input with options: I do not fully understand exactly what you are asking so I will restate what I believe you are asking and then I will answer it. What was the best excuse that a student ever gave for having failed to do something? I would have to say that I was most entertained by a student's response to "Why are you late for school?" The student said, "I awoke in time this morning but there was a mouse sitting on the edge of my bed. I looked at him and he looked back. The mouse said to me, 'Go back to sleep' and what could I do? He had a gun." The following has worked a few times too when students refuse to talk. That is, I know that one of the assembled students was the culprit for some activity. When they will not talk, I interview them one at a time while the others are kept away from each other. Then when they are assembled before me again, I say, "Thank you gentlemen. I know who did it so you others are free to return to class." All but one arises and leaves. This works more times than not. For years I have given assignments via email and I have collected assignments via email. Nothing has ever gotten lost this way and things are timestamped. I do not have to make photocopies and even students who are not present the day that the assignment is announced in class, get the assignment in a timely manner. One young lady told me, "I turned it in but you must have lost it." "Okay," I said, "Open your sent folder and show me that you sent it." She replied by saying, "I delete my sent folder to keep from clogging up my email." I told her that I understood and that she could show me an empty sent folder to prove that she was telling the truth. She said, "I lied." Question: When was I restating what you are asking? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- After I did not understand your question
- After I was sure I heard you
- not enough information
- After I was sure what you are asking
output: After I did not understand your question

Q: Old Zeke handed Justin his day's worth of mail and looked longingly at the cool shade under the porch, half hoping, half anticipating an invitation to enjoy a cool drink and a few minutes out of the sun. His state-of-the-art mail delivery vehicle, an old green Ford with busted air-conditioning, sometimes elicited sympathy from those along his route, but the ones with beer were the best. However, Justin just looked through his mail and then began watching the sky. "You ever think about gravity?" Justin asked suddenly. "No," admitted Old Zeke, wiping the perspiration from his forehead. Justin sighed a little. "You ever fall off your ladder?" "Well," considered Zeke. Damned if this wasn't a round-about way to offer a fella a drink, but maybe after all this Justin would offer him a beer instead of that watery lemonade he made. "Yeah." "How long did it take you to fall?" Well hell, muttered Old Zeke under his breath. Maybe all those stakes he was driving in had given Justin a touch of the sun. The thought made him consider hauling Justin back to town, although the truck might finish the job the sun had started. "A second or two," Zeke replied. But before he could load Justin into the truck, he figured he would have to collect a few things from the house, and maybe from the fridge he'd collect a few drinks... "That thing up there hasn't fallen a foot in ten minutes or so." Maybe Justin had a small bottle of something tucked away under the... "What thing?" Justin pointed. Zeke shielding his eyes with his hands and looked up. "Oh, that weather balloon?" Justin's expectant face seemed to droop. "That what it is?" "Yep. Looks like it's almost out of helium, the way it's floating so low. Launched 'em myself thirty years ago in the Army." Question: Who is Zeke: === The answer to the above question is

OPTIONS:
- A construction worker
- A bartender
- not enough information
- A vietnam veteran

A: not enough information

I had seen it before, those fuzzy, furry leaves and stalks, with the pretty, star-pointed purple flowers, but up until that moment that I saw them sitting in a basket at the market stalls, I admit I had never taken notice of it as a food. It grow along cracks in stone walls and along the roadside near my home in Settignano, which is blooming with spring goodness right now: robinia (black locust) trees, wild garlic (three-cornered leek) and even elderflowers are already bursting. I asked the vendor just to double check, "Is this borage?" "Si," Came the answer, "Borragine." He confirmed. "I've had it in ravioli," I started to say, "Brava!" He said, as if we were about to start a guessing game on what could be done with it. Actually, there's a lot that can be done with it. If you can use it as a ravioli filling with ricotta, then you can imagine it taking the place of spinach in gnudi, too, but also soups or frittata or stirred through polenta. I learned that the flowers are just as delicious, if not more interesting, for their delicate cucumber-like flavour people told me of their use in salads or cocktails like Pimms, and someone even mentioned she freezes them in ice cubes, what a pretty idea for those first warm nights when you can dine al fresco, homemade cocktail in hand. Then there's risotto and of course the fritters, much like these ones. Or you can simply deep fry the clusters of buds that haven't yet burst open like these deep-fried robinia flowers. borage and ricotta crepes The problem, I was thinking, as I took home my bag of borage, is that I can't decide what to make. There's simply too much choice. I consulted two of my favourite books that also happen to be cookbooks. Patience Gray's Honey from a Weed and Luigi Ballerini's A Feast of Weeds. Both had wonderful ideas for borage (and indeed many other edible, foraged plants). Question: The writer learned you could use the flowers: === The answer to the above question is

OPTIONS:
- before he met the vendor
- not enough information
- after he met the vendor
- when he met the vendor

Answer:
after he met the vendor