Reading to Cite Textual Evidence - MAP 7th Grade Reading

Adapted from Little Women by Louisa M. Alcott (1880)

Margaret, the eldest of the four, was sixteen, and very pretty, being plump and fair, with large eyes, plenty of soft, brown hair, a sweet mouth, and white hands, of which she was rather vain. Fifteen-year-old Jo was very tall, thin, and brown, and reminded one of a colt; for she never seemed to know what to do with her long limbs, which were very much in her way. She had a decided mouth, a comical nose, and sharp, gray eyes, which appeared to see everything, and were by turns fierce, funny, or thoughtful. Her long, thick hair was her one beauty; but it was usually bundled into a net, to be out of her way. Round shoulders had Jo, big hands and feet, a fly-away look to her clothes, and the uncomfortable appearance of a girl who was rapidly shooting up into a woman, and didn't like it. Elizabeth—or Beth, as every one called her—was a rosy, smooth-haired, bright-eyed girl of thirteen, with a shy manner, a timid voice, and a peaceful expression, which was seldom disturbed. Her father called her "Little Tranquillity," and the name suited her excellently; for she seemed to live in a happy world of her own, only venturing out to meet the few whom she trusted and loved. Amy, though the youngest, was a most important person,—in her own opinion at least. A regular snow-maiden, with blue eyes, and yellow hair, curling on her shoulders, pale and slender, and always carrying herself like a young lady mindful of her manners. What the characters of the four sisters were we will leave to be found out.

The clock struck six; and, having swept up the hearth, Beth put a pair of slippers down to warm. Somehow the sight of the old shoes had a good effect upon the girls; for mother was coming, and every one brightened to welcome her. Meg stopped lecturing, and lighted the lamp, Amy got out of the easy-chair without being asked, and Jo forgot how tired she was as she sat up to hold the slippers nearer to the blaze.

"They are quite worn out; Marmee must have a new pair."

"I thought I'd get her some with my dollar," said Beth.

"No, I shall!" cried Amy.

"I'm the oldest," began Meg, but Jo cut in with a decided—

"I'm the man of the family now papa is away, and I shall provide the slippers, for he told me to take special care of mother while he was gone."

"I'll tell you what we'll do," said Beth; "let's each get her something for Christmas, and not get anything for ourselves."

"That's like you, dear! What will we get?" exclaimed Jo.

Every one thought soberly for a minute; then Meg announced, as if the idea was suggested by the sight of her own pretty hands, "I shall give her a nice pair of gloves."

"Army shoes, best to be had," cried Jo.

"Some handkerchiefs, all hemmed," said Beth.

"I'll get a little bottle of cologne; she likes it, and it won't cost much, so I'll have some left to buy my pencils," added Amy.

Why did Jo think she should buy their mother a Christmas gift?

Adapted from Little Women by Louisa M. Alcott (1880)

Margaret, the eldest of the four, was sixteen, and very pretty, being plump and fair, with large eyes, plenty of soft, brown hair, a sweet mouth, and white hands, of which she was rather vain. Fifteen-year-old Jo was very tall, thin, and brown, and reminded one of a colt; for she never seemed to know what to do with her long limbs, which were very much in her way. She had a decided mouth, a comical nose, and sharp, gray eyes, which appeared to see everything, and were by turns fierce, funny, or thoughtful. Her long, thick hair was her one beauty; but it was usually bundled into a net, to be out of her way. Round shoulders had Jo, big hands and feet, a fly-away look to her clothes, and the uncomfortable appearance of a girl who was rapidly shooting up into a woman, and didn't like it. Elizabeth—or Beth, as every one called her—was a rosy, smooth-haired, bright-eyed girl of thirteen, with a shy manner, a timid voice, and a peaceful expression, which was seldom disturbed. Her father called her "Little Tranquillity," and the name suited her excellently; for she seemed to live in a happy world of her own, only venturing out to meet the few whom she trusted and loved. Amy, though the youngest, was a most important person,—in her own opinion at least. A regular snow-maiden, with blue eyes, and yellow hair, curling on her shoulders, pale and slender, and always carrying herself like a young lady mindful of her manners. What the characters of the four sisters were we will leave to be found out.

The clock struck six; and, having swept up the hearth, Beth put a pair of slippers down to warm. Somehow the sight of the old shoes had a good effect upon the girls; for mother was coming, and every one brightened to welcome her. Meg stopped lecturing, and lighted the lamp, Amy got out of the easy-chair without being asked, and Jo forgot how tired she was as she sat up to hold the slippers nearer to the blaze.

"They are quite worn out; Marmee must have a new pair."

"I thought I'd get her some with my dollar," said Beth.

"No, I shall!" cried Amy.

"I'm the oldest," began Meg, but Jo cut in with a decided—

"I'm the man of the family now papa is away, and I shall provide the slippers, for he told me to take special care of mother while he was gone."

"I'll tell you what we'll do," said Beth; "let's each get her something for Christmas, and not get anything for ourselves."

"That's like you, dear! What will we get?" exclaimed Jo.

Every one thought soberly for a minute; then Meg announced, as if the idea was suggested by the sight of her own pretty hands, "I shall give her a nice pair of gloves."

