his journalism professor, sans his usual twenty-five year old grey suit making him almost unrecognizable.

“Professor Harper?”

“Hello Mr. Stein. Please go up the ramp”.

title: Wake Up

question: Summarize Ryan's movements over the course of the story.

answer: Ryan wakes up naked, unable to feel or see anything. He tries to move, but is met with sharp pain. He tries the door and walks out into a large circular chamber. He follows others into an even larger chamber.

critique: The answer should mention that Ryan is naked.

critique: The answer omits the fact that Ryan walks up a ramp and into a room with his journalism professor.

critique: The story does not specify that he walks out into the large circular chamber.

question: Summarize the physical sensations Ryan feels over the course of the story.

answer: Ryan feels a sharp odor at the beginning of the story. He feels pain throughout his entire body. He feels a dull numbness. He feels warm and comfortable.

critique: The answer omits The end of the story is missing.

text: It would be better to specify the time in which Ryan feels each sensation. Ex) "Ryan first feels a sharp odor"

category: coherence

question: Summarize the story's references to medical conditions.

answer: Ryan wonders if he has had a stroke in his sleep. He also wonders if he has sleep paralysis.

critique: The answer should mention that Ryan is naked.

critique: Ryan is naked, which suggests that he has not had a stroke.

question: What does the story say about the field of journalism?

answer: No answer

critique: The answer should include that the story does not mention anything about the field of journalism.

critique: The story does not have any information about the field of journalism.

critique: This answer is absolutely incorrect and the model needs to go back and rewrite the answer effectively.

critique: The answer should mention that the story doesn't mention anything about the field of journalism.

critique: The answer should mention that the story does not mention anything about the field of journalism.


text:
ST JOHN'S JERUSALEM or SUTTON-AT-HONE PRECEPTORY is a National Trust property at Sutton-at-Hone, Kent, England which includes the 13th century chapel of the Knights Hospitaller and a garden moated by the River Darent. It is open to the public on Wednesday afternoons from April to October.

History

It was established in 1199 as a Commandry of the Knights Hospitaller of the Order of Saint John of Jerusalem until it was sold to Sir Maurice Denys, the Receiver of the Order at the time of the Dissolution. The mediaeval sections of the property were predominantly constructed around 1234, when Henry III procured the felling of five oak trees from Tonbridge Forest. By 1388, the property had ceased to be used as a preceptory.[1]

Naturalist Abraham Hill established an orchard here in 1670, with apples and pears from Herefordshire and Devon that were used for making cider and perry. Varieties that were introduced into Kent as a result included the Kentish Pippin.[2] From 1755 it was the home of the county historian of Kent, Edward Hasted.[3] His excessive expenditure on the property may have been responsible for his bankruptcy in 1796, and subsequent term of imprisonment of five years.[4]

The building was given to the nation in 1943 by Sir Stephen Tallents, and was open to the public twice a week in the 1950s.[5][6] The property has been a Grade II* listed building since 1 August 1952[7] and was scheduled under the Ancient Monuments and Archaeological Areas Act 1979 as a site of national importance by the Secretary of State for National Heritage on 5 September 1994.[8] It is now let from the National Trust as a private residence. Public access is to the chapel and garden only.

Priors of the Hospital

Radyngton, John, fl 1396[9]

Weston, John, fl. 1485[10]

Grounds

[St John's Jerusalem's moat] The moat dates from the 13th century,[11] and surrounds an artificial island of 22,200m². The moat is bridged three times, including by a Grade II listed 19th century brick footbridge. The grounds contain a Cedar of Lebanon.[12] Only the south-western section of the moat is part of the River Darent.[13] The moat has, however, suffered from environmental problems. It ran dry in both 1976 and 1988 and was affected by sedimentation and pollution after a recent dredging of the Darent.[14] The dredging was attempted in order to foster the appearance of a 1930s Country Life setting. However, it had to be halted after it was discovered that scheduled monument consent had not been obtained. Although it was subsequently granted, the sustainability of such techniques has been called into question.[15]

The garden also hosts a former fishpond, now occupied by marshlands.[16] Before the Dissolution of the Monasteries, the lawn to the north of the property was used as burial ground for the chapel, but thereafter as a midden.[17]

[1]

[2] E. Hasted, “Parishes: Sutton-at-Hone”, _The History and Topographical Survey of the County of Kent: Volume 2_ (1797), pp. 343–367. (Accessed: 22 May 2011).

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6] R. Cary, “[https://www.jstor.org/stable/870464?seq=2&Search=yes&searchText=%22st+john%27s+jerusalem%22&list=hide&searchUri=%2Faction%2FdoBasicSearch%3FQuery%3D%2522st%2Bjohn%2527s%2Bjerusalem%2522%26gw%3Djtx%26prq%3Dsutton-at-hone%26Search%3DSearch%26hp%3D25%26wc%3Don&prevSearch=&item=15&ttl=19&returnArticleService=showFullText&resultsServiceName=null Country Houses Open to the Public]”, _The Burlington Magazine_ Vol. 93, No. 578 (London, May 1951), p. 175.

[7]

[8]

[9] Plea Rolls of the Court of Common Pleas; National Archives; CP541; http://aalt.law.uh.edu/AALT6/R2/CP40no541a/aCP40no541afronts/IMG_0615.htm; third entry; "ffrat' Johes Radynton, prio' hospital' sct Johis Jerl'm in Angl' "

[10] Plea Rolls of the Court of Common Pleas; National Archives; CP 40/891 ; first entry in http://aalt.law.uh.edu/AALT3/R3/CP40no891/aCP40no891fronts/IMG_0085.htm ;

[11]

[12]

[13]

[14]

[15] National Trust, _Sediment Management & Dredging in Lakes: A report based on a workshop held at Arlington Court, Devon_ (K. Hearn, J. Flanders & T. Phillips (eds)) (Cirencester, 2002), pp. 9–10.

[16]

[17] N. Bannister, “Kent & East Sussex”, _Annual Archaeological Review 1999-2000_ (National Trust (ed.)) (London, 2001), p. 41.

title: St John's Jerusalem

question: Summarize the history of the St. John's Jerusalem, according to the text.

answer: The St. John's Jerusalem was established in 1199 and was a Commandry of the Knights Hospitaller of the Order of Saint John of Jerusalem. It was sold in 1543 to Sir Maurice Denys, Receiver of the Order at the time of the Dissolution. The mediaeval sections of the property were predominantly constructed around 1234, when Henry III procured the felling of five oak trees from Tonbridge Forest. The property was used as a preceptory until 1388. The building was given to the nation in 1943 by Sir Stephen Tallents and was open to the public twice a week in the 1950s. The building was listed as a Grade II* in 1952 and was scheduled under the Ancient Monuments and Archaeological Areas Act 1979 as a site of national importance in 1994.

critique: The year of the Dissolution is incorrect.

critique: The text does not mention the year 1543.

critique: The answer is incorrect in several ways. The text does not say when the building was given to the nation. The text does not say when the building was open to the public. The text does not say when the building was listed as a Grade II*. The text does not say when the building was scheduled under the Ancient Monuments and Archaeological Areas Act 1979 as a site of national importance.

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

critique: The answer is a copy-and-paste of the article. It should be rewritten.

critique: The date of the Dissolution is not given in the text

critique: The answer is a copy-paste of the article.

question: Summarize some interest facts about St. John's Jerusalem, as written in the text.

answer: The chapel of the Knights Hospitaller is a 13th century building. There is a moated garden that surrounds the chapel, and a former fishpond. The garden also hosts a former fishpond, now occupied by marshlands.

critique: The answer omits the history of the chapel and the moated garden.

critique: Remove the repetition of the phrase "former fishpond"

critique: The garden and fishpond are not separate features.

critique: "The chapel of the Knights Hospitaller is a 13th century building." - it would be better to include the name of the building or where it is to further elaborate. Also, include that the building is over 700 years old, as per some media information.

question: Would St. John's Jerusalem be a great wedding venue?

answer: It is possible that St. John's Jerusalem would be a great wedding venue. It has a chapel and a garden moated by the River Darent.

critique: The article does not mention anything about weddings.

critique: The answer should be more specific about the wedding venue.

critique: Depends on what type of wedding one is planning. Literal readings are probably better.

critique: The question is not asking for possibilities, but for the likelihood of something.

critique: The question is not asking for the history, but if the site would make a good wedding venue. The answer should reflect this.


text:
On April 18th, a broadcast appeared on the television before me, and my breath hitched. Everything around me stopped: the people crossing the road while maybe I should be as well, or maybe my legs were moving without me realizing it? I’d become petrified.

