Unlike most other holidays, the history of April Fools' Day. Sometimes called All Fools' Day, is not as the totally clear. The only point in time that can be agreed on as the beginning of this tradition was 1582,in France. Before that year, the New Year was celebrated for eight days, beginning  on March 25.The reform of the calendar celetxration reached the highest point on April l_With the riform of the calendar under Charles 1X,the Gregorian calendar (公历, 阳历）was introduced, and New Year's Day was moved to January 1.

    However, because in those days communications were not as developed as they are today, many people did not receive the news for several years. Some people refused to accept the new calendar and continued to celebrate the New Year on April, These backward people were considered “foots” by other peopk. They were often sent on “fools” errands (徒劳无益的工作)or were made the taragets of jokes.

    This developed, over time, into a tradition of playing a trick on someone on the first day of April. The tradition eventully spread to England and Scotland in the eightreenth century. It was later introduced to the American colonies of both the Britain and Francc.April Fools' Day thus developed into an  international fun feast,so to speak,with different nationalities specializing in their own kind of humor at the expense of their friends and families.

    We've considered several ways of paying to cut in line: hiring line standers, buying tickets from scalpers (票贩子), or purchasing line-cutting privileges directly from, say, an airline or an amusement park. Each of these deals replaces the morals of the queue (waiting your turn) with the morals of the market (paying a price for faster service).

    Markets and queues—paying and waiting—are two different ways of allocating things, and each is appropriate to different activities. The morals of the queue, “First come, first served, have an egalitarian (平等主义的) appeal. They tell us to ignore privilege, power, and deep pockets.

    The principle seems right on playgrounds and at bus stops. But the morals of the queue do not govern all occasions. If I put my house up for sale, I have no duty to accept the first offer that comes along, simply because it's the first. Selling my house and waiting for a bus are different activities, properly governed by different standards.

    Sometimes standards change, and it is unclear which principle should apply. Think of the recorded message you hear, played over and over, as you wait on hold when calling your bank: “Your call will be answered in the order in which it was received.” This is essential for the morals of the queue. It's as if the company is trying to ease our impatience with fairness.

    But don't take the recorded message too seriously. Today, some people's calls are answered faster than others. Call center technology enables companies to “score” incoming calls and to give faster service to those that come from rich places. You might call this telephonic queue jumping.

    Of course, markets and queues are not the only ways of allocating things. Some goods we distribute by merit, others by need, still others by chance. However, the tendency of markets to replace queues, and other non-market ways of allocating goods is so common in modern life that we scarcely notice it anymore. It is striking that most of the paid queue-jumping schemes we've considered—at airports and amusement parks, in call centers, doctors' offices, and national parks—are recent developments, scarcely imaginable three decades ago. The disappearance of the queues in these places may seem an unusual concern, but these are not the only places that markets have entered.

    Thomas Hardy, probably the most searching and knowledgeable novelist of our time, was born on June 2, 1840, in Dorsetshire, England. He died on January 11, 1928. In his youth, Hardy read much and dreamt of becoming a poet, but he studied and practiced architecture as an assistant to a London architect, winning a prize for design. The fine descriptions of structure in his novels were probably somewhat due to his architectural training.

    For five years he worked hard to practise writing poetry, but when he was twenty-seven, Hardy turned to fiction. His first story was accepted two years later, but upon the advice of George Meredith he decided not to publish it. His first novel, Desperate Remedies, appeared in 1871. During the next twenty-five years he published fourteen novels and two collections of short stories.

    Under the Greenwood Tree (1872) he never surpassed (超越) in happy and delicate perfection of art. This and his next novel, A pair of Blue Eyes (1873), begin to show deep irony (讽刺) which is so obvious throughout Hardy's writings.

    Far from the madding Crowd (1874) was his first popular success. In it is shown Hardy's amazing power of describing nature as symbolic background for his characters, an organic part of the action of his story. This was the earliest of what he called his novels of character and environment, which included The Return of the Native, Tess of D'Urbervilles, his masterpiece, and Jude the Obscure. Not until he was fifty-eight years old was his first collection of poems published, and he was sixty-four when the first part of The Dymats, surprised the literary world.

    When men and women take personality tests, some of the old Mars-Venus stereotypes(定式)keep reappearing. On average, women are more cooperative, kind, cautious and emotionally enthusiastic. Men tend to be more competitive, confident, rude and emotionally flat. Clear differences appear in early childhood and never disappear.

    What's not clear is the origin of these differences. Evolutionary psychologists think that these are natural features from ancient hunters and gatherers. Another school of psychologists argues that both sexes' personalities have been shaped by traditional social roles, and that personality differences will shrink as women spend less time taking care of children and more time in jobs outside the home.

    To test these hypotheses(假设), a series of research teams have repeatedly analyzed personality tests taken by men and women in more than 60 countries around the world. For evolutionary psychologists, the bad news is that the size of the gender gap in personality varies among cultures. For social-role psychologists, the bad news is that the change is going in the wrong direction. It looks as if personality differences between men and women are smaller in traditional cultures like India's or Zimbabwe's than in the Netherlands or the United States. A husband and a stay-at-home wife in a patriarchal(男权的)Botswanan clan(部族)seem to be more alike than a working couple in Denmark or France. The more Venus and Mars have equal rights and similar jobs, the more their personalities seem to separate.