"Army shoes, best to be had," cried Jo.

"Some handkerchiefs, all hemmed," said Beth.

"I'll get a little bottle of cologne; she likes it, and it won't cost much, so I'll have some left to buy my pencils," added Amy.

Which sister was the oldest?

Adapted from Little Women by Louisa M. Alcott (1880)

Margaret, the eldest of the four, was sixteen, and very pretty, being plump and fair, with large eyes, plenty of soft, brown hair, a sweet mouth, and white hands, of which she was rather vain. Fifteen-year-old Jo was very tall, thin, and brown, and reminded one of a colt; for she never seemed to know what to do with her long limbs, which were very much in her way. She had a decided mouth, a comical nose, and sharp, gray eyes, which appeared to see everything, and were by turns fierce, funny, or thoughtful. Her long, thick hair was her one beauty; but it was usually bundled into a net, to be out of her way. Round shoulders had Jo, big hands and feet, a fly-away look to her clothes, and the uncomfortable appearance of a girl who was rapidly shooting up into a woman, and didn't like it. Elizabeth—or Beth, as every one called her—was a rosy, smooth-haired, bright-eyed girl of thirteen, with a shy manner, a timid voice, and a peaceful expression, which was seldom disturbed. Her father called her "Little Tranquillity," and the name suited her excellently; for she seemed to live in a happy world of her own, only venturing out to meet the few whom she trusted and loved. Amy, though the youngest, was a most important person,—in her own opinion at least. A regular snow-maiden, with blue eyes, and yellow hair, curling on her shoulders, pale and slender, and always carrying herself like a young lady mindful of her manners. What the characters of the four sisters were we will leave to be found out.

The clock struck six; and, having swept up the hearth, Beth put a pair of slippers down to warm. Somehow the sight of the old shoes had a good effect upon the girls; for mother was coming, and every one brightened to welcome her. Meg stopped lecturing, and lighted the lamp, Amy got out of the easy-chair without being asked, and Jo forgot how tired she was as she sat up to hold the slippers nearer to the blaze.

"They are quite worn out; Marmee must have a new pair."

"I thought I'd get her some with my dollar," said Beth.

"No, I shall!" cried Amy.

"I'm the oldest," began Meg, but Jo cut in with a decided—

"I'm the man of the family now papa is away, and I shall provide the slippers, for he told me to take special care of mother while he was gone."

"I'll tell you what we'll do," said Beth; "let's each get her something for Christmas, and not get anything for ourselves."

"That's like you, dear! What will we get?" exclaimed Jo.

Every one thought soberly for a minute; then Meg announced, as if the idea was suggested by the sight of her own pretty hands, "I shall give her a nice pair of gloves."

"Army shoes, best to be had," cried Jo.

"Some handkerchiefs, all hemmed," said Beth.

"I'll get a little bottle of cologne; she likes it, and it won't cost much, so I'll have some left to buy my pencils," added Amy.

Which sister plans to buy her mother handkerchiefs for Christmas?

Adapted from Little Women by Louisa M. Alcott (1880)

Margaret, the eldest of the four, was sixteen, and very pretty, being plump and fair, with large eyes, plenty of soft, brown hair, a sweet mouth, and white hands, of which she was rather vain. Fifteen-year-old Jo was very tall, thin, and brown, and reminded one of a colt; for she never seemed to know what to do with her long limbs, which were very much in her way. She had a decided mouth, a comical nose, and sharp, gray eyes, which appeared to see everything, and were by turns fierce, funny, or thoughtful. Her long, thick hair was her one beauty; but it was usually bundled into a net, to be out of her way. Round shoulders had Jo, big hands and feet, a fly-away look to her clothes, and the uncomfortable appearance of a girl who was rapidly shooting up into a woman, and didn't like it. Elizabeth—or Beth, as every one called her—was a rosy, smooth-haired, bright-eyed girl of thirteen, with a shy manner, a timid voice, and a peaceful expression, which was seldom disturbed. Her father called her "Little Tranquillity," and the name suited her excellently; for she seemed to live in a happy world of her own, only venturing out to meet the few whom she trusted and loved. Amy, though the youngest, was a most important person,—in her own opinion at least. A regular snow-maiden, with blue eyes, and yellow hair, curling on her shoulders, pale and slender, and always carrying herself like a young lady mindful of her manners. What the characters of the four sisters were we will leave to be found out.

The clock struck six; and, having swept up the hearth, Beth put a pair of slippers down to warm. Somehow the sight of the old shoes had a good effect upon the girls; for mother was coming, and every one brightened to welcome her. Meg stopped lecturing, and lighted the lamp, Amy got out of the easy-chair without being asked, and Jo forgot how tired she was as she sat up to hold the slippers nearer to the blaze.

"They are quite worn out; Marmee must have a new pair."

"I thought I'd get her some with my dollar," said Beth.

"No, I shall!" cried Amy.

"I'm the oldest," began Meg, but Jo cut in with a decided—

"I'm the man of the family now papa is away, and I shall provide the slippers, for he told me to take special care of mother while he was gone."

"I'll tell you what we'll do," said Beth; "let's each get her something for Christmas, and not get anything for ourselves."

