In this task, you're given an article and an answer. Your task is to generate the question for the answer based on the given article.

Ex Input:
Article: Born with easy-broken bone disease, Zhang Yonghong is only half a meter tall and must use a wheelchair. His thin arms and legs can hardly support any weight, and he is unable to take care of himself. However, his hands are able to produce fine paper-cuts, which will free his daughter from the same disease. To support himself, he learned how to make paper-cut art from his mother. He sold his artwork and taught his techniques in Xi'an for eight years before discovering his young daughter _ the disease from him, leading Zhang to move his family to Beijing for his daughter's better treatment five years ago. The daughter's treatment costs about 30,000 yuan a year. The family's savings was used up in two years, and Zhang was forced to start to sell his work in underground passages with his healthy wife, who soon left him because of the hard life. With a little help from government, he was lucky to meet some kindhearted people in Beijing. A Hong Kong businessman gave 60,000 yuan to him last year to treat the girl and start a small shop on Qiangulouyuan, which is known as a famous hutong that attracts lots of tourists over holidays. Zhang Rui, a university graduate, spends most of her time helping Zhang sell the paper-cuts, translating the stories of the paper-cuts into English and selling the works on the roadside of Nanluoguxiang. However, the artist still lives beyond his income and struggles to continue his small business. "Selling paper-cuts is his only source of income. Without this, he can't support the family and treat his daughter," says Zhang Rui, who hopes more people will help Zhang.
Answer: His easy-broken bone disease affected him.

Ex Output:
Why did Zhang grow only half a meter tall?

Ex Input:
Article: Many of us have heard stories about teachers who can "see" into a student's future. Even if a student is not performing well, they can predict success. We are convinced that this ability, this gift, is evidence that they were "called to teach" . If the gift of sight is evidence, how greater must be the gift of touch. I have a story. I grew up in the fifties in a poor African American neighborhood in Stockton, California, that had neither sidewalks nor an elementary school. Each day, always in groups at our parents' insistence, my friends and I would leave home early enough to walk eight blocks to school and be in our seats when the bell rang. For four blocks, we walked on dusty roads. By the fifth block, we walked on sidewalks that led to lovely homes and to Fair Oaks Elementary School. It was at Fair Oaks, in a sixth grade English class, that I met Ms. Victoria Hunter, a teacher who had a huge influence on my life. During reading periods, she would walk around the room, stop at our desks, stand over us for a second or two, and then touch us. Without saying anything to us (nothing could break the silence of reading periods), she would place two fingers lightly on our throats and hold them there for seconds. I learned many years later when I was a student at Stanford University that teachers touch the throat of students to check for sub-vocalization , which slows down the reading speed. I did not know at the time why Ms. Hunter was touching our throats, but I was a serious and respectful student and so, during silent reading period, I did what Ms. Hunter told us to do. I kept my eyes on the material I was reading and waited for her to place her fingers lightly on my throat. One day, out of curiosity, I raised my head from my book -- though not high -- so that I could see Ms. Hunter, a white woman from Canada, moving up and down the rows, stopping at the desks of my classmates. I wanted to see how they reacted when she touched their throats. She walked past them. I was confused. Did she pass them by because they were model students? What did we, the students who were touched, not do right? I sat up straighter in my chair, thinking that my way of sitting might be the problem. I was confused. Several days later, I watched again, this time raising my head a little higher. Nothing changed. Ms. Hunter touched the same students. Always, she touched me. She touched me with her hands. She also touched me with her belief in my ability to achieve. She motivated me by demanding the best from me and by letting teachers I would meet in junior high school know that I should be challenged, that I would be serious about my work. I am convinced that she touched me because she could "see" me in the future. That was true of all of us at Fair Oaks who sat still and silent as Ms. Hunter placed her fingers lightly on our throats. We left Fair Oaks as "best students," entered John Marshall Junior High School, finished at the top of our high school class, and went on to earn graduate degrees in various subjects. Ms. Hunter saw us achieving and she touched us to make certain that we would. I was not surprised that she came to my graduation ceremony at Edison High School in Stockton or that she talked to me about finishing college and earning a Ph. D. She expected that of me. She gave me a beautifully wrapped box. Inside was a gift, the beauty of which multiplies even as it touches me: _ .
Answer: The ability to predict the near future of a poor student.

Ex Output:
According to the writer, what is a special ability many good teachers possess?

Ex Input:
Article: The rumors had been spreading for months but it still came as a shock when the hospital would be closing. It had served this poor neighborhood for nearly 100 years but it would close because of the health care crisis. The day after the announcement co-workers found out that pretzels had been _ . Soft pretzels are the lifeblood of this city. So losing access to soft pretzels is no small matter. A week later, I decided to cheer up my co-workers by picking up some soft pretzels at a local store. I arrived just as it opened so I was the only customer. But I only had $6 in my wallet. I was working inside a large office at the hospital and knew I'd need more than the half dozen pretzels my six dollars would buy. A man's voice interrupted my thoughts. "Can I help you?" I said, "I only have $6. I'm not sure how many pretzels I need. You see, I work at a hospital and it's closing and they stopped selling pretzels." The man's smile disappeared. "What hospital?" "Oh, Northeastern Hospital." The guy looked deeply shocked. "I used to sell medical supplies and that was one of my hospitals." Then he turned around and grabbed a box of 25 pretzels and slid them across the counter. I was surprised by his generosity and started to reach for my wallet, "Oh I can pay. Please let me ..." The guy smiled, "Just tell them Joe Sullivan said to do something nice for someone else." And so that day everyone in medical records was treated to a soft pretzel. Word spread fast as people came asking, "Is it really true?" It was as if I'd carried in a box of gold. It mattered to them that a stranger cared.
Answer: To make them feel less sad.

Ex Output:
Why did the author decide to buy pretzels for his co-workers?