Are we getting more stupid? According to Gerald Crabtree, a scientist at Stanford University in the US, we are.  You may not want to hear this, but Crabtree believes that human intelligence reached its peak more than 2,000 years ago and ever since then has been going downhill. “If an average Greek from 1,000 BC were transported to modern times, he or she would be one of the brightest among us,” Crabtree told The Guardian.

    At the heart of Crabtree's thinking is a simple idea. In the past, intelligence was critical for survival when our ancestors had to avoid dangerous animals and hunt for food. The difference of being smart or stupid is often life or death. However, after the spread of agriculture, when our ancestors began to live in dense ( 稠密的）farming communities, the need to keep their intelligence in peak condition gradually reduced. This is not hard to understand. Most of the time,pressure is what keeps us going – you need the pressure from your teachers to finish your homework; the pressure of looking pretty prompts(促使) you to lose weight when summer comes. And the same is also true of our intelligence – if we think less, we become less smart.

    These mutations(变) are harmful to our intelligence and they were all developed in the past 3,000 years. The other evidence that Crabtree holds is in our genes. He found that among the 2,000 to 5,000 genes that we have that determine human intelligence , there are two or more mutations in each of us. However, Crabtree's theory has been criticized by some who say that early humans may have better hunting and surviving abilities, but people today have developed a more diverse intelligence. For example, spearing a tiger doesn't necessarily require more brainpower than playing chess or writing a poem. Moreover, the power of modern education means a lot more people have the opportunity to learn nowadays. “You wouldn't get Stephen Hawking 2,000 years ago. He just wouldn't exist,” Thomas Hills of the University of Warwick, UK, told Live Science. “But now we have people of his intellectual capacity doing things and making insights(洞察力) that we would never have achieved in our environment of evolutionary adaptation.”

    At times my mom has been uncomfortable seeing these qualities in me. For example, when I was 12, I went to Puerto Rico all by myself to stay with my grandmother for the summer. My mom was extremely nervous about it. She kept telling me how things were different in Puerto Rico, to always put on sunscreen, not to wander away from my grandmother, and other warnings. She helped me pack and did not leave the airport until she saw my plane take off.

    But despite her worries, she let me go on my own. As I moved into my teens, she continued to give me space to grow and learn even when it might have been difficult for her. When I reached my senior year, I decided to move away for college. Once again I found that I differed from my peers: while many of them wanted to stay close to home, I couldn't wait to be out in the world on my own. While my mom may not have been happy at the thought of me going away, she was supportive and excited for me.

    One big thing I realized during my senior year, as my mom granted me more freedom, was that she actually believes in me and trusts me. That means a lot. Most of my life, and especially when I was little, the main person I tried to impress in my schoolwork or other things was my mother. I knew she expected nothing but the best from me. Sometimes it was hard to live up to her standards; getting a single B on my report card would make me feel bad because I knew she wanted me to have all A's.

    I know that her high standards have helped me stay focused on what's important, like education, and made me who I am. I am thankful for her support and involvement in my life. Most of all I respect her. She is the strongest woman I know and that's why I have turned out so strong and independent.

    That cold January night, I was growing sick of my life in San Francisco. There I was walking home at one in the morning after a tiring practice at the theatre. With opening night only a week ago, I was still learning my lines. I was having trouble dealing with my part-time job at the bank and my acting at night at the same time. As I walked, I thought seriously about giving up both acting and San Francisco. City life had become too much for me.

    As I walked down empty streets under tall buildings, I felt very small and cold. I began running, both to keep warm and to keep away from any possible robbers. Very few people were still out except a few sad-looking homeless people under blankets.

    About a block from my apartment, I heard a sound behind me. I turned quickly, half expecting to see someone with a knife or a gun. The street was empty. All I saw was a shining streetlight. Still, the noise had made me nervous, so I started to run faster. Not until I reached my apartment building and unlocked the door did I realize what the noise had been. It had been my wallet falling to the sidewalk.

    Suddenly I wasn't cold or tired anymore. I ran out of the door and back to where I'd heard the noise. Although I searched the sidewalk anxiously for fifteen minutes, my wallet was nowhere to be found. Just as I was about to give up the search, I heard the garbage truck(垃圾车) pull up to the sidewalk next to me. When a voice called from the inside, "Alisa Camacho?" I thought I was dreaming. How could this man know my name? The door opened, and out jumped a small red-haired man with an amused look in his eye. "Is this what you're looking for?" he asked, holding up a small square shape.

    It was nearly 3 a.m. by the time I got into bed. I wouldn't get much sleep that night, but I had gotten my wallet back. I also had gotten back some enjoyment of city life. I realized that the city couldn't be a bad place as long as people were willing to help each other.