"That's like you, dear! What will we get?" exclaimed Jo.

Every one thought soberly for a minute; then Meg announced, as if the idea was suggested by the sight of her own pretty hands, "I shall give her a nice pair of gloves."

"Army shoes, best to be had," cried Jo.

"Some handkerchiefs, all hemmed," said Beth.

"I'll get a little bottle of cologne; she likes it, and it won't cost much, so I'll have some left to buy my pencils," added Amy.

According to the passage, who is the "man of the house"?

Adapted from White Fang by Jack London (1906)

Dark spruce forest frowned on either side the frozen waterway. The trees had been stripped by a recent wind of their white covering of frost, and they seemed to lean toward each other, black and ominous, in the fading light. A vast silence reigned over the land. The land itself was a desolation, lifeless, without movement, so lone and cold that the spirit of it was not even that of sadness. There was a hint in it of laughter, but of a laughter more terrible than any sadness -- a laughter that was mirthless as the smile of the Sphinx, a laughter cold as the frost and partaking of the grimness of infallibility. It was the masterful and incommunicable wisdom of eternity laughing at the futility of life and the effort of life. It was the Wild, the savage, frozen-hearted Northland Wild.

But there was life, abroad in the land and defiant. Down the frozen waterway toiled a string of wolfish dogs. Their bristly fur was rimed with frost. Their breath froze in the air as it left their mouths, spouting forth in spumes of vapor that settled upon the hair of their bodies and formed into crystals of frost. Leather harness was on the dogs, and leather traces attached them to a sled which dragged along behind. On the sled, securely lashed, was a long and narrow oblong box. There were other things on the sled -- blankets, an axe, and a coffee-pot and frying-pan; but prominent, occupying most of the space, was the long and narrow oblong box.

In advance of the dogs, on wide snowshoes, toiled a man. At the rear of the sled toiled a second man. On the sled, in the box, lay a third man whose toil was over, -- a man whom the Wild had conquered and beaten down until he would never move nor struggle again.

But at front and rear, unawed and indomitable, toiled the two men who were not yet dead. Their bodies were covered with fur and soft-tanned leather. Eyelashes and cheeks and lips were so coated with the crystals from their frozen breath that their faces were not discernible. This gave them the seeming of ghostly masques, undertakers in a spectral world at the funeral of some ghost. But under it all they were men, penetrating the land of desolation and mockery and silence, puny adventurers bent on colossal adventure, pitting themselves against the might of a world as remote and alien and pulseless as the abysses of space.

They travelled on without speech, saving their breath for the work of their bodies. On every side was the silence, pressing upon them with a tangible presence.

The pale light of the short sunless day was beginning to fade, when a faint far cry arose on the still air. It soared upward with a swift rush, till it reached its topmost note, where it persisted, palpitant and tense, and then slowly died away. It might have been a lost soul wailing, had it not been invested with a certain sad fierceness and hungry eagerness.

A second cry arose, piercing the silence with needlelike shrillness. Both men located the sound. It was to the rear, somewhere in the snow expanse they had just traversed. A third and answering cry arose, also to the rear and to the left of the second cry.

"They're after us, Bill," said the man at the front.

"Meat is scarce," answered his comrade. "I ain't seen a rabbit sign for days.”

At the fall of darkness they swung the dogs into a cluster of spruce trees on the edge of the waterway and made a camp. The coffin, at the side of the fire, served for seat and table. The wolf-dogs, clustered on the far side of the fire, snarled and bickered among themselves, but evinced no inclination to stray off into the darkness.

- - -

"Henry," said Bill, munching with deliberation the beans he was eating, "How many dogs 've we got, Henry?"

"Six."

"Well, Henry . . ." Bill stopped for a moment, in order that his words might gain greater significance. "As I was sayin', Henry, we've got six dogs. I took six fish out of the bag. I gave one fish to each dog, an', Henry, I was one fish short."

"You counted wrong."

"We've got six dogs," the other reiterated dispassionately. "took out six fish. One Ear didn't get no fish. I come back to the bag afterward an' got 'm his fish."

"We've only got six dogs," Henry said.

"Henry," Bill went on, "I won't say they was all dogs, but there was seven of 'm that got fish."

Henry stopped eating to glance across the fire and count the dogs.

"There's only six now," he said.

"I saw the other one run off across the snow," Bill announced with cool positiveness. "I saw seven.”

Bill opened his mouth to speak, but changed his mind. Instead, he pointed toward the wall of darkness that pressed about them from every side. There was no suggestion of form in the utter blackness; only could be seen a pair of eyes gleaming like live coals. Henry indicated with his head a second pair, and a third. A circle of the gleaming eyes had drawn about their camp.

Based on several pieces of evidence from the passage, which of the following is true?

Adapted from White Fang by Jack London (1906)

Dark spruce forest frowned on either side the frozen waterway. The trees had been stripped by a recent wind of their white covering of frost, and they seemed to lean toward each other, black and ominous, in the fading light. A vast silence reigned over the land. The land itself was a desolation, lifeless, without movement, so lone and cold that the spirit of it was not even that of sadness. There was a hint in it of laughter, but of a laughter more terrible than any sadness -- a laughter that was mirthless as the smile of the Sphinx, a laughter cold as the frost and partaking of the grimness of infallibility. It was the masterful and incommunicable wisdom of eternity laughing at the futility of life and the effort of life. It was the Wild, the savage, frozen-hearted Northland Wild.