    These findings are so unbelievable that some researchers have argued they must be due to cross-cultural problems with the personality tests. But according to new data from 40.000 men and women on six continents, David P. Schmitt and his colleagues conclude that the trends are real. Dr. Schmitt, a psychologist at Bradley University in Illinois and the director of the International Sexuality Description Project, suggests that as wealthy modern societies level(使平等)the barriers between women and men, some ancient internal differences are being developed.

    The biggest changes recorded by the researchers involve the personalities of men, not women.

    Men in traditional agricultural societies and poorer countries seem more cautious and anxious, less confident and less competitive than men in the most progressive and rich countries of Europe and North America.

    To explain these differences, Dr. Schmitt and his partners from Austria and Estonia point to the hardships of life in poorer countries. They note that in some other species, environmental stress tends to extremely affect the larger sex. And, they say, there are examples of stress decreasing biological sex differences in humans.

    On August 5 just after 7.30 pm, Mike Estepa suffered a massive heart attack. The crazy cyclist was 40 kilometres into his Sunday ride when he stopped by the side of the road to text his family saying he'd be home in about 30 minutes. Moments later, he was lying in the ditch, unconscious.

    Larissa Arthur was driving back to Calgary from a hike in Field, B. C. with a friend. It was a warm and sunny day, and the two were chatting when a flush of yellow caught Arthur's eyes. She immediately pulled off the road.

    As Arthur approached the figure, she feared the worst: Estepa was covered in ants and exhibited no signs of life. There was no pulse and he wasn't breathing." says Arthur. A bystander called 911 and Arthur, a registered nurse, started chest compressions. She and two other drivers took turns carrying out CPR for the next 15 minutes before medical teams arrived and whisked Estepa away.

    Two days later, when Estepa woke up in the hospital, he was shocked to learn he had gone into cardiac arrest (心脏骤停). How did this happen, and, why was he lucky enough to have survived? He was full of gratitude and needed to speak with the woman who had saved him, whom he named his "angel".

    "It was emotional," says Arthur of her meeting with Estepa a few weeks later. Saving his life had extra importance for her: the bike she was returning from that day was one of 100 she's planned to honour her father, who died in 2017 after he fell during a hike that Arthur was meant to be on. "I couldn't save my father's life." Arthur says, "but this was a chance for me to save someone."

By now you've probably heard about the "you're not special" speech, when English teacher David McCullough told graduating seniors at Wellesley High School: "Do not get the idea you're anything special, because you're not." Mothers and fathers present at the ceremony — and a whole lot of other parents across the Internet — took issue with McCullough's ego-puncturing words. But lost in the uproar was something we really should be taking to heart: our young people actually have no idea whether they're particularly talented or accomplished or not. In our eagerness to elevate their self-esteem, we forgot to teach them how to realistically assess their own abilities, a crucial requirement for getting better at anything from math to music to sports. In fact, it's not just privileged high-school students: we all tend to view ourselves as above average.

Such inflated self-judgments have been found in study after study, and it's often exactly when we're least competent at a given task that we rate our performance most generously. In a 2006 study published in the journal Medical Education, for example, medical students who scored the lowest on an essay test were the most charitable in their self-evaluations, while high-scoring students judged themselves much more strictly. Poor students, the authors note, "lack insight" into their own inadequacy. Why should this be? Another study, led by Cornell University psychologist David Dunning, offers an enlightening explanation. People who are incompetent, he writes with coauthor Justin Kruger, suffer from a "dual burden": they're not good at what they do, and their very incapability prevents them from recognizing how bad they are.

In Dunning and Kruger's study, subjects scoring at the bottom of the heap on tests of logic, grammar and humor "extremely overestimated" their talents. What these individuals lacked (in addition to clear logic, proper grammar and a sense of humor) was "metacognitive skill": the capacity to monitor how well they're performing. In the absence of that capacity, the subjects arrived at an overly hopeful view of their own abilities. There's a paradox here, the authors note: "The skills that lead to competence in a particular domain are often the very same skills necessary to evaluate competence in that domain." In other words, to get better at judging how well we're doing at an activity, we have to get better at the activity itself.

There are a couple of ways out of this double bind. First, we can learn to make honest comparisons with others. Train yourself to recognize excellence, even when you yourself don't possess it, and compare what you can do against what truly excellent individuals are able to accomplish. Second, seek out feedback that is frequent, accurate and specific. Find a critic who will tell you not only how poorly you're doing, but just what it is that you're doing wrong. As Dunning and Kruger note, success indicates to us that everything went right, but failure is more ambiguous: any number of things could have gone wrong. Use this external feedback to figure out exactly where and when you screwed up.

If we adopt these strategies — and most importantly, teach them to our children — they won't need parents, or a commencement (毕业典礼) speaker, to tell them that they're special. They'll already know that they are, or have a plan to get that way.