(Q).
Article: One early morning, I went into the living room to find my mother reading a thick book called Best Loved Poems to Read Again and Again. My interest was aroused only by the fact that the word "Poems" appeared in big, hot pink letters. "Is it good?" I asked her. "Yeah," she answered. "There's one I really like and you'll like it, too." I leaned forward. "'Patty Poem,'" she read the title. Who is Patty? I wondered. The poem began: She never puts her toys away, Just leaves them scattered1where they lay,...1 The poem was just three short sections. The final one came quickly: When she grows and gathers poise2,2 I'll miss her harum-scarum3noise,3 And look in vain4for scattered toys.4 And I'll be sad. A terrible sorrow washed over me. Whoever Patty was, she was a mean girl. Then, the shock. "It's you, honey," My mother said sadly. To my mother, the poem revealed a parent's affection when her child grows up and leaves. To me, the "she" in the poem was horror. It was my mama who would be sad. It was so terrible I burst out crying. "What's wrong?" my mother asked. "Oh Mama," I cried. "I don't want to grow up ever!" She smiled. "Honey, it's okay. You're not growing up anytime soon. And when you do, I'll still love you, okay?" "Okay," I was still weeping. My panic has gone. But I could not help thinking about that silly poem. After what seemed like a safe amount of time, I read the poem again and was confused. It all fit so well together, like a puzzle. The language was simple, so simple I could plainly understand its meaning, yet it was still beautiful. I was now fascinated by the idea of poetry, words that had the power to make or break a person's world. I have since fallen in love with other poems, but "Patty Poem" remains my poem. After all, "Patty Poem" gave me my love for poetry not because it was the poem that lifted my spirits, but because it was the one that hurt me the most. Question: After her mother read the poem to her, the writer felt _ at first. Yes or no, is the answer "sad"?
(A).
No

(Q).
Article: To communicate well with other people,you must learn to speak well,right? Yes,but speaking isn't everything.Some experts say that only thirty percent of communication comes from talking.Your gestures and other non-verbal actions matter,too.But in different cultures,the same action can have different meanings. When you have to meet someone from a different culture,be prepared.Do you know what kind of gestures and customs are appropriate ? _ In many Western cultures,men stand up before they are introduced to someone important.Standing up shows politeness and respect.After that,somepne usually offers to shake hands. But in the east,typical introductions often begin and end with bowing rather than shaking hands.Sometimes even a small nod of the head is enough.Some Westerners visiting Asia misunderstand shaking hands as a sign of unfriendliness.Such a mistake could be harmful to the start of a new frienship. Question: Which is NOT mentioned in the passage? Yes or no, is the answer "You will do the same when you are introduced."?
(A).
No

(Q).
Article: My grandmother Adele loved culture and was generous with its gifts. When I was a child, she took me to museums, restaurants, dances. She showered me with gifts from her travels around the world. But I can only remember her giving me one book--a book that, to this day, I have not read. She presented me with her own favorite childhood book: Hans Brinker. My grandmother was happy to share this book with me. She even decorated the title page with her proud writing. I tried to read it. I adored reading, and would dive into a new pile of books from the library all at once. But something about Hans Brinker just wouldn't let me in. The story was set in Holland, a long time ago. It felt dull and unfamiliar--even though I was a fan of classics of other times and places. I simply read the first pages over and over. I could not progress. Standing on a bookshelf in our living room, the book was like something I avoided. It scolded me for not being interested, for not trying hard enough, for disappointing my grandmother. The book started to fit in, almost forgotten, until Adele asked. Had I read it? Did I like it? Always determined, she wanted to know the answer. I would make some kind of excuse, feel bad, and open it again, hoping for a new reaction. _ . Years passed and finally Adele and I both accepted that I would never read Hans Brinker. Eventually I cleared the book from the shelf. The Hans Brinker experience led me to set a rule that I've lived by ever since: Do not ask about a book given as a gift. Don't ask, despite your desire to discuss it to grow closer. The desire for such connection is what gives book-giving with special meaning--and increases the owner's possibility to be a letdown. Guilt is basically the same as for all gifts, though. If the giver doesn't have the pleasure of seeing or hearing about the gift being enjoyed, and asks whether it is, then the owner--unless she can truthfully say "yes"--either has to admit to not liking the present, or else lie on the spot. Neither is pleasant. So, don't ask. Question: What does the author think about the book his grandmother gave him? Yes or no, is the answer "Boring."?
(A).
No