But there was life, abroad in the land and defiant. Down the frozen waterway toiled a string of wolfish dogs. Their bristly fur was rimed with frost. Their breath froze in the air as it left their mouths, spouting forth in spumes of vapor that settled upon the hair of their bodies and formed into crystals of frost. Leather harness was on the dogs, and leather traces attached them to a sled which dragged along behind. On the sled, securely lashed, was a long and narrow oblong box. There were other things on the sled -- blankets, an axe, and a coffee-pot and frying-pan; but prominent, occupying most of the space, was the long and narrow oblong box.

In advance of the dogs, on wide snowshoes, toiled a man. At the rear of the sled toiled a second man. On the sled, in the box, lay a third man whose toil was over, -- a man whom the Wild had conquered and beaten down until he would never move nor struggle again.

But at front and rear, unawed and indomitable, toiled the two men who were not yet dead. Their bodies were covered with fur and soft-tanned leather. Eyelashes and cheeks and lips were so coated with the crystals from their frozen breath that their faces were not discernible. This gave them the seeming of ghostly masques, undertakers in a spectral world at the funeral of some ghost. But under it all they were men, penetrating the land of desolation and mockery and silence, puny adventurers bent on colossal adventure, pitting themselves against the might of a world as remote and alien and pulseless as the abysses of space.

They travelled on without speech, saving their breath for the work of their bodies. On every side was the silence, pressing upon them with a tangible presence.

The pale light of the short sunless day was beginning to fade, when a faint far cry arose on the still air. It soared upward with a swift rush, till it reached its topmost note, where it persisted, palpitant and tense, and then slowly died away. It might have been a lost soul wailing, had it not been invested with a certain sad fierceness and hungry eagerness.

A second cry arose, piercing the silence with needlelike shrillness. Both men located the sound. It was to the rear, somewhere in the snow expanse they had just traversed. A third and answering cry arose, also to the rear and to the left of the second cry.

"They're after us, Bill," said the man at the front.

"Meat is scarce," answered his comrade. "I ain't seen a rabbit sign for days.”

At the fall of darkness they swung the dogs into a cluster of spruce trees on the edge of the waterway and made a camp. The coffin, at the side of the fire, served for seat and table. The wolf-dogs, clustered on the far side of the fire, snarled and bickered among themselves, but evinced no inclination to stray off into the darkness.

- - -

"Henry," said Bill, munching with deliberation the beans he was eating, "How many dogs 've we got, Henry?"

"Six."

"Well, Henry . . ." Bill stopped for a moment, in order that his words might gain greater significance. "As I was sayin', Henry, we've got six dogs. I took six fish out of the bag. I gave one fish to each dog, an', Henry, I was one fish short."

"You counted wrong."

"We've got six dogs," the other reiterated dispassionately. "took out six fish. One Ear didn't get no fish. I come back to the bag afterward an' got 'm his fish."

"We've only got six dogs," Henry said.

"Henry," Bill went on, "I won't say they was all dogs, but there was seven of 'm that got fish."

Henry stopped eating to glance across the fire and count the dogs.

"There's only six now," he said.

"I saw the other one run off across the snow," Bill announced with cool positiveness. "I saw seven.”

Bill opened his mouth to speak, but changed his mind. Instead, he pointed toward the wall of darkness that pressed about them from every side. There was no suggestion of form in the utter blackness; only could be seen a pair of eyes gleaming like live coals. Henry indicated with his head a second pair, and a third. A circle of the gleaming eyes had drawn about their camp.

Which of the following is NOT a piece of evidence that directly supports the claim that the “seventh dog” in the passage is actually a wolf?

“Stone Trees”

Have you ever seen a stone tree? While the idea of a stone tree may sound fantastic, fallen trees can turn to stone in very specific circumstances, producing what scientists call “petrified wood.” “Petra” means stone in ancient Greek, so something “petrified” has been turned to stone. You may have heard the word “petrified” used to describe someone so scared that they have frozen as if turned to stone, but scientists use the word literally to refer to actual stone. Petrified trees are stone trees, not scared trees!

A Type of Fossil

Like ancient skeletons of dinosaurs and other organisms preserved in the earth, petrified wood is a type of fossil; however, there is a big difference between petrified wood and most fossils. Most fossils are imprints of creatures or partial remains of them, such as their skeletons. In contrast, the process of petrification recreates an entire preserved tree in stone. It’s very cool to see a petrified tree close-up, because it is still precisely life-size; you can get an idea of how big the tree was when it was alive, and even see individual tree cells that have been preserved. You can even count the tree rings in some petrified trees and estimate how old the tree grew to be before it was petrified.

From Tree to Stone

In order for a tree to become petrified wood, it must have died and been buried a very long time ago. This has to have happened in a specific environment, though, or petrified wood would not be so rare. The tree has to be buried in such a way that oxygen cannot get to its bark and wood. If oxygen can get to the tree, it will rot instead of turn to stone.

