input: OPTIONS:
- the daughter does not care about her mum
- the daughter is mean and cruel
- the daughter is thoughtful
- not enough information Now, answer this question: Relatives of a dying lady I was caring for kicking and screaming not to give their Mum pain relief because they were so terrified / knew it would probably be the thing to end her life. She had a horrible aggressive cancer that ravaged her whole body and needed very regular doses of strong pain relief which - as she had a terminal illness and was receiving end of life care - did not have an upper limit so to speak. She had pain relief as and when needed to make her comfortable and that often results in people ultimately overdosing. Mum had Alzheimer's and was howling and writhing in agony so we were giving her pain relief but daughters knew it would probably result in her death - which they were right about possibly happening and in their grief and panic, started trying to prevent us from doing anything. Didn't want us getting near her at all and we had to go through an awful scenario of trying to explain what we had to do for Mum and why and when they still wouldn't have it or allow us near, we had to do what nobody wants and go against their wishes by administering the pain relief anyway. One daughter screamed the place down, threatened to have me arrested and struck off / said she would go to the papers and tell them about how we killed her Mum and in the end she had to be removed from the bedroom. Her Mum was given the pain relief, immediately relaxed and fell asleep then died peacefully in her sleep about 15 mins later. The saddest thing is her daughter wasn't able to be there and see her Mum dropping off so peacefully and her last memory will forever be of her screaming and thrashing about as she (daughter) was physically removed from the room. Tragic. According to the above context, answer the following question. The writer probably believes that
A:
output: the daughter is mean and cruel

Greg Tenorly drove the familiar route from the church to his music studio, studying the homes along the way. He wondered about the families who lived in each one. Like that two-story brick on the corner. What secrets were they hiding? Was the husband abusive? Did a teenager use drugs? Was the family nearly bankrupt? How could anyone know? It was better not to know. The mind can only handle so many problems at one time. He wondered where Troy and Cynthia Blockerman lived. Greg had appeared at the courthouse that morning as part of a jury pool, only to be released. He and the rest of his group would have to return the next morning. He hoped they would not need him. The church would pay his regular part-time salary while he was serving on a jury, but any private lessons he missed would be money lost. Greg's red 1965 Pontiac Bonneville convertible always turned heads as he drove through the small town. He had purchased it two months earlier from a career Navy man down in Longview who had babied the thing for years. It spent most of its life in the man's garage, coming out only when he was on leave. Most trips were to the car wash or the Pontiac dealer for scheduled maintenance. Greg gladly paid $4,000 for it. The sailor called him the very next day and tried to buy it back. He said it was like losing a member of the family. Greg felt bad, but not bad enough to give up the car. How could a 40-year-old car have only 93,000 miles on it? It was dazzling. His little studio was near the town square, nestled between Coreyville Hardware and Susie's Sewing Box. Occasionally he and a student could hear a pipe wrench or hammer hitting the floor on the hardware side. But things were always quiet from Susie's side. At least the soundproofing he had installed kept his neighbors from hearing his students. You can't teach music without hearing both beautiful sounds and sour notes. According to the above context, answer the following question. Where did Greg teach his private lessons?

OPTIONS:
- Somewhere far.
- not enough information
- Somewhere quiet.
- Somewhere loud.

Answer: Somewhere quiet.

Problem: OPTIONS:
- she has overcome trauma.
- not enough information
- she's an excellent role model.
- She is strong and very brave.
Q: As a mother, I'm right now navigating the hardest moment with my two daughters and my son I was raped at 15 and molested by a teacher from 1516 it took 13 years of fighting before I saw any justice for those crimes and it paled in comparison to having to live with that trauma for the last 25 years. I thought I had moved past it for the most part, thanks to supportive family and lots of counseling and medication to treat my treatment resistant depression I've struggled over the last 25 years. I will be 40 this year. My son, the oldest, turned 15 this year the same age I was when it began. I see how young he is and recognized for the first time just how young I had been when I was abused. That was really hard for me, emotionally. Now, I look at my two girls, ages 9 and 3, and worry for their safety - probably more than I should, but understandable given what I went through. We have had lots of "body safety" talks and my older daughter understands the very basics of what I went through, mainly because I have spent a great part of this past year writing a memoir about my experiences and have begun speaking publicly about what I went through and what it means to be a survivor. This is challenging because it's hard to talk about and explain to a child in a way that they understand without making them fear the world. I struggle with this often. I've chosen to use it as an opportunity to teach them about activism and the power of speaking the truth, what it means to be a survivor instead of a victim. I hope they grow up and see just how strong their mother is and how she has worked in the community to raise awareness and help others. According to the above context, answer the following question. What are some truths about the author?
Answer: She is strong and very brave.

Television drama's whole point is to bring you through an often slow start, followed by a complex development to a point where there are two or three potential denouements before, "Cut!", it is the end of the episode and you will have to await the "right answer" in the following week's show. This post came to me at 10pm last night, on Day 16 of this challenge, after a day of holidaying in London and with my head (and feet) too weary to put finger to touchscreen. Mrs Mc and I had just watched another live instalment of Broadchurch, murder mystery extraordinaire, particularly since in the second series there is no actual fresh murder to investigate. The verdict is about to be given on the accused killer from Series 1 when the inevitable happens... Cue title music. This moment has even gained a moniker in British homes, based on the theme tune to the real masters of the four-times-a-week cliffhanger, London-based soap opera Eastenders. It's call a "ba...ba...ba...ba, ba, ba-ba-ba-ba" (YouTube will provide overseas readers with auditory explanation). Eastenders is such a master of writing in the perfect pace that every 28 minute episode ends with a tantalising screen freeze on the latest shocked face / smirking baddy / confused victim. For really big stories the cliffhanger can last significantly longer. This week, to celebrate the show's 30 year birthday, we will finally find out the answer to a question unanswered for the past 14 months: "Who killed Lucy Beale?" Now, most classrooms do not involve murder, incest, dodgy deals and danger, but "good teaching" encourages a type of pacing that totally ignores the ingredients that have millions in the edges of their seats every day: the good old cliffhanger. In fact, we see teachers giving away the punchline at the beginning: "Today we are learning this:..." According to the above context, answer the following question. How long does each Eastenders' drama's episode expected to run?
OPTIONS:
- Few minutes
- 15 minutes
- Almost half an hour
- not enough information

Answer:
Almost half an hour