I have been a teacher for many years and so many of my students have done nice things for me..they are just nice people. I retired last year and was a substitute teacher this last school year. In June a teacher I had just subbed for a half day needed emergency surgery and I was asked to go in and finish her year. Good thing it was in an area I knewEnglish and Social at the grade 9 level. The kids were pretty goodsome were a handful but most of them were very accommodating. They were also writing important provincial exams at the end of the year and were getting stressed out about it. As I was getting them ready to write their exam, I took a few moments to thank them for welcoming me into their classroom and making my jobwhile not easy.at least a rewarding experience. One boy who seemed to complain about everything.thanked me for taking ownership and preparing them for final exams. I had recognized that his argumentative nature was his way of dealing with stress and tried not to let it affect my teaching. That mostly worked. There was a time when I told him, quite loudly, that if he had spent his time getting ready to do assignments instead of arguinghe could have been finished days ago. He just nodded his head and got to work. It was a nice gesture that he was able to thank me for doing my job.that he recognized that some things were out of his control and to just get on with it. A life lesson that I am still learning, by the way. Every day lately, I have had something nice happen to me with my students. I am feeling blessed. Question: What was the nicest thing the student did for the teacher? Options: - A student thanked the teacher - The student appreciated the teacher's surgery. - The student was misbehaving. - not enough information === The correct answer is
A student thanked the teacher

Justin Nelson, Jr., pounded the last of the stakes of his new cattle pen into the dry dirt. Like sentinels, they sprouted in a line from the barn, swerved north of the stream, veered at a right angle for the stump, and followed Justin to where he stood. The cross-beams remained, after which he'd finally be done. He took a white handkerchief from his shirt pocket and wiped his forehead. The task had been lengthened considerably, although Justin refused to admit it, by incessant thinking, an activity which often stopped him with his hammer in mid-air. But now, he would soon be able to think all he wanted from the comfort of his porch as the cattle wandered from shade to shade. After he bought some cattle, he reminded himself. Under the entirely blue vault of sky, Justin felt something pass between himself and the morning sun. His leathered face turned up to see nothing but ubiquitous light, curving toward him in all directions. He arched his aging back, feeling the popping and hating it more than usual, before wiping his neck and replacing the handkerchief. He had that feeling that he'd better drink something and sit down or he'd end up in that damn hospital again. Twice last year, whether he needed it or not, he went in for a check-up, and twice a year, some intern treated him like the village idiot. Truth be told, everyone who knew about him had treated him that way for nearly eleven years, except his niece. With a sigh escaping from the bellows of his withering chest, Justin shuffled back to the porch he had added onto his small two-room home. In the distance, a plume of dust was billowing off the road. Mail truck. Must be time for breakfast. About time I ate something. Question: Where was the cattle pen located? Options: - Near the stump. - Near the barn. - not enough information - North of the stream. === The correct answer is
North of the stream.

Q: It was hot. The smell of blood already hung heavy in the air. The white sands, imported from the far west mountains of limestone, sucked up the fire of the huge red sun. It was always hot in the south desert. Even in the deep of night the stones of Gazu Kadem kept the city warm. Now, at mid-day, it was at its hottest. A quarter of a million people at the arena didn't make it any cooler. The merchants, nobles, and the slaves lucky enough to attend had waited outside Dan Trex's arena for days. They knew the value of entertainment in such a dark world. They wore cowls to protect themselves from the sun as they waited. Entire businesses thrived on the forced mercantile of the captive audience. Food went for thrice its cost to those waiting near the entrance. Water went for five times as much. The arena was as old as the city, built in the days of the old empire for a king now long forgotten. The octagonal arena was a machine, an engine that built warriors out of the raw material of flesh, blood, and steel. Now, thousands of years later, it still served that purpose. The machine had built Dan Trex's army, half a million of the most ruthless and well trained soldiers to ever walk the planet. While one hundred and fifty thousand civilians and slaves got drunk, gambled, shat, fucked, and slept on the stone steps; one hundred thousand of his men sat in silence wearing black and bronze and watching him as Trex walked out into the arena alone and unhelmed. His soldiers watched the games in silence. They made not a sound when twelve of the most beautiful girls to walk on small bare feet were raped and flayed apart by dark priests in a ritual to Gazu Kadem's god-king, Danken Ovelde. They studied the three-horned desert bull as it gored five slaves. They watched the spear technique of four slave armies as they warred in a single great battle. They watched blades of silver spray fans of red blood into the air. They watched vital organs spill onto the white sands. They heard men and women scream as life left them. They... Question: The soldiers watched beautiful girls being raped Options: - After they made a sound - not enough information - before they watched a great battle - after they heard men and women scream === The correct answer is
A: before they watched a great battle