Some years ago a woman on our staff came into my office to, basically, tell me off and complain to me about others and about myself. This woman had not been very supportive of me in my role ever since I began working there. I couldn't figure out if she was arrogant or lacking in self esteem. During this meeting / confrontation, she told me, in no uncertain terms, just what she didn't like about some recent decisions I had made. I listened to her speak for about 30 minutes. She, quite methodically, tore me apart. Initially, I had planned to hear her out, make a few vague remarks, and send her on her way, thinking that maybe she just needed to be heard. But about 20 minutes into her harangue, I had a change of heart. I decided that, if she asked for a response for me, if she asked my advice, I was going to tell her exactly what I thought. She did, in fact, ask me for a response. I asked her if she was a happy person, and said that I suspected that she was not, as she came across as a bully and was acting like a horrible person. She sat and looked at me, then burst into tears. I waited. Looking up, she said, "Yes, you are correct. I am a horrible person. And I am miserable. What can I do?" We spent some time discussing what she could do, and (even though I didn't want to take the time to do it) I asked her if she would like a mentor me? She said that she would like such a thing. This woman and I ended up becoming fairly, no, very good friends and she has been one of my strongest supporters. I didn't expect that. Question: Why was the woman so upset Options: A. not enough information B. She was miserable at herself C. She was mad at friends D. She was mad at me === The correct answer is
B

There is no hiding from the impact agenda. The impact weighting of the Research Excellence Framework has been increased for 2021, and more recently the UK Government announced a new funding stream for knowledge exchange. But achieving impact isn't easy, especially for researchers early in their careers. If you ever have a spare week, or ten, it's worth reading through some of the 6,637 REF impact case studies on the HEFCE website. There are some brilliant and fascinating examples of how researchers have achieved impact, but what strikes me most is how different impact looks across different subjects. At the risk of being flippant, among many of the medical or technological examples there is a familiar pattern and a clear route to impact: make breakthrough; license drug/technology; save lives/millions. For social and political science (not to mention economics, languages, education, philosophy, etc.) the route to impact is much more fragmented. Among the 97 sociology case studies, for example, impact comes from numerous briefings of government officials and parliamentarians, before the academics join "networks" and "committees" discussing their research and wider issues. Their research is covered by national media, they meet even more people practitioners or third sector campaigning organisations to pass on their knowledge. And, after all that, and often a good deal more, sometimes there is a policy or practice change that can be pointed to as a direct impact, sometimes not. Central to much of the impact is "access". Prominent and experienced academics are more likely to get on the committees, know the right journalists and government officials, and have links into third sector organisations, etc. I worked with Professor Sir John Curtice, of election night fame, for a number of years. He didn't need much support. I advised and facilitated, but after 30 years in the game he knew Whitehall (and Holyrood) inside and out and they knew him. But many researchers, especially at the start of their careers, don't... Question: What do researchers need to write about to avoid impact agenda? Options: A. something banal B. something boring C. something groundbreaking D. not enough information === The correct answer is
C

Q: I thought I might get some good ideas if I went down to the hospital. I always have stayed away from hospitals. People died or were born. But now I thought I might get some idea if I went down to where it was all happening, the being born and the dying. Mostly the dying. It was the dying that interested me. I sat on a bench in a sort of waiting room. I wanted to call it a green room; it wasn't a place where the patients would wait to be called by the doctor; it was a place where the relatives would wait while the patient was in their room. It had a coffee bar, and comfortable couches, with trendy, muted colors on the walls and floor. Everything was clean and modern without being cold, a homogenized balancing act designed to keep everyone calm during their stressful time. It was a green room; patients were "guests"; their families were "guests" as well. Here was where the families would sit and be feted while they waited to be called out to perform, to smile and encourage or to don faces of appropriate mournfulness. The old ones would put on smiles, the young ones would look sad. I think I went there because it seemed to me that it was the place richest in emotional impact. It reeked of spent emotions, and the emotions were made all the stronger, here in the green room, by the efforts at suppression--the muted walls and gourmet coffees and scones, the overstuffed loveseats and couches, as if those in grief should not be permitted to sit on benches or folding chairs. It absolutely reeked of hush and hidden feeling. It was worse than a church. It was worse than a highschool hallway. It was more universal, more basic, something even the children could comprehend. Question: What state of mind is the narrator probably in as he leaves the hospital? Options: A. Somberness B. not enough information C. Happiness D. Grief === The correct answer is
A: A

Q: Thank you kindly for A2A, Jill! October 25, 2017. I woke up feeling extremely empty. I had no courage to drag my feet out of bed and I thought: this is it this is going to be the day that I am completely done! I got out of bed knowing I am going to commit suicide.I don't know where, but I do know how. I didn't want to do it at home. I printed out my suicide notes for everybody and hid it somewhere in my room. As I got ready, I took one last glanced to my dad. I gathered all my medications shoved it in to my bag and went out outside caught the bus that goes to college. I had no plans on going into my classes; I sat onto the college bus stop contemplating if I am going to do it. I did it. I chugged down the whole bottle of my anti-depressant. I closed my eyes for a brief moment, I felt like I was about to faint; I checked my phone to see what time was it and I saw my daughter's face on my home screen. I said to myself, "How can you be so stupid?! You have a daughter!" Trying my best to be conscious I caught the bus that goes to the hospital and checked in as a crisis patient in need to see a psychiatrist right away. I told my psychiatrist I tried to kill myself, and he escorted me down to the emergency room and I instantly became a 5150 patient. After 8 hours in the emergency room having full blown panic attacks I got transferred to a psychiatric ward 35 miles away from home. And for 4 days that psychiatric ward became my home. Question: Who escorted the narrator down to the emergency room? Options: A. not enough information B. Psychiatrist C. no one D. nurse === The correct answer is
A: B