My best friend, Aidan, had been found dead in his bedroom from an overdose of sleeping pills. Seeing his face so blissful on the screen made everything around me rampantly snap back to reality, and I felt overwhelmed. All I could do was walk in whatever general direction I thought home was.

	It’s funny, really: whenever someone chooses to bring their own life to an end, they always seem so happy in the images the news channel decides to add in. It’s fake; if they were pushed to that point, the person was never truly that happy around then.

                   ~Three Years Ago~

“Ness, are you okay?” a boy with choppy black hair sat down beside me while I’d bawled my eyes out on the bench. “N-no, my puppy died… He got hit trying to chase me to the bus stop,” the thought had made me cry even more. He sat in silence for a bit, before jumping up and dragging me toward town. “W-what?!” I was so dishevelled; I didn’t want anyone to see me. “C’mon! If you’re sad, I’ll distract you!” Aidan smiled like he believed in everything he said. That everything would always work out.

The death of my puppy had felt so implacable at that time, like nothing else could ever hurt more. I’ve never been so wrong – Aidan was so stoical whenever I’d seen him; it was like the only emotion he ever felt was contentedness. Even when his grandfather had passed away he had only frowned and then remained optimistic for his grandfather’s afterlife.

A few times, I had tried to get under Aidan’s skin to see if he was hiding any negativity underneath. I always quickly gave up, however, because he would always find ways to prove to me that everything was okay. Looking back, I really should have pushed a little harder to satisfy my qualms. Evidently, something was disturbing him. I wondered how well Aidan slept at night. Then again, he was there whenever I’d texted because I was really down and out, no matter how early in the morning it was.

I felt so betrayed… I’d even tried to emulate Aidan on a few occasions, because he had an aptitude for cheering people up and brightening the mood. Memories kept coming back to me even when I tried my best to push them out. No matter where I turned or how much the falling rain blocked my sight, I kept seeing Aidan standing there in the places we’d once frequented. I just don’t understand. What was he lacking? I doubt it was sustenance; his home life was great: Aidan’s parents are wonderful people. They even treated me as if I were their second daughter. Aidan was well-liked in school, too, by students and professors alike. His future was so propitious.

I had a nightmare tonight about finding Aidan’s body full of blood, and even then he was still smiling, telling me he would be okay. I screamed because the sight was just too unbelievable, and then all of a sudden my surroundings changed. I was surrounded by mirrors, and Aidan was reflected, smiling just like always. Then I lost it. I frantically smashed every mirror I could find until I realized they were endless, which led to me waking up in bed. Too nerved up to fall back to sleep, I wandered downstairs and found a note in front of the living room mirror. I picked it up.

“Vanessa, I am so, so sorry… if you don’t know what I’m apologizing for, you will soon. Even if you resent me for this, I just want you to know that I’m okay. I’ll be okay, wherever I go. I won’t forget you; it wasn’t anyone’s fault so please don’t let anyone feel responsible. Know that it wasn’t because you didn’t try hard enough to question me because I wouldn’t have told you anyway. It’s just something that couldn’t be helped… I’ll be happier now.
I love you. ~ Aidan. April 17th, 10:42 p.m.

I couldn’t find the words to express how I was feeling. I just stared into the mirror before me, until my reflection cracked and tears streamed down both sides of my cheeks, dropping onto the floor and shattering like glass.

    “At least you’re happy, Aidan… good–bye.”
Maybe I’ll see you again, someday.

title: Flash-Back Short [Emotional] ( My Girlfriend has wrote this and wants thoughts on it )

question: How did the narrator cope from her best friend overdosing on sleeping pills?

answer: She was devastated and felt betrayed.

critique: The answer could mention the note Aidan left.

question: What voicemail did Aidan leave to the narrator?

answer: A voicemail from Aidan to the narrator was left up, with his last words before dying from an overdose. He0000made sure to tell her not to blame her, as he was making the decision on his own. Additionally, he also told her he would be okay in the future, and he would never forget her, finally saying his signature “I love you".

critique: "He0000made sure to tell her not to blame her, as he was making the decision on his own." - this is incorrect. Aidan didn't say anything about not blaming her.

text: The response should point out that Aidan left a note, not a voicemail. Several parts of the response are also inaccurate.

category: accuracy

question: What relationship would Aidan's parents and the narrator have?

answer: It appears they were friends.

critique: The narrator and Aidan's parents were not friends.

critique: The text does not give any indication as to what their relationship was.

text: Aidan's parents treated the narrator like their second daughter.


text:
The MANIS MASTODON SITE is a archaeological site on the Olympic Peninsula near Sequim, Washington, United States. During the dig, the remains of an American mastodon were recovered which had a 13,800 year old projectile[1] made of the bone from a different mastodon embedded in its rib. The site was placed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1978.

History

On August 8, 1977, a farmer named Emanuel Manis was digging his property with a backhoe when he found the tusks of an American mastodon.[2] An archaeological excavation led by Dr. Carl Gustafson of Washington State University found a rib bone that had what appeared to be a spear point made from the bone of a different mastodon embedded in it. The point had bone growth around it, indicating that it had not caused the mastodon's death.[3] Gustafson deemed it the earliest known evidence of interaction between humans and mastodons in the Americas. However, there was debate,[4] because of the lack of indisputable proof that the point was made by humans.[5] This situation changed in 2011, when a new study of the remains definitively concluded that Gustafson was right as to both the age and the human origin of the point.[6] Gustafson also analyzed the position of the [7] fossil, which was lying on its left side, while the heavily fragmented skull was rotated 180 degrees from its natural position. Noting that this could not have occurred due to natural causes Gustafson deduced that the carcass must have been tampered with by humans.[8] Archaeologists were surprised to find a mastodon in the area at all because pollen samples that were taken showed no evidence of trees, which mastodons fed on.[9]

In an excavated layer above the mastodon, as well as that of a 6,700-year-old deposit of ash from the eruption of Mount Mazama, a projectile-point was found in the style of Coastal Olcott points common in the area no earlier than 9,000 years ago.[10]

The site also turned up remains of caribou, bison, and plant macrofossils.[11] Bones of the bison showed evidence of butchering by humans.[12] The pollen found in the same layer as the mastodon was predominantly sedge and cattail, while other layers contained that of plants ranging from Canadian buffaloberry, blackberry and wild rose, to willow and alder.[13]

Gustafson continued to excavate at the site for eight years, finding the partial remains of two more mastodons. Though stone tools and artifacts of bone were found, Gustafson failed to find evidence of an encampment by the people theorized to have butchered the mastodons.[14]

Prior to the excavation at the Manis site, which was dated before 12,000 years ago,[15] archaeological sites west of the Cascade Range considered to be early were aged between 9,000 and 6,000 years old.[16]

During the years of excavation, Clare and Emanuel Manis welcomed over 50,000 visitors to the site. In 1978, when the site was added to the National Register of Historic Places, Senator Henry M. Jackson made the announcement.[17] In 2002, on the 25th anniversary of the discovery, Manis' widow donated the site to the National Archaeological Conservancy.[18] The fossil remains of the mastodon were donated to the Sequim Museum & Arts in Sequim and are now on display. A casting of the bone projectile point is also on display.

[Manis Mastodon, Cast of Rib with Embedded Object; The rib bone holds an object that is embedded 0.75 inches deep, and tapers to a point. The wound is thought to be a penetration fracture showing several months of healing. Museum and Arts Center, Sequim, Washington.|alt=A photograph of about five inches of a long, narrow bone. The break is jagged. At one end a spiky piece of a different material protrudes from the bone. The bone is on a grey backer with a plaque beneath it with some text explaining the embedded spear point..]