The environment has to have two more specific characteristics to produce petrified wood: there has to be water in the ground around the tree, and that water has to contain minerals. If mineral-containing water is present, water will go into and out of the tree’s cells and, over time, the minerals in the water will accumulate in the tree’s cells. When the tree’s cells eventually decay, the minerals are left. Petrified wood can be a rainbow of different colors, with each color corresponding to different elements in the tree’s preserving environment that affect the color of the minerals that form its stone.

Petrified wood is found all over the world, and there are even entire forests of petrified trees that you can travel to go see today. One national park in the United States, Petrified Forest National Park in Arizona, is famous for its many petrified trees. The next time you see a tree, remember, after a few million years in the right environment, it could turn to stone!

“Most fossils are imprints of creatures or partial remains of them, such as their skeletons.”

“The tree has to be buried in such a way that oxygen cannot get to its bark and wood. If oxygen can get to the tree, it will rot instead of turn to stone.”

Which of the following inferences is supported by the above sentences taken from the text?

Passage 1:

The penny has long outlived its usefulness in the monetary system and should be removed from use. Pennies cost more to produce than the value they represent. In fact, it costs taxpayers nearly two cents to produce and distribute every one cent penny.

Additionally, the penny does not represent the real level of purchasing power. Go to the corner store today and ask for the “penny candy,” and you might be routed to a row of treats, but you’re unlikely to find anything for purchase for under a quarter.

On top of the cost and lack of benefit, pennies are also heavy for their value, so much so that many don’t even care to keep the pennies they receive in change. 11% of people report that they would rather throw a penny away than carry it around with them, and over $62 million dollars in coins are thrown out annually - most of them pennies.

Whether it’s at the grocery register or at the bank, everyone who handles pennies agrees that they are excessively time-consuming to process. Even most charities would rather do without the pennies they receive! It’s time we let go of this costly antiquity and get rid of the penny once and for all!

Passage 2:

The penny is a sacred historic symbol in America and should be respected for its historical value. Over half of Americans are in favor of keeping the penny, and many fear the trend that eliminating low-value currency sets. “Rounding tax,” or the inclination for businesses to round prices up to the nearest unit of change available, could have an impact on consumers, and as inflation continues, the nickel, the dime, and even the quarter could follow!

Not only does the penny help keep costs low, but it would also be costly to take out of commission effectively. The penny is also a powerful historical tribute to Abraham Lincoln, who has appeared on the penny’s face since 1909.

The penny represents far more than its one-cent value and eliminating it would take a toll on the history it represents and the majority of citizens who seek to keep it in commission.

According to Passage 1, how much does it cost taxpayers to produce each penny?

Passage 1:

The penny has long outlived its usefulness in the monetary system and should be removed from use. Pennies cost more to produce than the value they represent. In fact, it costs taxpayers nearly two cents to produce and distribute every one cent penny.

Additionally, the penny does not represent the real level of purchasing power. Go to the corner store today and ask for the “penny candy,” and you might be routed to a row of treats, but you’re unlikely to find anything for purchase for under a quarter.

On top of the cost and lack of benefit, pennies are also heavy for their value, so much so that many don’t even care to keep the pennies they receive in change. 11% of people report that they would rather throw a penny away than carry it around with them, and over $62 million dollars in coins are thrown out annually - most of them pennies.

Whether it’s at the grocery register or at the bank, everyone who handles pennies agrees that they are excessively time-consuming to process. Even most charities would rather do without the pennies they receive! It’s time we let go of this costly antiquity and get rid of the penny once and for all!

Passage 2:

The penny is a sacred historic symbol in America and should be respected for its historical value. Over half of Americans are in favor of keeping the penny, and many fear the trend that eliminating low-value currency sets. “Rounding tax,” or the inclination for businesses to round prices up to the nearest unit of change available, could have an impact on consumers, and as inflation continues, the nickel, the dime, and even the quarter could follow!

Not only does the penny help keep costs low, but it would also be costly to take out of commission effectively. The penny is also a powerful historical tribute to Abraham Lincoln, who has appeared on the penny’s face since 1909.

The penny represents far more than its one-cent value and eliminating it would take a toll on the history it represents and the majority of citizens who seek to keep it in commission.

According to Passage 1, you are unlikely to find any candy for less than ____________.

Passage 1:

The penny has long outlived its usefulness in the monetary system and should be removed from use. Pennies cost more to produce than the value they represent. In fact, it costs taxpayers nearly two cents to produce and distribute every one cent penny.

Additionally, the penny does not represent the real level of purchasing power. Go to the corner store today and ask for the “penny candy,” and you might be routed to a row of treats, but you’re unlikely to find anything for purchase for under a quarter.

On top of the cost and lack of benefit, pennies are also heavy for their value, so much so that many don’t even care to keep the pennies they receive in change. 11% of people report that they would rather throw a penny away than carry it around with them, and over $62 million dollars in coins are thrown out annually - most of them pennies.

Whether it’s at the grocery register or at the bank, everyone who handles pennies agrees that they are excessively time-consuming to process. Even most charities would rather do without the pennies they receive! It’s time we let go of this costly antiquity and get rid of the penny once and for all!

