Cheating can happen in a lot of different ways. When people cheat, it's not fair to other people, like the kids who studied for the test or who were the true winners of a game.

Many people like the action of cheating. It makes difficult things seem easy, like getting all the right answers on the test. But it doesn't solve the problem of not knowing the material and it won't help on the next test — unless the person cheats again.

    Some people lose respect for cheaters and think less of them. The cheaters themselves may feel bad because they know they are not really earning that good grade. And, if they get caught cheating, they will be in trouble at school, and maybe at home, too.

    Some kids cheat because they're busy or lazy and they want to get good grades without spending the time studying. Other kids might feel like they can't pass the test without cheating. Even when there seems to be a “good reason” for cheating, cheating isn't a good idea.

    If you were sick or upset about something the night before and couldn't study, it would be better to talk with the teacher about this. And if you don't have enough time to study for a test because of swim practice, you need to talk with your parents about how to balance swimming and school.

    A kid who thinks cheating is the only way to pass a test needs to talk with the teacher and his or her parents so they can find some solutions together. Talking about these problems and working them out will feel better than cheating.

    My grandfather died more than twenty-five years ago. I was fifteen then. He was kind, strong, fair, and very funny. When I was a young musician, he was my biggest fan. I played my violin for him when he visited, and he loved everything, but each time he had one request. “Could you play Amazing Grace%” he asked, full of hope and with a twinkle in his eye, because he knew my answer was always, “I don't know that one!” We went through this routine at every major holiday, and I always figured I'd have time to learn it for him later.

    About the time I entered high school and started guitar, Grandpa got cancer. The last time I saw him alive was Thanksgiving weekend in 1985. My mom warned us that Grandpa didn't look the same anymore and that we should prepare ourselves. For a moment I didn't recognize him. He looked so small among all the white sheets. We had all gathered in Ohio for the holiday, and I'm sure we all knew we were there to say good-bye. I can see now that Grandpa held on long enough to see us each one more time. I remember how we ate in the dining room and laughed and talked while Grandpa rested in his hospital bed. I wonder if it was sad for him to be alone with our voices and laughter. Knowing Grandpa, he was probably content.

    The next morning, I found my moment alone with him. I pulled out my guitar, tuned to his appreciative gaze, and finally played for him Amazing Grace. I had worked on it for weeks, knowing it never mattered whether I actually played it well and choosing not to believe as I played that it was my last concert for my biggest fan. The cancer had stolen his smile, but I saw joy in his eyes. He held my hand afterward, and I knew I had done something important.

    I argued with people all through college about my music major. I was told by strangers that music wouldn't make me any money and it wasn't useful like being a doctor. But I know first-hand that with music I was able to give my grandpa something at a point when no one else could.

    We were on tour a few summers ago, driving through Chicago， when right outside of the city, we got pulled over(被迫停车). A middle-aged policeman came up to the car and was really being troublesome at first. He said,“ You were speeding. Where are you going in such a hurry?” Our guitarist, Tim, told him that we were on our way to Wisconsin to play a show. Then his way towards us totally changed. He asked, “Oh, so you boys are in a band(乐队)?” We told him that we were. He then asked all the usual band questions about the type of music we played and how long we had been at it.

    Suddenly, he stopped and said, “Tim, you want to get out of this ticket, don't you?” Tim said, “Yes.” So the officer asked him to step out of the car. The rest of us, inside the car, didn't know what to think as we watched the policeman talk to Tim. Then the policeman put Tim in the back of the police car and threw the car into reverse(倒车), stopping a few feet in back of our car.

    Now we suddenly felt frightened. We didn't know if we were all going to prison. Suddenly, the policeman's voice came over in a loudspeaker. He said, “Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time ever, we have Tim here singing on Route 90.” Later we knew, the policeman had told Tim that if he sang one of our songs over the loudspeaker in the police car, we would get out of the ticket. Seconds later, Tim started screaming into the receiver. The policeman enjoyed the performance, and sent us on our way without a ticket.

    Machines equipped with artificial intelligence (AI) have performed better than human beings in a high-level test of reading comprehension. Two natural language processing tools received higher test scores than humans in recent exams.

    One of the tools is a product of the American software maker Microsoft. The other was created by the Chinese online seller Alibaba Group. The company said that a deep-learning model developed by its Institute of Data Science of Technologies was the first to beat a human score in the reading comprehension test.

    The test is called the Stanford Question Answering Dataset. It was developed by researchers at Stanford University in California. It has over 100,000 questions and answers. They are based on information found in over 500 stories from the Wikipedia website. The answers to all the questions come from the reading material.

    The AI-powered machines were tested on whether they could provide exact answers to the questions after processing large amounts of information.

    Alibaba said its deep neural (神经的) network model received an “Exact Match” score of 82.44 on the Stanford test. Microsoft reported that a team at Microsoft Research Asia had a score of 82.65. It said the human score on the same questions and answers was 82.304. Many research organizations also appeared on the list—all with scores below 82.

    Alibaba said it has already used its reading comprehension model in different parts of its business. For example, the company is using machines to answer many incoming telephone calls from customers. The company says in the future, the technology could enable machines to guide visitors through museums or provide advice to medical patients.

    Microsoft noted that, overall, people are still much better than machines at understanding the complexity and nuances (细微差别) of language.

    I took down the violin I made in the past two months, and walked towards the farmland outside. The violin shined in the sunlight, and I admitted, unwillingly, that it looked good. But I knew it was a mockery (笑柄) of my failure to find beauty.

    “What makes a violin beautiful?”

    I first asked this question as a three-year-old child and now again as a teenager. When I listened to a violin for the first time, I was so astonished by its beauty that I imagined a fairy living in the wooden frame. But fairies faded when I grew older. I wanted a reasonable answer to the question.

    I referred to Professor Ruan, my violin teacher, who introduced the violin to me 14 years ago. This 85-year-old man rhapsodized about (热烈赞美)the legend of Antonio Stradivari. “His violins are the most beautiful works human has ever crafted.” “Make a violin with your own hands," Professor Ruan suggested, "When you play it, you'll know.”

    However, when Professor Ruan introduced to me a violin workshop, what I saw was far from my expectation. In front of me was a fat worker, shirtless and sunburned, soon to become my master. What shocked me most was that the “master” knew nearly nothing about music. His rough hands had been tending crops, not instruments, for most of his life.

Two months later, standing outside the workshop, I was disappointed. Yes, I just finished or copied a Stradivarius violin. But I didn't find beauty in it. Then I remembered Professor Ruan's words, "When you play it, you'll know.” So I closed my eyes, and focused on where my fingers and strings touched. Music flowed suddenly so beautifully that for a moment I doubted my own ears. Slowly I opened my eyes, and with surprise found the fairy of my childhood fantasy dancing to my music — the two-year-old daughter of the master.

    Professor Ruan was right. I didn't find beauty until I played music with the violin, because beauty isn't in the instrument itself. It's just here, deep down, in ourselves.