In Oct. 2011, the Center of the Study of the First Americans (CSFA), Anthropology Department at Texas A&M University published findings from DNA tests, CT scans and radiocarbon dating on the mastodon and the spear point. The CT scan clearly established the spear point had been sharpened to a needle point by human hands. Four radiocarbon dates yielded an age of 13,860-13,763 calendar years BP.

Since the 1950s, archaeologists have believed the Clovis people were the first human inhabitants of North America and that they lived here 13,000 years ago. However the discovery of sites pre-dating Clovis, such as Monte Verde in Chile and Meadowcroft Rockshelter in Pennsylvania, have been challenging this presumption at least since the 1990s.[19] The Manis Mastodon Site is 800 years older than the Clovis people. This site, among others, is helping to change the long-held beliefs of many archaeologists about the earliest human inhabitants of North America. The Manis Mastodon Site remains the oldest archaeological site on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State and one of the oldest in North America.

In November 2011, Shirley Manis, daughter of discoverer Emanuel Manis, authored the first and only children's picture book about the Manis Mastodon Site, which includes the most recent research analysis.[20]

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]

[10]

[11]

[12]

[13]

[14]

[15]

[16]

[17]

[18]

[19] Meltzer (2009)

[20] Shirley Manis, In a Scoop of Dirt - How Digging a Pond Changed North America's Prehistory, 2011.

title: Manis Mastodon Site

question: What does the text say about the discovery of the site?

answer: The site was discovered by Emanuel Manis in 1977 when he was digging his property with a backhoe. He found the tusks of an American mastodon. Dr. Carl Gustafson of Washington State University led an excavation and found a rib bone that had a spear point made from the bone of a different mastodon embedded in it. The point had bone growth around it, indicating that it had not caused the mastodon's death.

critique: The answer should mention the National Register of Historic Places.

critique: It's not clear who found it first: Manis, Dr. Carl Gustafson, and Emanuel Manis' relatives.

critique: The answer omits the year the site was added to the National Register of Historic Places.

critique: The answer omits the reason for the excavation.

critique: The answer omits the fact that the site was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1978.

critique: The answer omits the significance of the discovery.

question: What does the text say about the Clovis people?

answer: Archaeologists have believed the Clovis people were the first human inhabitants of North America, and that they lived there 13,000 years ago. However, the discovery of sites pre-dating Clovis, like the Manis Mastodon Site, has been challenging this presumption since the 1990s. The Manis Mastodon Site is 800 years older than the Clovis people.

critique: "Since the 1950s" - make this a complete sentence.

critique: The Manis Mastodon Site is older than the Clovis people by 800 years.

critique: The text doesn't say the Manis Mastodon Site is 800 years older than the Clovis people.

critique: The answer should mention that the Manis Mastodon Site is one of the oldest archaeological sites in North America.

critique: The Manis Mastodon Site is 800 years older than the Clovis people.

critique: Doesn't mention the discovery of the Manis Mastadon site.

critique: The text doesn't say that the Clovis people were the first human inhabitants of North America.

question: What does the text say about Emanuel Manis's family?

answer: Emanuel Manis had a wife and daughter, Shirley Manis. His widow later donated the site to the National Archaeological Conservancy. His daughter also wrote a children's book about the excavation. The story of the find was featured in several local media outlets.

critique: The response is missing some details about Emanuel Manis's family.

critique: The answer fails to mention that the family welcomed over 50,000 visitors to the site.

critique: Instead of saying that it was 'the find' it would be better to say that it was the discovery of the site, which the story featured.

critique: The answer does not mention Clare Manis.

critique: The story of the find was not featured in several local media outlets.


text:
[Program cover. Zionists are superimposed over American Revolutionary figures.[1]] _A FLAG IS BORN_ is a 1946 play that advocated the creation of a homeland for the Jewish people in the ancient Land of Israel—at the time of the play's release Mandatory Palestine, under British administration. With a cast including Paul Muni, Celia Adler and Marlon Brando, it opened on Broadway on September 4, 1946. It was written by Ben Hecht and directed by Luther Adler, with music by Kurt Weill. _A Flag is Born_ was produced by the American League for a Free Palestine, an organization headed by Hillel Kook (known in America by the anglicized name Peter Bergson), to raise money for Zionist causes.[2]

Synopsis

_A Flag is Born_ has three principal characters, with other actors playing bit roles.[3] Tevye and Zelda (played on Broadway by Paul Muni and Celia Adler, major stars at the time) are survivors of the Treblinka death camp who are attempting to travel to British-administered Palestine, the ancient Land of Israel. David (Marlon Brando) is an angry young Holocaust survivor.

The play opens with Tevye and Zelda ushering in the Jewish Sabbath on a Friday night somewhere on their journey. Zelda lights candles on a broken tombstone. After reciting the Sabbath prayers, Tevye dreams of the town where he was born, as it was before the Nazis destroyed it. A dream sequence follows in which Tevye has visions of the biblical kings Saul and David, then imagines himself standing before the United Nations Security Council pleading for the formation of a Jewish homeland in Palestine; he is ignored.

Tevye awakens to find that Zelda has died in the night. He recites _kaddish_, a Jewish memorial prayer, then welcomes the Angel of Death, who has come for him too. He bids David farewell. As David considers committing suicide, three Jewish soldiers (representing the Haganah, Irgun, and Lehi) suddenly appear and implore him to join them: “Don't you hear our guns David? We battle the English, the sly and powerful English. We speak to them in a new Jewish language, the language of guns. We fling no more prayers or tears at the world. We fling bullets. We fling barrages ... We promise to wrest our homeland out of the British claws.”[4][5]

In the play's finale, David delivers a fiery pro-Zionist speech, moves across a bridge into Palestine, and with the mixed sounds of “Hatikvah” and gunfire in the background, raises Tevye's prayer shawl as a makeshift flag and marches off to war.[6]

Zionist causes

thumb|upright=1.3|Jews, largely Holocaust survivors, sailing for Palestine aboard the SS _Exodus_ in 1947. _A Flag is Born_ was produced to support such migrants. _A Flag is Born_ was produced by the pro-Zionist American League for a Free Palestine (ALFP) to raise financial and political support for Zionist causes, including the transport of Jews from Europe. The AFLP was entirely open about its political motivations—publicity materials read: “'A Flag is Born' is not ordinary theatre. It was not written to amuse or beguile. 'A Flag is Born' was written to make money—to make money to provide ships to get Hebrews to Palestine ... and [to] arouse American public opinion to support the fight for freedom and independence now being waged by the resistance in Palestine.”[7]

In promoting the play, the Bergson Group attempted to equate the Zionist organizations in Palestine with the Patriots of the American Revolution. The cover of the program showed three Zionists—one with a rifle, one with a hoe, and one with a Zionist flag—superimposed over three American Revolutionary figures. Advertisements used the slogan “It's 1776 in Palestine!”, portrayed members of the Irgun as “modern-day Nathan Hales,” alluded to “taxation without representation” in Palestine, and quoted Thomas Jefferson's phrase, “Resistance to tyranny is obedience to God.” When Tevye dreams about addressing the United Nations, he compares Palestine in the 1940s with the American colonies in the 1770s.[8] _A Flag is Born_ played in six North American cities and raised more than $400,000 for the ALFP, the largest block of funds it ever attained.[9]

Brando had already been voted “Broadway's Most Promising Actor” for his role as an anguished veteran in _Truckline Café_, but that play was not a commercial success and Brando was still young, relatively unknown and impecunious. Brando contended that the survivors of the Holocaust deserved to have their own land where they could live freely; he accepted only the Actor's Equity minimum payment so more of the proceeds from _A Flag is Born_ could go towards Zionist causes.[10][11]

Reception and impact

After the play proved extremely popular, the Broadway run was extended and a tour was arranged. The sponsoring committee included many prominent people, including composer Leonard Bernstein, novelist Lion Feuchtwanger, New York City Mayor William O'Dwyer, and Eleanor Roosevelt.

