Bibliographic record
Abstract
It's March of 1979; the Vietnam War ended four years ago. The instability that many Vietnamese are facing, coupled with the tough economic situation, has left my family no choice but to leave and hope to start a new and better life elsewhere. I'm only seventeen years old, and Vietnam is the only home my siblings and I have ever known. We go to school here. We have friends and relatives living nearby. Our parents have built a successful life; my father works as a clerk in a publishing company. That's quite a prestigious job, since many from his generation are illiterate and uneducated. My mother runs her own street vendor business. I am the oldest of five, and while my parents are busy at work, I often take on a mothering role with my siblings, making sure their needs are met. Though we hire outside help to aid with various chores around the home, I still take on the bulk of the responsibility when it comes to ensuring their well being. I don't mind this responsibility and am quite protective of them (my younger sister and our three younger brothers). The thought of having to leave all this familiarity behind is frightening, yet there's a tinge of excitement with not knowing what to expect. We have to find a way to leave the country safely, and it's not possible for us to board planes because we don't have the proper documentation. The only option is to go by boat. Many others are planning the same journey, and my mother makes contact with some people who can get us onto a boat and away from Vietnam. They want ten pieces of gold from each of us. The price is hefty, but my mother pays it, and soon my father and we five kids are on board. My mother can't come with us just yet. She has to stay and care for our grandfather, her father, who is ill. We are heartbroken to leave without her. Not only are we leaving the only home we've ever known, but our mother is not able to join us. She puts on a brave face and tells us that once we start a new successful life, we can sponsor her to leave Vietnam. One day, our family will be reunited. The conditions on the boat are terrible. To maximize profits, the organizers of the trip have crammed upwards of three hundred people on this eighteen-metre-long boat. There is hardly room to walk around, never mind lie down to sleep. The food and water rations are minimal, but we have no choice but to make do. The only comfort we find is with others who are also fleeing the devastating effects of war. I meet Fan, another seventeen-year-old girl with whom I have much in common. We become fast friends, talking about how our life was at home and how we envision it will change in our new homes, wherever they may be. The journey seems to take forever, but we finally land in Indonesia six days later. The Red Cross must have expected a mass exodus from Vietnam because we are put in a refugee camp. My siblings and I are confused. Is this going to be our new home? We learn that this situation is only temporary, until they can find somewhere to place us. Before we realize it, seven months have passed, and we are still living in the camp. Hundreds of other families live here as well. Each country must have sent representatives to Indonesia, because we are interviewed and asked where we would like to settle. The only life we know was in Vietnam. It is hard to imagine life anywhere else, but on a leap of faith, we say Canada, hoping it will turn out to be the peaceful home we are looking for. Soon after, my father and the five of us are on board a plane headed for Canada to make a fresh start. It's October of 1979. We land in New Brunswick and are greeted by the Riley family, one of the many families from the local church who sponsored us to come live in New Brunswick. The husband and wife, Robert and Nora, are warm and inviting. They have two children, Timothy and Elaine, who are close in age to my two youngest siblings. The children regard us with curiosity, as we do them. …
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How this classification was reachedexpand
Full frame distilled prediction
Teacher imitationNot calibrated prevalence, not ground truth. Human validation pending. Learned from the 10,348 direct Codex labels and 10,348 direct Gemma labels. Candidate is the union of thresholded teacher heads; consensus is their intersection. These outputs are machine_predicted_unvalidated and are not human labels or direct frontier model labels.
Codex and Gemma teacher scores by category
| Category | Codex | Gemma |
|---|---|---|
| Metaresearch | 0.000 | 0.001 |
| Meta-epidemiology (narrow) | 0.000 | 0.000 |
| Meta-epidemiology (broad) | 0.000 | 0.000 |
| Bibliometrics | 0.000 | 0.000 |
| Science and technology studies | 0.000 | 0.000 |
| Scholarly communication | 0.000 | 0.000 |
| Open science | 0.000 | 0.000 |
| Research integrity | 0.000 | 0.000 |
| Insufficient payload (model declined to judge) | 0.000 | 0.001 |
Machine scores (provisional)
The two teacher heads of the student model, read on this work. A score orders the frame for review; it never asserts a category, and the validation status ships verbatim with every row.
Baseline scores from an immature model (maturity gate not passed, 7 training rounds). Scores rank; they never assert a category.
score_only:v0-immature-baseline · verbatim from the scoring run: score_only means the number may rank works, and no category label ships from itClassification
machine, unvalidatedMachine predicted; a candidate call from one teacher head, not a consensus.
How this classification was reached, model by model and score by score, is at the end of the page under "How this classification was reached".