Certainly no creature in the sea is odder than the common sea cucumber. All living creature, especially human beings, have their peculiarities, but everything about the little sea cucumber seems unusual. What else can be said about a bizarre animal that, among other eccentricities, eats mud, feeds almost continuously day and night but can live without eating for long periods, and can be poisonous but is considered supremely edible by gourmets
For some fifty million years, despite all its eccentricities, the sea cucumber has subsisted on its diet of mud. It is adaptable enough to live attached to rocks by its tube feet, under rocks in shallow water, or on the surface of mud fiats. Common in cool water on both Atlantic and Pacific shores, it has the ability to suck up mud or sand and digest whatever nutrients are present.
Sea cucumbers come in a variety of colors, ranging from black to reddish-brown to sand-color and nearly white. One form even has vivid purple tentacles. Usually the creatures are cucumber-shaped -- hence their name-and because they are typically rock inhabitants, this shape, combined with flexibility, enables them to squeeze into crevices where they are safe from predators and ocean currents. What can be inferred about the defence mechanisms of the sea cucumber
A. They are very sensitive to surrounding stimuli. B. They are almost useless.
C. They require group cooperation. D. They are similar to those of most sea creatures.

As I sit at my desk and observe the frenzied play of these children who are working so hard at being children, I see a small boy to my right. What catches my eye is that he is standing in the area of the soccer goal, by himself, looking down at his shoes. He picks at his navy blue sweat jacket, pulling the string ties back and forth through the casing. He stubs his Nike’d tennis shoe in the dirt, again, and again, and again. I see his lips move--he seems to be talking to himself, all alone, oblivious to the world around him. There are children at play in the background, plenty to team up with, yet he stands idle, off to himself.
Watching him, I begin to fantasize about his melancholy. Is he an only child of working parents who are so busy with their own lives they don’t have time for him Or is he one of several children, caught in the stampede of family life, getting trampled on by the older children as they pass him up, and pulled down by the younger siblings as they compete with him. Is he loved or abused Smart or slow to learn What does he think about when he’s by himself What are his dreams His fears Is he a new child, too shy to make friends Or is he a victim of the cruelties of child’s play
Days of my own childhood come flooding back to me. Remembering the days when I felt as he must be feeling now, so alone. As an adult, I can still feel that sometime hollowness. I understand these feelings even less than I did when I was his age. I ache for this small child that bas so much to learn and experience, as much potential for pain in his future as happiness. I want to reach out to him, wrap my arms around him and tell him that it’s ok, he’s not alone, that I care, as will so many others in his life to come. I want to assure him that it’s alright to feel the way he does, but that it gets better and he must look to the good things, to learn from his experiences. I want to give him all the answers to all the questions that no one ever gets until they don’t need to know anymore.
I find myself rising from behind my desk, mesmerized by the little form before me. I walk towards the window, my eyes not budging front their goal. He’s still plowing the earth with the toe of his shoe, talking away to whatever has a moment to listen. My eyes fill with tears--I can’t bear this pain any more. I reach out for the window frame, leaning into it in weariness of a life hard fought, knowing of the battle he has yet to face...

A. They are very sensitive to surrounding stimuli.
B. They are almost useless.
C. They require group cooperation.
D. They are similar to those of most sea creatures.