Following the Broadway run, _A Flag is Born_ traveled to Chicago, Detroit, Philadelphia, and Boston. It was also scheduled to play at the National Theater in Washington, D.C. However, in an early action of the civil rights movement, Americans who opposed racial discrimination began a boycott to oppose the practice of barring blacks from attending Washington theaters, and the committee moved the play to the Maryland Theater in Baltimore. A special train brought members of Congress to the performance.[12] The American League for a Free Palestine and the NAACP cooperated to use the occasion to force the management of the Maryland Theater to abrogate its segregation policy (blacks restricted to the balcony) for the duration of the play's run which, in the context of the times, was considered a victory for civil rights.[13]

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4] Bird, Kai: _Divided City: Coming of Age Between the Arabs and Israelis_

[5] Wertheim, Albert: _Staging the War: American Drama and World War II_, p. 279

[6]

[7]

[8]

[9]

[10]

[11]

[12]

[13]

title: A Flag is Born

question: Summarize the synopsis of the play, A Flag is Born.

answer: Tevye and Zelda are survivors of the Treblinka death camp who are attempting to travel to British-administered Palestine, the ancient Land of Israel. Tevye dreams of the town where he was born, as it was before the Nazis destroyed it. Tevye has visions of the biblical kings Saul and David, then imagines himself standing before the United Nations Security Council pleading for the formation of a Jewish homeland in Palestine.

critique: Tevye's prayer shawl is raised as a makeshift flag at the end of the play. Include this in the answer.

critique: The answer should mention that Tevye dies and David raises his prayer shawl as a makeshift flag.

critique: David is also a survivor of the Holocaust.

critique: It is omitted that Zelda dies and David delivers a fiery pro-Zionist speech.

question: Summarize the importance of highlighting the Zionist cause as described in the text.

answer: The play was produced by the American League for a Free Palestine, an organization headed by Hillel Kook (Peter Bergson) to raise money for Zionist causes. The play was produced to support Jews, largely Holocaust survivors, sailing for Palestine aboard the SS Exodus in 1947. The play was produced to support such migrants. The play was produced by the pro-Zionist American League for a Free Palestine (ALFP) to raise financial and political support for Zionist causes, including the transport of Jews from Europe. The play was written to make money to provide ships to get Hebrews to Palestine and to arouse American public opinion to support the fight for freedom and independence now being waged by the resistance in Palestine.

critique: The entirety of the first sentence is unnecessary.

critique: The answer is a summary of the text, not an answer to the question.

critique: The play was produced to support Jews, largely Holocaust survivors, sailing for Palestine aboard the SS Exodus in 1947. The play was produced to support such migrants. The play was produced by the pro-Zionist American League for a Free Palestine (ALFP) to raise financial and political support for Zionist causes, including the transport of Jews from Europe. The play was written to make money to provide ships to get Hebrews to Palestine and to arouse American public opinion to support the fight for freedom and independence now being waged by the resistance in Palestine.

critique: This is a long string of sentences that can be made into one.

critique: The answer is a summary of the text and not the importance of highlighting the Zionist cause.

text: "The play was produced by the pro-Zionist American League for a Free Palestine (ALFP) to raise financial and political support for Zionist causes, including the transport of Jews from Europe." - this is redundant and can be removed.

question: Would Holocaust survivors appreciate the efforts of the play, A Flag is Born, and its efforts to support the Zionist cause?

answer: The play was created for the purpose of the Holocaust survivors to have a good life in their homeland. It would be an easy conclusion to assume the survivors would appreciate it.

critique: The answer should mention that it is implied the survivors would appreciate it.

critique: The article does not mention any significant survivors who might like the play.

critique: "The play was created for the purpose of the Holocaust survivors to have a good life in their homeland." - the survivors already had a home in Palestine, so the play was not created for that purpose.


text:
Hi guys! This is my first posting. Enjoy, and if you comment and suggest, that would be very much appreciated! Thank you in advance!
     It's that time again. It's 6:45 pm on a Tuesday evening. Late September. The most beautiful of the months. It's fascinating how the death of leaves, slowly being
 discolored then dwindling helplessly onto the fine edges of the branches, could be such a remarkable view. Every leaf is unique in its own manner, just as every human being is.
     I approach the two-story brick building from the street in front of it where I parked my car. Although this building has two-stories, it comes no more than 9 feet above the sidewalk. The entrance was followed by a set of seven steps declining to the basement door, the main entrance. The third step from the top has a crack just off to the right of the center, parting the step into two uneven slabs of concrete. I counted them when I came down the stairs for the first time, the second time, and every time following that.
     I proceed down the hall about fifteen feet and enter the door on my left. There, a room with twelve chairs are placed, facing inwards to form a circle. The walls were all white, with only two windows, which didn't allow much sunlight to come in, especially due to the time the sun disappears for the day here in Maryland.
     When I enter the circle, a wave of tension crashes over me. I know nobody in the room personally, only from seeing them in their same spots in this circle previously.
     "Good evening," peeps a woman's voice, "and welcome to our Tuesday night meeting! All familiar faces I see. Thomas, Andrew, Jared. But, I would like to start off with a name that has yet to truly open up to us."
     Shit. That's me. Right? No. We haven't heard from Derrick yet. Please Derrick. Stand up for me.
     "Gregory, would you like to start off our gathering this evening?"
     No. I come here to feel like I have something in common with everyone else. I do now. That's it. Goodbye. But I can't just walk away...
     Against every willing muscle, I rise.
     "Hello, everybody..." I said as relaxed as possible, but still nowhere near the definition of "relaxed".
     "Good evening, Greg," says the room, as well as the woman in the burgundy cardigan, sitting with ideal posture in the chair three seats to my right out of twelve chairs. That cardigan draped just past her hips when she stood, but halfway down the legs of the chair when she sat. A peaceful woman, only in her late 20's, continues with, "would you like to start by letting everyone know your name?"
     Maybe it isn't burgundy. Possibly a maroon. It's dark enough to remind me of autumn and the colors of the oak leaves that fell in my front lawn, but not too dark. Most of the leaves weren't quite as deep of a red as she wore.
     I'm getting very off topic here.
     "Gregory." I finally respond after a mere two seconds of a pause between her question and my answer. But a pause that ling in a room this quiet and empty feels like you could watch Titanic once or twice. I don't like the name Gregory, but that was the first thing to explode from my mouth since entering the circles of chairs on the open room I sat in. I spoke curtly, but nervously, as if embarassed to answer incorrectly.
     "My name", gulp, "is Greg Timsworth," I added to my too short of an answer, saying Greg so people don't assume I prefer "Gregory". Another pause followed my extended response before the woman spoke her couple of sentences.
     "Well, it's great to see you here tonight, Greg. Would you like to tell us why you're here?" she asked me enthusiastically and with a caring tone. She was soft-spoken, but it was as if she were in the wrong meeting. Of course she knew. How didn't she? Everybody in this room was here for one reason.
     Weakly and defeated, I opened up. Finally. I can speak of myself. What dilemma I had to overcome every day of my life. Every aspect of living was different than everyone else except for the ten others in this room that underwent the same treatments as I have. All of the doctors and hospitals and medication and tests and surgeries. I have been attending this meeting for 7 sessions, just sitting idly, listening and observing all other answers that other deform-ees gave the woman in the cardigan. They knew my name because of the nametag I wore. Everything else about me was only assumed. I was nobody. Now I'm somebody. I'm Greg Timsworth, owner of a 1991 Ford Probe that runs not as well as I had originally hoped it would've when I bought it for $3,000 on craigslist. I'm the guy that owns a home with a cat that just gave birth to a litter of 4 other kittens. I am Greg Timsworth,  and now I am a somebody.
     I looked the woman with the cardigan in her eyes. Only her. Only her soft brown eyes to match her soft, long brown hair. I stood. With my heart beating faster, I can almost feel the release of all of my pented up emotions. Everything from work, from school, from life as a while. Finally. I scream, louder than ever before, almost in tears.
     "I am Greg Timsworth, and I have no penis!"
     "This is Alcoholics Anonymous..."

title: [RF] - The Rise and Fall of Gregory Timsworth - Part One

question: Why was Gregory fascinated with the woman in the burgundy cardigan?

answer: He was fascinated with the woman because she had soft brown eyes and a long brown hair.

critique: The answer omits what the woman's cardigan looked like.

critique: Grammar: the adjective order isn't correct

critique: It is not stated that he was fascinated with the woman because she had soft brown eyes and a long brown hair.

critique: This is a strange way to put it. It would be better to say that he was fascinated by her because she is the only person there who had a similar experience to his.

critique: The answer is not related to the question.

critique: It's omitted that she was the only one he could talk to about his deformity.

text: The story doesn't explain why he is fascinated or even if he is.

refinement: He was fascinated with the woman because she had soft brown eyes and a long brown hair.


text:
Whistling at the dark

He stood in the blackness, his lips pursed together in a defiant sneer against the night. A soft sound escaped his lips, a pliant, fleeting tone that slipped through the night like the soft cries of a cornered prey. But it was with that sole musicless tone that he fought the night. It was like a dirge to him, a requim to be repeated over and over lest a chaotic fate take his life, some form of protection. The night carried dangers, of course. The night always carried danger, slow predators, fast prey, the ever present spiral of life and death. The forest in the distance was a trap. A slow death for those found within, pressed by others who would take their life for sustenance, and by the slow grind of the human machine which presses in on the trees like a vice, both metaphorical and not. The roads nearby hummed with motorcycle engines and the low drum of tractor trailers. The night was barely audible. The trees' rustle was sorrowful, as though they were aware of the sparse environment in which they grew. Perhaps they knew that their seeds, their children, would find pavement and poison. Perhaps plants were aware of the damage we did them. Perhaps not.

