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Article: My daughter Allie is leaving for college in a week. Her room is piled with shopping bags filled with blankets, towels, jeans, sweaters. She won't talk about going. I say, "I'm going to miss you," and she gives me one of her looks and leaves the room. Another time I say, in a voice so friendly it surprises even me: "Do you think you'll take your posters and pictures with you, or will you get new ones at college?" She answers, her voice filled with annoyance, "How should I know?" My daughter is off with friends most of the time. Yesterday was the last day she'd have until Christmas with her friend Katharine, whom she's known since kindergarten. Soon, it will be her last day with Sarah, Claire, Heather... and then it will be her last day with me. My friend Karen told me, "The August before I left for college, I screamed at my mother the whole month. Be prepared." I stand in the kitchen, watching Allie make a glass of iced tea. Her face, once so open and trusting, is closed to me. I struggle to think of something to say to her, something meaningful and warm. I want her to know I'm excited about the college she has chosen, that I know the adventure of her life is just starting and that I am proud of her. But the look on her face is so mad that I think she might hit me if I open my mouth. One night -- after a long period of silence between us -- I asked what I might have done or said to make her angry with me. She sighed and said, "Mom, you haven't done anything. It's fine." It is fine -- just distant. Somehow in the past we had always found some way to connect. When Allie was a baby, I would go to the day-care center after work. I'd find a quiet spot and she would nurse -- our eyes locked together, reconnecting with each other. In middle school, when other mothers were already regretting the distant relationship they felt with their adolescent daughters, I hit upon a solution: rescue measures. I would show up occasionally at school, sign her out of class and take her somewhere -- out to lunch, to the movies,... Question: Why is there a period of silence between the author and Allie one night? Yes or no, is the answer "Allie is anxious about talking about leaving."?
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No

(Q).
Article: Baekeland and Hartmann report that the " short sleepers" had been more or less average in their sleep needs until the men were in their teens. But at about age 15 0r so, the men voluntarily began cutting down their nightly sleep time because of pressures from school, work, and other activities. These men tended to regard their nightly periods of unconsciousness as bothersome interruptions in their daily routines. In general, these "short sleepers" appeared ambitious, active, energetic and cheerful. They stuck to their opinions, and were very sure about their job choices..They often held several jobs at once, or worked full-or part-time while going to school. And many of them had a strong urge to appear "normal" or " acceptable" to their friends and colleagues. When asked to remember their dreams, the " short sleepers" did poorly. More than this, they seemed to prefer not remembering. Similarly, their usual way of dealing with psychological problems was not to admit that the problem existed, and then to keep busy in the hope that the trouble would go away. The sleep patterns of the " short sleepers" were similar to, but less extreme than, sleep patterns shown by many mental patients categorized as manic . The "long sleepers" were quite different indeed. Baekeland and Hanmann report that these young men have been lengthy sleepers since childhood. They seemed to enjoy their sleep, protected it, and were quite concemed when sometimes they didn't have their desired 9 hours of nightly bed rest. They tended to remember their dreams much better than the " short sleepers". Many of the "long sleepers" were shy, anxious, quiet, nervous, passive, mildly depressed, and unsure of themselves ( particularly in social situations) . Several openly stated that sleep was an escape from their daily problems. Question: Many "short sleepers" are likely to hold the view that _ . Yes or no, is the answer "sleep is not so important as their daily activities"?
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No

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Article: Edward Wilson is America's, if not the world's, leading naturalist. In The Future of Life, he takes us on a tour of the world's natural resources. How are they used? What has been lost? What remains and is it able to continue with the present speed of use? Wilson also points out the need to understand fully the biodiversity of our earth. Wilson begins with an open letter to the pioneer in environment protection, Henry David Thoreau. He compares today's Walden Pond with that of Thoreau's day. Wilson will use such comparisons for the rest of the book. The problem is clear: man has done great damage to his home over the years. Can the earth, with human help, be made to return to biodiversity levels that will be able to support us in the future? Biodiversity, Wilson argues, is the key to settling many problems the earth faces today. Even our agricultural crops can gain advantages from it. A mere hundred species are the basis of our food supply, of which but twenty carry the load. Wilson suggests changing this situation by looking into ten thousand species that could be made use of, which will be a way to reduce the clearing of the natural homes of plants and animals to enlarge farming areas. At the end of the book, Wilson discusses the importance of human values in considering the environment. If you are to continue to live on the earth, you may as well read and act on the ideas in this book. Question: Wilson suggests that one way to keep biodiversity is to _ . Yes or no, is the answer "use more species for food"?
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No