Passage 2:

The penny is a sacred historic symbol in America and should be respected for its historical value. Over half of Americans are in favor of keeping the penny, and many fear the trend that eliminating low-value currency sets. “Rounding tax,” or the inclination for businesses to round prices up to the nearest unit of change available, could have an impact on consumers, and as inflation continues, the nickel, the dime, and even the quarter could follow!

Not only does the penny help keep costs low, but it would also be costly to take out of commission effectively. The penny is also a powerful historical tribute to Abraham Lincoln, who has appeared on the penny’s face since 1909.

The penny represents far more than its one-cent value and eliminating it would take a toll on the history it represents and the majority of citizens who seek to keep it in commission.

According to Passage 2, Abraham Lincoln has been on the penny since ____________.

Passage 1:

The penny has long outlived its usefulness in the monetary system and should be removed from use. Pennies cost more to produce than the value they represent. In fact, it costs taxpayers nearly two cents to produce and distribute every one cent penny.

Additionally, the penny does not represent the real level of purchasing power. Go to the corner store today and ask for the “penny candy,” and you might be routed to a row of treats, but you’re unlikely to find anything for purchase for under a quarter.

On top of the cost and lack of benefit, pennies are also heavy for their value, so much so that many don’t even care to keep the pennies they receive in change. 11% of people report that they would rather throw a penny away than carry it around with them, and over $62 million dollars in coins are thrown out annually - most of them pennies.

Whether it’s at the grocery register or at the bank, everyone who handles pennies agrees that they are excessively time-consuming to process. Even most charities would rather do without the pennies they receive! It’s time we let go of this costly antiquity and get rid of the penny once and for all!

Passage 2:

The penny is a sacred historic symbol in America and should be respected for its historical value. Over half of Americans are in favor of keeping the penny, and many fear the trend that eliminating low-value currency sets. “Rounding tax,” or the inclination for businesses to round prices up to the nearest unit of change available, could have an impact on consumers, and as inflation continues, the nickel, the dime, and even the quarter could follow!

Not only does the penny help keep costs low, but it would also be costly to take out of commission effectively. The penny is also a powerful historical tribute to Abraham Lincoln, who has appeared on the penny’s face since 1909.

The penny represents far more than its one-cent value and eliminating it would take a toll on the history it represents and the majority of citizens who seek to keep it in commission.

Which of the following is not an element used to support the primary purpose of Passage 2?

You likely hear the name “Napoleon Bonaparte” and immediately think of the short in stature and short in temper French emperor. But have you heard about his most embarrassing surrender? No, not Waterloo! Not Laon or the battle of La Rothiere either! Napoleon's most laughable defeat came well before his loss at Waterloo, in the summer of 1807.

Despite Napoleon's great renown as a brilliant military leader, he once retreated frantically from an army of ….bunnies! You heard that right! Shortly after Napoleon’s Treaties of Tilsit was penned, the emperor planned to celebrate with his fellow military men the best way he knew how - a hunt! Napoleon ordered the chief of staff, Alexandre Berthier, to organize an extravagant rabbit hunt for Napoleon and his men.

Not to be outdone, Berthier collected what was estimated to be between hundreds and thousands of rabbits for the hunt. However, while Berthier assumed that, like wild rabbits, these village-raised rabbits would scurry at the sight of Napoleon and his men, exactly the opposite was true. When the day came and the hunting party was ready for the chase, the bunnies were released. But instead of running for the woods, the swarm of rabbits came straight for Napoleon and his men. Though the men initially attempted to fight back, they were overwhelmed by the hoard and fled to their coaches on a panicked retreat. It was not until the coaches sped away, rabbits still hopping aboard even as they attempted to retreat, that Napoleon was able to escape the furry army.

Embarrassed in front of the military peers and subordinates who once respected him, Napoleon fled home from a battle he never anticipated, and one he would never fully recover from the battle of the bunnies.

According to the passage, who was ordered to organize the rabbit hunt?

You likely hear the name “Napoleon Bonaparte” and immediately think of the short in stature and short in temper French emperor. But have you heard about his most embarrassing surrender? No, not Waterloo! Not Laon or the battle of La Rothiere either! Napoleon's most laughable defeat came well before his loss at Waterloo, in the summer of 1807.

Despite Napoleon's great renown as a brilliant military leader, he once retreated frantically from an army of ….bunnies! You heard that right! Shortly after Napoleon’s Treaties of Tilsit was penned, the emperor planned to celebrate with his fellow military men the best way he knew how - a hunt! Napoleon ordered the chief of staff, Alexandre Berthier, to organize an extravagant rabbit hunt for Napoleon and his men.

Not to be outdone, Berthier collected what was estimated to be between hundreds and thousands of rabbits for the hunt. However, while Berthier assumed that, like wild rabbits, these village-raised rabbits would scurry at the sight of Napoleon and his men, exactly the opposite was true. When the day came and the hunting party was ready for the chase, the bunnies were released. But instead of running for the woods, the swarm of rabbits came straight for Napoleon and his men. Though the men initially attempted to fight back, they were overwhelmed by the hoard and fled to their coaches on a panicked retreat. It was not until the coaches sped away, rabbits still hopping aboard even as they attempted to retreat, that Napoleon was able to escape the furry army.