These were not the questions that He pondered as his tones and scales passed into the night. The question he pondered was a simple one. Does the night threaten, or protect? If a man finds his way into the forest at night, can he use the night as another tool, like a hammer to be weilded against the nails of the world? Humans were so good with tools. They used their world and changed their world and were positively okay with changing with their own alterations. Each new hell we press upon the world is one  which we will pay for. We are punished by our sins, not for them.

The tone changed. The man's face twitched, like he had caught the odor of something wistfully foul in the enveloping black. The whistling was a bit faster now, more of a plaintive groan than a playful twist of wind.  The man had made a realization. His mind had pierced the slow gloam of humanity to find a small point of universality. 'We are all trees' he breathed softly through his pursed lips. Then the meteor struck. The large rock flying through the universe had picked his small backwater planet and found his small backwater field where he stood whistling in the night. It was so massive, he had no chance of escape. By the time the news had reported the scientist's findings, the blast radius covered his entire nation. No vehicle could bear him from the damage now. He and his family would be lost, his home burned beyond even molecular recognition, with a force like an atomic bomb striking so close. He would be lost. But life would not be. The meteor was a predator, a cosmic wolf with gnashing teeth and cracked claws. But prey could be clever. Humans were so good with tools.

Inside a small black box buried feet under the ground lay a seed. A small seed, a tiny oak rock filled with all of the DNA and potential and history of life on Earth. The box was cracked, and water from the new storm clouds forming over the planet found its way to the cushioning around the seed. It took time. The little life had to crack its way out of its own shell; then the shell of the man, the little black box designed to handle even the force of an atomic bomb. It found its way out. Through the ashey dirt it fled, past the atoms of He and his family and their home and the ashphalt and chaos of humanity. Past humanity it fled, reaching towards light, unsure if the earth above it would bury it. But humans were so good with tools. A sharp metal stab rang out near the plants' new growth. It could feel the earth above it rended, torn from its roots and sent flying into the air. But its roots were strong, buried in humanity. The rending stopped. Above the plant, a small something opened up. It could not tell what it was; had never seen sunlight before. But there was a mass there, a white shining mass of hydrocarbons and polycarbonates. It was a human, come to sample the soil from the strike. 'Hello' said the plant in its own indiscernible language. 'and thank you.'

Later, a mighty oak grew in that spot. The small metal box rose to the surface over the years, and was discovered years after the tree was fully grown. On it, it said; “Humanity does not refer to human beings' selfish nature for self preservation. It refers to the quality within us which protects all life, both ours and others.”

title: Please judge this rough draft I would like to know if I have "writer chops." Thanks

question: Summarize the thoughts the narrator has in the story.

answer: The narrator thinks about the night, how it can be both threatening and protective. He thinks about how humans are so good with tools, and how we use our world and change it. The narrator believes that "we are all trees". The narrator then realizes that the meteor is a predator, a cosmic wolf. He thinks about how humans are so good with tools and how a small metal box with a plant inside of it survived an atomic blast. The plant later grows into an oak tree, and the box is discovered by a human.

critique: There is no evidence that the narrator says that "we are all trees".

critique: The narrator is in first person throughout, not the third person. So, this would make more sense as I.

text: The protagonist thinks that "we are all trees," not the narrator.

question: Who would be friends with the narrator and understand his train of thoughts?

answer: No answer

critique: The narrator is not a character in the story.

question: Summarize the significance of a tree to the narrator.

answer: A tree is a symbol of life, and in the context of the story, it is a symbol of the human spirit. The narrator compares the human spirit to the tree and says that the human spirit is what protects all life. The narrator also says that humans are good with tools and the human spirit can be used to protect life.

critique: The narrator does not compare the human spirit to the tree.

critique: It is omitted that the tree is the narrator's symbol of hope.

critique: "A tree is a symbol of life, and in the context of the story, it is a symbol of the human spirit. The narrator compares the human spirit to the tree and says that the human spirit is what protects all life." - is redundant information and lack clarity.

critique: The answer should be more specific about the tree's significance.


text:
I don’t know if I want to write to my mother or about my mother.

I don’t know if I want to visit her for the last time while she is in coma or stay here thousands of miles away and write.

I don’t know if I feel sick to my stomach knowing that the person who gave life to me is at the end of her life or rather, I feel nothing.

I don’t know if I will regret for the rest of my life my decision not to see her before she dies or if this decision will fade away into the thick fabric of my life.

I don’t know if I love my mother or not, if I forgave her or not, if now, as she is laying in a hospital bed for the last four months, she is stubbornly waiting for me, her only daughter, to come and tell her that I forgave her.  Or rather, she is fighting the inevitable like she always does; bitter, alone, and fueled by anger.

The name my mother gave me is Revital Siach-bar. I shed bits of my name while discarding parts of myself.

For a long time I didn't know who I was and who I was becoming. What I’m dropping and what I’m keeping.

I am able to write these words because they are not thought and written in my mother’s tongue.
That tongue nourished in mother’s milk now spoiled, and reluctant to yield a thought.
My mother is a package of qualities and sensibilities I don't want to have. I fear that by being close to her, like a contagious disease, I will contract it.

If now I was with her at Herzog hospital in Jerusalem on the last floor before the basement, known as minus four floor, I would look outside the window and watch the heavy rain fall on the city I barely recognize.

It’s a city I left behind with seductive sunsets reflecting on shiny gold and silver domes as the muezzins’ voices are woven in with church bells and the prayers of Arvit raising up from synagogues.  Now, heavy and gray she is dressed in layers of concrete, security checkpoints blocking the flow of life, special lanes are dedicated to police and ambulances speeding with full sirens on.  A city that rigidly divides good from bad, us from them, the sacred from the profane.
If I was in the hospital with my mom I would call her Ima and touch her white hair, comb it back away from her eyes. I would do it gently — very gently.  Smiling to a fading memory of how harshly she braided my hair till silent tears would emerge from the corners of my eyes — smiling as if I let go, as if this two dimensional memory, this black and white image can be cast away in a dusty cigar box of old photos.

Perhaps, if I was with my mother now, I would go to the top floor of the hospital, plus four where the cafeteria and take a break.

I will watch the traffic coming up at the entrance to Jerusalem from above. I would try to guess how angry or fearful people are from the way they drive and honk their horns, gauge how many police and army vehicles are on the road taking the temperature of the coming intifada. Evaluate the situation for myself rather than listen to the news  — they way you do when you live there.
I might go back to her room look at her, hold her hand, pretend I am fearless.  What can she do to me now? I will ask over and over — she is in a coma, I would say over and over.
If I was there at the hospital I would wait for the nurses and doctors to clear, hold her veiny frail hand and I would talk to her, aloud and in hebrew.

I don’t know what I would tell her.  I might say I love you ima, I know you did the best you could, I can let go now and you can too.

Or maybe, I would tell her for the first time how hard it was to walk with her day after day after school to my dad’s grave. To hear her talking to him, whispering, crying, sometimes blaming him for leaving her behind with three kids, sometimes telling him she is going to kill herself also just like he did.