    The evening arrived; the boys took their places. The master, in his cooled uniform, stood at the table; his poor helpers were behind him; the gruel (稀粥) was served out; and after they spoke to God to give thanks, there was little time left to eat. The gruel disappeared immediately; the boys whispered each other, and encouraged Oliver to ask for more. Oliver was very hungry and decided to take a risk. He rose from the table; and went to the master, plate and spoon in hand, said:

"Please, sir, I want some more."

    ①

    The master was a fat, healthy man; but he turned very pale. He looked at Oliver in great surprise for some seconds, and nearly fell but for the support to the table. The helpers were frozen with wonder; the boys with fear.

"What!" said the master at last, in a confused voice.

"Please, sir," replied Oliver, "I want some more."

    The master hit Oliver's head with the ladle; and screamed for Mr. Bumble.

    ②

    The board were sitting in plotting (密谋) something, when Mr. Bumble rushed into the room in great excitement, and spoke to the gentleman loudly in the high chair, said:

"Mr. Limbkins, I beg your pardon, sir! Oliver Twist has asked for more!"

    ③

"For more!" said Mr. Limbkins. "Calm yourself, Bumble, and answer me clearly. Do I understand that he asked for more, after he had eaten the supper allotted (配给) by the dietary?"

"He did, sir, "replied Bumble.

"That boy will be hung, " said the gentleman in white. "I know that boy will be hung."

    Nobody was against the gentleman's opinion. A heated discussion took place. Oliver was put in a cold, dark room and no boys were allowed to talk to him; and a bill was next morning pasted on the outside of the gate, offering a reward of five pounds to anybody who would take Oliver Twist off the hands of the parish (教区).In other words, five pounds and Oliver Twist were offered to any man or woman who wanted an apprentice to any trade, business, or calling.

    ④

"I never was more convinced of anything in my life, "said the gentleman in white, as he knocked at the gate and read the bill next morning: "I never was more convinced of anything in my life, than I am that that boy will come to be hung."

    I never planned to be a teacher. I was headed for a law school, for a real career. Teaching was something to "get out of my system". I would teach a couple of years and then go to get a real job. After the first couple of years, I promised myself I would leave if I didn't love my job any more. Twenty-nine years later, that day still has not come.

    So, why do I stay? I stay because I laugh and learn every day. The children are funny, insightful, and honest. If my shoes don't match my outfit, they tell me. If my argument that Invisible Man is an important twentieth century classics doesn't convince them, they tell me.

    I stay because every single day is different. Some days, my lessons are great, and I have classes of students who are engaged in reading, writing and thinking. Some days, my lessons fall flat, and I realize that I need to start from scratch — even after 29 years.

    I stay because I love to see the children realize that they have learned something — whether it's how to craft an argumentative thesis sentence or how to understand the effect of repetition in The Declaration of Independence. I love to see the children write well; I love the feeling of reading a well-argued essay, and I love smiling as I write a final "Awesome job!" on a paper on which a student has worked hard.

    I stay because what I've learned in 29 years is that I do have a "real" job — the most real job there is. It's the one that leads to other jobs, that helps to create good thinkers who go on to be productive in our society, and that supports our community as it grows and times change. My job is among the ones that matter most.

On the day the tornado hit, there was no indication severe weather was on its way—the sky was blue and the sun had been out. The first alert my husband, Jimmy, 67, and I, 65, got came around 9 p. m. , from some scrolling text on the TV Jimmy was watching. He ran upstairs to find me in our third-floor bedroom, and we changed the channel from the presidential primary debate I had been watching to our local Pensacola, Florida, station.

No sooner had we found coverage of the tornado than it was on top of us. It was the loudest thing I have ever heard. The bones of the house shook, and the power went out. Pink insulation flew into the room from a trapdoor to the attic, and the wind began to roar through the house.

I didn't know how or if we would make it down the steps. It felt as if there were no floor underneath me as the wind lifted me off my feet. I gripped the banister (栏杆) and tried to move forward, but this intense pressure held me in place.

By the time I reached the closet, the tornado had been over us for about a minute. Jimmy pushed me down to the closet floor, but he couldn't get inside himself because of the wind. I gripped Jimmy's arm. My knees and scalp were full of glass, but in that moment, I felt no pain.

All of a sudden, Jimmy lifted off his feet like people in tornadoes do in the movies. I thought he was gone. And then everything stopped. He landed on his feet. In those first quiet moments, I couldn't believe it was over. Jimmy said he'd go outside to check. "No," I said. "Don't leave me. "

Our neighbor says the storm lasted four minutes. In that time, four of the twelve town houses in our unit were completely destroyed. Of the houses left standing, ours suffered the most damage. Amazingly, none of us were severely injured.