Embarrassed in front of the military peers and subordinates who once respected him, Napoleon fled home from a battle he never anticipated, and one he would never fully recover from the battle of the bunnies.

According to the passage, the rabbit hunt occurred shortly after the signing of which agreements?

Every day it seems, new inventions surface that promise to add value to our day-to-day lives. But did you know, many of the inventions we interact with on a daily basis were developed completely by accident?

Take the microwave, for instance. This accidental invention was developed by engineer Percy Spencer who, upon experimenting with a microwave-emitting magnetron, found that the candy bar in his pocket had begun to melt. Spencer was then able to harness this radiation into the microwave we use today to make snack time a speedy process!

Perhaps one of the most well-known accidental inventions of today, the potato chip was born when a customer kept requesting that his french fries be sliced thinner and made crispier. Though chef George Crum responded with the chips as a joke, they quickly became a favorite snack around the world!

Even the match is a result of accidental invention. When pharmacist John Walker was stirring chemicals, he noticed that the end of his stirring stick had dried into a hardened lump. When attempting to scrape the dried residue off, a flame sparked, and so did Walker’s idea to turn this accident into a helpful tool!

So, the next time your science experiment doesn’t go as planned, or you burn what you have cooked on the stove, keep in mind that some of today’s most valued inventions were discovered when the inventor least expected it!

According to the passage, who invented the potato chip?

Every day it seems, new inventions surface that promise to add value to our day-to-day lives. But did you know, many of the inventions we interact with on a daily basis were developed completely by accident?

Take the microwave, for instance. This accidental invention was developed by engineer Percy Spencer who, upon experimenting with a microwave-emitting magnetron, found that the candy bar in his pocket had begun to melt. Spencer was then able to harness this radiation into the microwave we use today to make snack time a speedy process!

Perhaps one of the most well-known accidental inventions of today, the potato chip was born when a customer kept requesting that his french fries be sliced thinner and made crispier. Though chef George Crum responded with the chips as a joke, they quickly became a favorite snack around the world!

Even the match is a result of accidental invention. When pharmacist John Walker was stirring chemicals, he noticed that the end of his stirring stick had dried into a hardened lump. When attempting to scrape the dried residue off, a flame sparked, and so did Walker’s idea to turn this accident into a helpful tool!

So, the next time your science experiment doesn’t go as planned, or you burn what you have cooked on the stove, keep in mind that some of today’s most valued inventions were discovered when the inventor least expected it!

According to the passage, what was John Walker doing when a flame sparked and helped him to create the match?

Passage 1:

Graffiti - the public drawings and paintings that often cover surfaces of walls and other public structures - are often written off as an act of vandalism. However, the time has finally come when we begin to recognize graffiti for the art form it truly is.

Artists such as Banksy have shown us that graffiti can be a way to showcase not only one’s talent in the visual arts but also one’s political and social causes and stances. Some cities have even come to embrace graffiti to such an extent that they have commissioned works of art from these artists on the facades of public buildings.

Although graffiti began as an act of anarchy and rebellion, its contributions to society and the communities impacted by the art have seen positive responses that far outweigh the negatives. Graffiti is no longer a costly nuisance that should be immediately covered or removed, it has instead flourished to become an entirely new and unique art form with talent and renown that will eventually come to match the household names “Picasso” and “Michaelangelo” in stature.

Passage 2:

Though some might idolize graffiti as an act of admirable rebellion, this “art” causes nothing but negative impacts on its community. Those who would vandalize their streets and neighborhoods are no friend to the community. Instead, these criminals deface properties, decrease home values, and leave the community looking less pristine and cared for.

Such vandals also disregard the work put in by maintenance workers cleaning up after their messes and government officials attempting to create a better community for their citizens. While the work created by graffiti “artists” can sometimes be visually impressive, this does not outweigh the fact that what they have created is not art, but a crime against the community.

Popular graffiti “artists” auctioning work off for thousands of dollars apiece only perpetuate this trend. It is high time we put a stop to these criminal activities rather than glorifying them and allow true artists who follow city policies and stick to canvas or sculpture their due respect.

According to Passage 1, graffiti is often written off as what kind of an act?

Passage 1:

Graffiti - the public drawings and paintings that often cover surfaces of walls and other public structures - are often written off as an act of vandalism. However, the time has finally come when we begin to recognize graffiti for the art form it truly is.

Artists such as Banksy have shown us that graffiti can be a way to showcase not only one’s talent in the visual arts but also one’s political and social causes and stances. Some cities have even come to embrace graffiti to such an extent that they have commissioned works of art from these artists on the facades of public buildings.

Although graffiti began as an act of anarchy and rebellion, its contributions to society and the communities impacted by the art have seen positive responses that far outweigh the negatives. Graffiti is no longer a costly nuisance that should be immediately covered or removed, it has instead flourished to become an entirely new and unique art form with talent and renown that will eventually come to match the household names “Picasso” and “Michaelangelo” in stature.

Passage 2:

Though some might idolize graffiti as an act of admirable rebellion, this “art” causes nothing but negative impacts on its community. Those who would vandalize their streets and neighborhoods are no friend to the community. Instead, these criminals deface properties, decrease home values, and leave the community looking less pristine and cared for.