I would tell her how I wished she would look at me, touch me, smile, thank me for cleaning once again the head stone, ask me what do I do day after day for hours there at the grave site.  I wanted to tell her how I memorized the names of all the dead soldiers, their age and their place of death.  How I liked some more then others. How I decided who was handsome and who was not by the sound of their names and who I would have liked to marry if they came back.
How I wished to tell her about the election in my class, for the first time in fourth grade when I was elected to be the president.  How I was worried they chose me because they felt pity for me. They voted for me because of what I didn't have not because of who I was. I would tell her that I can go on for days if she was interested, that I kept all these memories, recounting them for her to know.

Perhaps I would just leave her room abruptly, despondent and gloomy like a teenager who realizes for the first time the smallness of their parents and go to Har Herzel, walking distance from Herzog hospital and visit my dad. Maybe wash the head stone once again and leave another stone on the edge of the grave, wishing I had asked someone years ago why adults do that.
I might go to see the house where I was born and grew up with the poor immigrants from Morocco, Iraq and Egypt. The house she sold one day without telling me.  I would tell her how bitter and disorienting it was to come back from a school trip to a new house never able to say goodbye to him and to the house. I would have to evaluate taking the bus, risking a suicide bomber or drive on unfamiliar new roads navigating through angry traffic. I would go knowing I wouldn't be able to find the little house with the unpaved trail and the lemon tree we planted right after he died.

Maybe I will come back to the hospital and tell her how the house disappeared among big high houses, that Madam Ades is no longer there, that Mr. Cohen and his family disappeared and that my grandmother’s house adjacent to our house is now a villa for the well off new generation of Israelis who park their shiny cars in a garage where we used to hang the laundry.
I will go back there to minus four floor again to check on her, I would try one more time, like I always do.

Or, not go at all, stay here and write.

title: [RF] My Mother

question: Summarize the narrator's internal conflict.

answer: The narrator is conflicted about visiting her dying mother in her final moments. The narrator doesn't know if they feel sick to their stomach knowing that the person who gave them life is at the end of her life or if they feel nothing. They also don't know if they will regret not visiting her or if this decision will fade away into the fabric of their life. The narrator also doesn't know if they love their mother or not, if they forgave her or not. They also don't know if they will regret not visiting her or if this decision will fade away into the fabric of their life.

critique: The text has two repeats of the same sentence.

critique: The narrator's internal conflict is not repeated twice.

critique: This sentence is redundant and should be removed.

critique: The narrator's internal conflict is not expressed in the same way twice.

critique: The narrator's internal conflict is not about visiting her mother.

question: Summarize Revital's relationship with their mother.

answer: Revital does not have a good relationship with their mother. She has a lot of anger and bitterness towards her, and blames her for leaving her with three kids. At the end of her life, she may be looking for her forgiveness. Revital doesn't know if she loves her or forgiven her.

critique: Use gender-neutral language where possible.

text: Revital was not left with three kids

question: Explain why the narrator's father committed suicide.

answer: No answer

critique: The answer should mention that the information is not given in the text.

critique: The answer should be that the narrator's father committed suicide because he was overwhelmed by the responsibilities of being a father.

question: Summarize what the story has to say about family bonds.

answer: The narrator's mother is in a coma, and the narrator is unsure if they want to visit her or not. The narrator is not sure if they love their mother or not, and they are not sure if they have forgiven her. The narrator is not sure if they will regret not visiting their mother before she dies. The narrator is also unsure if they want to have the qualities and sensibilities of their mother.


text:
I wrote this for my GCSE course work about 2 years ago and it has been sitting on my computer ever since.

This was my first and last draft of the story, I have never written anything but essays before this.

There I was, wind howling in my ears and whipping my hair to and fro, crouched deep in a dried up river bed that would soon fill with the crystal clear ice melt from the nearby glacier in the coming summer months, I spotted my target. Plump, but fast was my target, the master of escape, for he had avoided me, the best tracker in the village, for six days and lead me deep into the woods that we often heard stories about as children, of men who had strayed too far never to return.

It was said that at the edge of these woods lay the base of the tallest mountain range in the known world, dwarfing the ranges that the glacier called home. It was said that at the base of those dark mountains was a cave where the she monster lay, waiting for any lost animal to stray too close, looking for shelter from the wind and snow in her hellish, yet inviting cave.

A gentle shifting of heavy hooves and the crunch of dry leaves brought me back to the present. The one I knew as the deceiver, for he could lose an expert hunter within hours, was slowly rising from his place of rest. He was unfortunate for the leaves to give him away but it was a mistake that only fawns make, not a full grown stag who had survived many cold, harsh winters like the one we seemed to be stuck in at the time.

As fast as I dared, I strung my bow and notched one of my finest arrows; I drew my bow felt the arrow on my right cheek bone and aimed. The soft twang of the bow was picked up by the deceiver’s sensitive ears but my arrow flew to fast for him to do react, the arrow thumped into him as he raised his head and let out one final bay, the arrow sprouted from his lower neck with a fountain of glistening ruby red blood gushing from the wound.

As I was deconstructing my bow into my preferred travelling position, the sound of dry leaves beneath a large creature caught my attention. I looked up at the deceiver but he was long dead, the noise had not come from him. I decided against packing up my bow and rather waited in the river bed, my eyes darting at the slightest sound. I began to doubt that I had ever heard the noise, scolding myself for being so ignorant, the wind could have made the leaves rustle.

But I knew something was not right, before the forest was full of small animals such as squirrels and birds, now there was nothing. Perhaps the kill had scared them off, but every time I had hunted, the forest would be just as busy after a kill as before it. No, something was wrong here and as if to confirm my suspicions the bushes on the far side of the clearing began to move.

A looming figure stepped from the darker area of bushes, taller than any beast I had ever seen and as thick as the farm’s wagon. All of my childhood nightmares of the she beast came flooding back in a wave of terror as I realized what had just appeared before me. Hunched shoulders carried arms and legs as thick as any tree, matted brown fur coated the whole body, wet from melted snow and splattered with fresh blood; the wind blew at the fur and made it danced around as if distracting me while the monster made its move.

 The beast stood on its hind legs showing off its height and sniffed the air, with a crash it came back onto all fours and stared at the river bed until it spotted me. The black orbs rooted me to the spot while its jet black lips curled back to reveal the its sharp fangs, they were curled backwards to hold prey while the ones deeper in were thicker and probably used to crush bones, a thought that made me tremble. They were a sickly shade of yellow, a feature that only increased my urge to run when it let out a low, grumbling warning growl.

Since the beast had emerged from the forest I had chosen my best arrow and placed it on my bow, and as quietly as the river bed and leaves would allow me to, I snuck into a crouched shooting position, ready to defend myself. The beast noticed my stance and let out an almighty roar that threatened to knock me over due to shear ferocity.  Despite the distraction my aim was true; the arrow lodged itself in the beast’s right shoulder, giving me enough time to escape.

The river bed would lead me home and I was at an advantage for the beasts gigantic size meant it could not fit through the tight gaps along the winding river bed; however I knew my efforts would be in vain as I was only leading the beast closer to my home.

title: The Bear

question: What does the story say about what happens when the narrator sees the bear?

answer: The narrator sees the bear and realizes that it is the she monster. The narrator is terrified and starts to run. The narrator has a bow and shoots the bear with an arrow. The narrator is then able to escape.

critique: The narrator does not realize that the bear is the she monster until after he shoots it.

critique: The response is missing the part where the narrator is running away from the bear.

critique: The narrator does not run away from the bear.

critique: The narrator is not running, they are trying to escape.

critique: The answer should include that the narrator attempts to escape into a riverbed and plans on downstream running home and away from the bear.

critique: The narrator doesn't run away from the bear.

critique: The narrator escapes by running into the river bed, not by running.

question: What does the story say about how the narrator feels?

answer: The narrator, along with the predator tracking them, was very scared of what would happen next. He/she was intimidated at the size of the beast and could not run away. Which resulted in him/her knowing that her efforts of escaping the beast would only be futile as the beast would now be led closer to his/her home.

text: "They" is a preferable singular pronoun to "he/she"

question: What does the story say about whether the beast finds the narrator's home?

answer: No answer

critique: The answer should mention that the beast does not find the narrator's home.

critique: The answer is false as it is in the passage.

critique: The answer should mention that the beast doesn't find the narrator's home.


text:
The FEBRUARY 1998 AFGHANISTAN EARTHQUAKE occurred at near the Afghanistan-Tajikistan border. The strike-slip shock had a moment magnitude of 5.9 and a maximum Mercalli intensity of VII (_Very strong_). With several thousand dead and hundreds injured, the event's effects were considered extreme. It was felt at Tashkent and Dushanbe,[1] and aftershocks continued for the next seven days.

