Read the following context and answer the question. Context: It was a dream, then a place, then a memory. My father built it near the Suwannee River. I like to think it was in the heart of Florida, because it was, and is, in my heart. Its name was Dogland. Some people say you can know others if you know the central incidents that shaped their lives. But an incident is an island in time, and to know the effect of the island on those who land there, you must know something about the river they have traveled. And I must warn you before we begin, I don't know that river well. I visit that time and place like a ghost with poor vision and little memory. I look up the river and see fog rolling in. I look down the river, and the brightness of the approaching day blinds me. I see shapes moving behind me and beyond me, but who they are and what they do, I cannot say. I will tell what I know is true, and I will invent what I believe is true, and that, I think, is all you can ask any storyteller to do. I learned the Nix family history from the stories Pa told. Even at the age of four, I suspected that Pa's stories might not be perfectly true. When Pa said we Nixes came to North America as indentured servants working our way out of debtor's prison, Grandma Bette would make a face and say he couldn't know that. When he said we Nixes had Lakota and Ojibwe blood in our veins, Grandma Bette would say she wasn't prejudiced, but it simply wasn't so: she and Pa and his brothers and sisters were dark because her people were Black Dutch, from a part of Holland where everyone had black hair and black eyes. And then Grandma Bette wouldn't say a word for half an hour or more, a very long time for Grandma Bette to be quiet. Question: How long did it take for the author's father to build Dogland? Answer:

OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- Generation
- Decade or less
- Multiple generations

Answer: Decade or less

Problem: OPTIONS:
- Psychology
- Math
- Criminal Justice
- not enough information
Q: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: I recall just one case of its kind. In my first year out of high school in college, I didn't quite get along with one vocal pipsqueak of a guy. Mid-year one afternoon post-dismissal, a small white car drove past dangerously close to me and honked as I made my way to the bus stand home. If there had actually been any malice intended, I would have been caught out totally by surprise. The next day, he wondered aloud why I did not respond or react to him flippantly wanting to ram me with his car as he drove by. To think of it, I had already taken a swipe at another guy whom I suspected of being behind the wheel less than an hour earlier. Professing some half-hearted disinterest, I thought and felt to myself that this episode wasn't over - yet. Fast forward some 4560 days later, this guy is suddenly absent from college for almost a week. Successive class lecturers note that it is not like him to skip classes without a valid reason. Late on the second day of absence, another lecturer asks our class about him. "His car crashed.", I state almost flippantly, with a weak spirit of retribution shining inside my gut. But as you would realize from answering this question it later turned out to be true. While driving at quite a clip near his home, he had barreled through a residential cross-junction and broadsided a delivery van that had charged through the open junction with no regulating traffic lights. The van ended up upside down on the road shoulder and his parents-issued car was out of commission for like, three weeks. He suffered a concussion and a shattered nasal septum from the impact and police issued the van driver a ticket for dangerous driving. Basically, he had joked about striking me with his car hit-and-run and I had later joked to that lecturer and the class that he had crashed his car - and it turned out I was right. Question: What is narrator's major? Answer:
Answer: not enough information

input with options: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: Alona's persistent knocking at the door of room 412 went unanswered for three minutes as she nervously shuffled her feet. Her book bag was super-saturated with textbooks, notebooks, schedules, rough drafts, and various other forms of academic paraphernalia. It was getting heavier. She continued to knock, even though there had as yet been no answer, because the note card tacked to the right of the door indicated that these indeed were Prof. Turgy K. Sigger's office hours. She could see the light under the door and thought she had heard a groan. Just before she decided to give up, slow feet approached from the opposite side, then silence; with a dramatic turn of the knob, the door swung open. "Was this trip really necessary?" asked Prof. Sigger, blinking and brushing his oily, graying hair back into place. "These are your office hours," Alona replied. She nervously smiled, feeling the corners of her mouth twitch. Somewhere in the darkened hall, a janitor coughed. "All right," conceded Prof. Sigger. "Come in." The carpet was smothered by leaning towers of textbooks. Papers lined the left side of the desk, above which was a small note card which read "To Be Graded." On the right side, the oak finish gleamed of the mid-morning light piercing the Venetian blinds. "You've come about your final project," Prof. Sigger stated. "It's only mid-term," Alona reminded him. "Oh yes, yes," continued Prof. Sigger, without conscious embarrassment. "Mid-term grade. I think I have it here. Somewhere." His hands disappeared into the left side of his desk. "You told the class that we would get a C if we maintained that Coca-Cola isn't a crypto-fascist conspiracy." "Oh yes," said Prof. Sigger. "We were discussing social issues, as I remember. I was quoting Marx and some little idiot brought up Rush Limbaugh." "That was me," Alona muttered. Question: After Alona's conversation with Prof. Sigger, how does she likely feel? Answer:
OPTIONS:
- confident
- not enough information
- happy
- embarassed
output:
embarassed