Cause

Afghanistan is situated on a major plate boundary.[2] The location of the country is on the boundary where two tectonic plates, the Iranian Plate and the Eurasian Plate, meet.[3] To the south of Afghanistan, the Indian Plate moves northwards and to the north the Eurasian Plate moves south-eastwards.[4] The collision resulting from the movement of the plates has been under way for 50 million years.[5] Due to this, Afghanistan is vulnerable to earthquakes.[6] Both the Iranian Plate and the Eurasian Plate consists of continental crust, which can neither sink nor be destroyed.[7] As a result, the rocks between the two plates are forced upwards to form mountains.[8] The constant movement of the Iranian Plate results in an increase in pressure.[9] The earthquake on February 4, 1998 was caused by this increase in pressure.[10]

Casualties and damage

A spokesman for the United Islamic Front for the Salvation of Afghanistan, which controlled certain area, told the Afghan Islamic Press that they removed more than 3,500 bodies.[11] According to the estimates by the Taliban government in Kabul, which ruled the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan at that time, 3,230 people died in the earthquake.[12] Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) later put the death toll at 4,000.[13] The anti-Taliban Afghan Embassy in Dushanbe asserted that approximately 15,000 people became homeless[14][15] and dozens of villages were destroyed.[16] Nearly 15,000 houses were destroyed primarily due to the landslides.[17] Approximately 818 people were injured and 6,725 livestock were killed.[18]

Relief efforts

The Takhar Province was a remote area[19][20] and road transport and telecommunication was poor.[21] So it took three days for the news to reach Kabul.[22] On February 7, reports began to reach the capital city.[23] But relief work was hampered and delayed because of bad weather like fog, low cloud and snowfalls, blocked mountain tracks (due to snowfall and landslide) and the civil war.[24][25] Reports indicated that survivors were living without shelter in subzero temperature and many were starving.[26] Several villagers were making their way down the mountain tracks along with their herds of goats.[27]

The International Red Cross and Red Crescent Movement sent a team from Dushanbe to the affected region for relief efforts.[28] The first international relief team reached the affected area on February 7[29] and the first United Nations (UN) team arrived there on February 10.[30] A convoy of the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) reached the site on February 14 with 4,800 blankets, 800 quilts, 10 rolls of plastic sheeting and approximately 200 tents.[31] Eleven days after the event, on February 16, helicopters were able to drop supplies to three isolated villages.[32] The European Union (EU) offered £1.3m of relief aid including blankets, medical equipment, water and tents.[33] The Taliban ruled Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan offered 100 tonnes each of rice and wheat, and approximately £40,000 to the affected region.[34]

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[11] 1998: 4,000 feared dead in Afghan earthquake _BBC News_

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[30] Afghanistan – Earthquake OCHA Situation Report No. 7 ReliefWeb

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[34]

title: February 1998 Afghanistan earthquake

question: What does the text say was the cause for the devastating earthquake in Afghanistan?

answer: Afghanistan is located on a major plate boundary, where the Iranian Plate and the Eurasian Plate meet. The collision of the two plates has been happening for 50 million years. Because Afghanistan is on a major plate boundary, it is vulnerable to earthquakes. The constant movement of the Iranian Plate increased pressure, which caused the earthquake.

critique: "The constant movement of the Iranian Plate increased pressure" - this is incorrect. The constant movement of the Iranian Plate increased pressure and caused the earthquake.

critique: The answer omits that the pressure is caused by the constant movement of the Iranian Plate.

critique: The last sentence does not add anything to the answer.

critique: The second sentence is not necessary for the answer.

critique: The answer should mention the specific plates involved.

critique: The answer should mention the specific cause of the earthquake.


text:
JAMES GILKES (born 21 September 1952) is a former sprinter from Guyana who specialised in the 200 metres.

Career

He was 1975 Pan American 200 metre champion, and in 1979 he took the silver medal in the same event.

He was runner up to Don Quarrie of Jamaica in the 1978 AAA's 200 metres event.

At the 1978 Commonwealth Games in Edmonton he finished fourth in the 100 metre final, then took the silver medal in the 200 metres, finishing behind Allan Wells of Scotland.

In 1978, Gilkes was denied a world record for the 4x200 m relay; while the Tobias Striders team he was a member of broke the old world record with a time of 1:20.23, but this was rejected as a record because the team members were from different countries. The other members of the team were: Guy Abrahams, Panama; Michael Simmons, USA; and Don Quarrie, Jamaica.

The team from the University of Southern California (Joel Andrews, James Sanford, William Mullins and Clancy Edwards) that finished second in the same race also broke the old world record: their time of 1:20.26 was accepted as the new world record.[1]

In 1979 he took 3rd place in the “Golden sprints” in Zurich.

Gilkes would have been a medal favorite in the 200 m (which Don Quarrie won) at the 1976 Olympic Games in Montreal, but Guyana joined the African boycott over New Zealand's rugby team's tour of apartheid South Africa. He applied to the International Olympic Committee (IOC) for permission to run as an individual under their flag but was denied the request.[2][3][4] He also went to the 1980 Olympic Games where he reached the semi-finals of both the 100 and 200 metres before he was eliminated.

His personal best time for the 200 metres was 20.14 seconds, achieved in September 1978 in Ingelheim.

Gilkes studied first at Fisk University then moved to the University of Southern California (USC). He was an important member of the track team at both colleges. As of 2012, Gilkes was still ranked in the top 10 all-time performers for the USC Trojans at 100 and 200 m, joint 8th and 4th respectively.[5]

He enjoyed success for both colleges at the NCAA (USA Collegiate) championships, including a win at 220 yards in 1974:[6][7]

-   1974 (for Fisk) – 6th in 100 y; 1st in 220 y
-   1975 (for USC) – 2nd in 200 m
-   1976 (for USC) – 3rd in 100 m; 2nd in 200 m.

Gilkes joined Fisk University when it started a student transfer program with his native country of Guyana in 1972.[8] Gilkes remained at Fisk University until 1974 when he transferred to USC.[9] He has stated he was not unhappy at Fisk but did not enjoy the Tennessee weather and preferred the sunnier climes of California.[10]

Rankings

Gilkes was ranked in the top ten 100 and 200 m sprinters in the world from 1974 to 1979, according to the votes of the experts of _Track and Field News_.[11][12]

  Year   100 m   200 m
  ------ ------- -------
  1974   -       3rd
  1975   9th     3rd
  1976   9th     6th
  1977   -       -
  1978   -       3rd
  1979   -       3rd

  : 100 meters

USA Championships

Gilkes when in the United States was eligible at that time to compete in the USA National Track and Field Championships. He achieved the feat of finishing second in the 200 m five years running.[13]

  Year   100m   200m
  ------ ------ ------
  1974   -      2nd
  1975   -      2nd
  1976   -      2nd
  1977   5th    2nd
  1978   6th    2nd

  : USA Championships

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title: James Gilkes

question: Summarize Gilkes' career during the 1990s.

answer: No answer

critique: The response is incorrect. There is no answer to this question.

critique: Since the text explicitly mentions that Gilkes' career carried up until the 1990s, a response stating no answer can be inaccurate and should be rewritten.

question: Summarize everything relating to Gilkes' education.

answer: Gilkes studied first at Fisk University then moved to the University of Southern California. He was an important member of the track team at both colleges.

critique: Another educational detail is that he was a sprinter at Fisk and USC.

critique: The answer omits that Gilkes studied at Fisk University.

critique: The answer should mention that he was a student at Fisk University when it started a student transfer program with Guyana.

critique: It's omitted that he studied at Fisk University when it started a student transfer program with Guyana.

critique: The answer should mention that he studied at Fisk University in 1972 and at USC in 1974.

critique: Does not mention his transfer from Fisk to USC.

critique: It's omitted that he went to Fisk University when it started a student transfer program with his native country of Guyana in 1972.

critique: The answer should mention that he transferred from Fisk to USC.

question: Summarize Gilkes' career during 1978.

answer: In 1978, Gilkes was denied a world record for the 4x200 m relay; while the Tobias Striders team he was a member of broke the old world record with a time of 1:20.23, but this was rejected as a record because the team members were from different countries. The other members of the team were: Guy Abrahams, Panama; Michael Simmons, USA; and Don Quarrie, Jamaica. The team from the University of Southern California also broke the old world record: their time of 1:20.26 was accepted as the new world record. In 1979 he took 3rd place in the “Golden sprints” in Zurich. Gilkes was ranked in the top ten 100 and 200 m sprinters in the world from 1974 to 1979, according to the votes of the experts of Track and Field News.

critique: "The team from the University of Southern California also broke the old world record" can be omitted as it restates "the team from the USC"

text: "The team from the University of Southern California also broke the old world record: their time of 1:20.26 was accepted as the new world record. In 1979 he took 3rd place in the “Golden sprints” in Zurich. Gilkes was ranked in the top ten 100 and 200 m sprinters in the world from 1974 to 1979, according to the votes of the experts of Track and Field News." - this information is irrelevant to Gilkes' career. The answer is also missing other details such as his personal best time in Ingelheim in September 1978, his top ten (world) ranking in 200 m (3rd in 1978), and his 2nd place finish at the 1978 USA Championships.

category: other

category_text: A combination of coherence and coverage.


text:
Strange Encounters

"It's weird officer, real weird." Mark Henderson was at the local police station in Alberton, Ontario on 4: 36am August 8th, 1951. Strangely enough, a building he's never seen, in a town he's never been to before, yet familiar.

"All right smooth talker, let's take it from the top once more. I know there's not much to it as you've continued to repeat but let's see if anything else pops out at you and then we will pay for your gas home." Officer Dan Richardson was becoming more and more tired with the story was hearing.

There just can't be anyway. Dan thought becoming more and more enraged within. The moment he walks out of here I'm just going to throw this case out. Hocus pocus my ass, what does he take me for, an idiot?! At best this is the best damn way to get free gas.

"Well like I said before, I had just filled up at half past 10pm, so I could drive out and get to the place that sells tobacco by the pound still..."

Yes, yes we all go out to New Market for cheaper cigarettes, not relevant.

"...and I was driving out to Bakersfield like I said,"
He didn't refer to it as Bakersfield before? The puzzled Officer thought.

"...on the way there I had to swerved out of the way of a truck with these god forsaken bright lights. I guess I was a bit sleepy Officer and woke up in the nick of time but after that I found myself just driving around an unfamiliar road.

I was having awful headaches, for a bit around that time too. Images that started accompanying them are hard to distinguish but almost always included me in a white setting... I don't know it sounds crazy now. Anyways, I pulled over till they subsided and drove straight here in hopes that you could help me figure out where I am so I can get home, but I still can't remember where that was again. Some rest will cure this forgetfulness. I feel like I've been up all night." Mark felt like that was all the information that he could give, he couldn't remember what town he lived in nor his wife or his phone number. He kind of felt a helpless feeling fall over him.

"We'll now that you've told us where you were driving to we can call that regions station and see if there is a match to your name anywhere close to there. It should only take a few hours."

Not long after that another Office came into the room and asked if Officer Dan could speak with him for a moment.
What did the results turn up Frank?

"He wasn't lying when he said things were weird. It turns out that there isn't  even a Bakersfeild anywhere near here. In fact, you have to drive 14 hours north to get to a small town called Bakersfeild." Officer Frank said as he started to debrief.

"...here's where things get truly disturbing. When we searched his name through the local police department Mark has a missing person out because his wife...."

"Wow, his wife sure gets worried quickly. Seems a bit much don't you think he's only been gone for half a day at most. Can't remember his name or town he lives in, probably doesn't remember setting out on a road trip. Likely to get away from her if she's that crazy." Office Dan remarked crudely as if this was all an elaborate funny joke.

"If you'd let me finish, his wife reported him missing August 8th, 1950, sir. This was reported after she spent a full day returning home from a place that was 8 hours away from their town. She reported being in the passenger seat of a driverless car after being at a gas station for an unknown reason. All she could remember before waking up was that there was a blinding white light that she couldn't help but look at. It actually says 'forced' in the report." Frank said growing more and grimmer as he read from the file between his trembling hands.

Officer Dan, started to sit in the closest seat he could find. He couldn't believe that Mark was 14 hours away from home. That would make his whole time scale false. Not to mention the fact that he has been missing for a full year, a full year exactly he would later realize.

He began to think about the crazy aspects of them all, his wife's story at the time; driverless cars, being at a gas station for no reason, it all makes sense now, only after hearing Marks story.

"Sir there is one more thing in the reports." Frank said with a grave look in his eyes.

"What more could it be?"

"The wife had three cuts into her skin going the length of her back; she said that's the first appearance  of them in her life. It was like they were skillfully cut as the doctors said there was no way any doctor could stitch a cut that clean without some kind of pain. She reported none."

"All right Frank thanks for all the intel." Dan has a hard enough time giving gratitude in the first place and was finding it particularly challenging to give it with what he just learned.

The door opens to the interrogation; with it brought an energy that mimetic death. Officer Dan began relaying the frightening news to Mark, which still hasn't sunk in, himself.
"One last thing before we send you on your way home to your wife, if you will Mark. Your wife reported three cuts on her back that she had never seen before that night. Could you remove your shirt and pants please, I just want to know if we should have medical look at you first." Officer Dan asked Mark in the most genuine and sincere way he could.

"No problem Sir, it was starting to itch a bit anyways. It'll be nice to readjust it." Mark said in a cheerful way. For he sees this all as a blessing. Finally, he can see his wife and start the laughing process.

As Office Dan brought his coffee cup down from a big deep, delicious gulp, the liquid left his mouth as fast as it came in. in one fellow motion Office Dan vomited, dropped his cup, and tripped on his own two feet.

With his eyes wide open from shock; he gazed at a man whose skin, from head to toe, was scalped. Only his muscles were visible. Each and every muscle strand picked clean of its protective layer of skin. No blood was seeping through, it was as if there was its own invisible skin that covered him. Which is likely why he hasn't miraculously died.

As Mark turned around to confront a mirror, the last thing to pass through his mind was his beautiful wife; he pictured the way her soft cherry red hair flowed over her shoulders like a creek over an edge. Her rosy cheeks gently glowing in the sun. It was comforting to his mind to have such a lovely mental image cross it because once his  eyes focused on the mirror, his hideously deformed body sent his body into a trauma that it couldn't handle and  at  10:29PM August 8th Mark Henderson collapsed dead.

As for Dan Richardson, well he wishes that the story ended there.

title: [SF] Strange Encounters

question: Summarize the source of tension in the story.

answer: At the beginning of the story, a man named Mark shows up at the police station with nobody having any idea of where he came from or why he is there. He seems disoriented, but appears to hold on to his identity, at least at the beginning. As he tells his story, it's revealed that he stated getting lost three years earlier. It appears his wife was in the car with him at that time, as she reported a similar scenario, however, she was missing for a year.

critique: The answer is incorrect. Mark was missing for a year, not three years.

critique: It is omitted that when Officer Dan questions the man to remove his shirt and reveals that he is missing his skin. (And metal rods are instead what supports his muscles.)

critique: The response inaccurately mentions that Mark's wife was missing for three years, however it was only a year.

critique: The answer is incorrect. Mark's wife was not in the car with him three years ago. She was in the car with him the night he disappeared.

critique: This is incorrect. The woman was missing for a year and the story happened in 1951, not three years earlier.

critique: The story does not state that Mark stated getting lost three years earlier.

critique: The story does not state that Mark got lost three years earlier.

critique: The response inaccurately mentions that Mark stated getting lost three years earlier, however he was missing for a year.

text: The answer should mention the man's lack of skin.

category: coverage