Such vandals also disregard the work put in by maintenance workers cleaning up after their messes and government officials attempting to create a better community for their citizens. While the work created by graffiti “artists” can sometimes be visually impressive, this does not outweigh the fact that what they have created is not art, but a crime against the community.

Popular graffiti “artists” auctioning work off for thousands of dollars apiece only perpetuate this trend. It is high time we put a stop to these criminal activities rather than glorifying them and allow true artists who follow city policies and stick to canvas or sculpture their due respect.

According to Passage 2, who do graffiti artists disregard the work of?

Adapted from Little Women by Louisa M. Alcott (1880)

Margaret, the eldest of the four, was sixteen, and very pretty, being plump and fair, with large eyes, plenty of soft, brown hair, a sweet mouth, and white hands, of which she was rather vain. Fifteen-year-old Jo was very tall, thin, and brown, and reminded one of a colt; for she never seemed to know what to do with her long limbs, which were very much in her way. She had a decided mouth, a comical nose, and sharp, gray eyes, which appeared to see everything, and were by turns fierce, funny, or thoughtful. Her long, thick hair was her one beauty; but it was usually bundled into a net, to be out of her way. Round shoulders had Jo, big hands and feet, a fly-away look to her clothes, and the uncomfortable appearance of a girl who was rapidly shooting up into a woman, and didn't like it. Elizabeth—or Beth, as every one called her—was a rosy, smooth-haired, bright-eyed girl of thirteen, with a shy manner, a timid voice, and a peaceful expression, which was seldom disturbed. Her father called her "Little Tranquillity," and the name suited her excellently; for she seemed to live in a happy world of her own, only venturing out to meet the few whom she trusted and loved. Amy, though the youngest, was a most important person,—in her own opinion at least. A regular snow-maiden, with blue eyes, and yellow hair, curling on her shoulders, pale and slender, and always carrying herself like a young lady mindful of her manners. What the characters of the four sisters were we will leave to be found out.

The clock struck six; and, having swept up the hearth, Beth put a pair of slippers down to warm. Somehow the sight of the old shoes had a good effect upon the girls; for mother was coming, and every one brightened to welcome her. Meg stopped lecturing, and lighted the lamp, Amy got out of the easy-chair without being asked, and Jo forgot how tired she was as she sat up to hold the slippers nearer to the blaze.

"They are quite worn out; Marmee must have a new pair."

"I thought I'd get her some with my dollar," said Beth.

"No, I shall!" cried Amy.

"I'm the oldest," began Meg, but Jo cut in with a decided—

"I'm the man of the family now papa is away, and I shall provide the slippers, for he told me to take special care of mother while he was gone."

"I'll tell you what we'll do," said Beth; "let's each get her something for Christmas, and not get anything for ourselves."

"That's like you, dear! What will we get?" exclaimed Jo.

Every one thought soberly for a minute; then Meg announced, as if the idea was suggested by the sight of her own pretty hands, "I shall give her a nice pair of gloves."

"Army shoes, best to be had," cried Jo.

"Some handkerchiefs, all hemmed," said Beth.

"I'll get a little bottle of cologne; she likes it, and it won't cost much, so I'll have some left to buy my pencils," added Amy.

Why did Jo think she should buy their mother a Christmas gift?

Adapted from Little Women by Louisa M. Alcott (1880)

Margaret, the eldest of the four, was sixteen, and very pretty, being plump and fair, with large eyes, plenty of soft, brown hair, a sweet mouth, and white hands, of which she was rather vain. Fifteen-year-old Jo was very tall, thin, and brown, and reminded one of a colt; for she never seemed to know what to do with her long limbs, which were very much in her way. She had a decided mouth, a comical nose, and sharp, gray eyes, which appeared to see everything, and were by turns fierce, funny, or thoughtful. Her long, thick hair was her one beauty; but it was usually bundled into a net, to be out of her way. Round shoulders had Jo, big hands and feet, a fly-away look to her clothes, and the uncomfortable appearance of a girl who was rapidly shooting up into a woman, and didn't like it. Elizabeth—or Beth, as every one called her—was a rosy, smooth-haired, bright-eyed girl of thirteen, with a shy manner, a timid voice, and a peaceful expression, which was seldom disturbed. Her father called her "Little Tranquillity," and the name suited her excellently; for she seemed to live in a happy world of her own, only venturing out to meet the few whom she trusted and loved. Amy, though the youngest, was a most important person,—in her own opinion at least. A regular snow-maiden, with blue eyes, and yellow hair, curling on her shoulders, pale and slender, and always carrying herself like a young lady mindful of her manners. What the characters of the four sisters were we will leave to be found out.

The clock struck six; and, having swept up the hearth, Beth put a pair of slippers down to warm. Somehow the sight of the old shoes had a good effect upon the girls; for mother was coming, and every one brightened to welcome her. Meg stopped lecturing, and lighted the lamp, Amy got out of the easy-chair without being asked, and Jo forgot how tired she was as she sat up to hold the slippers nearer to the blaze.

"They are quite worn out; Marmee must have a new pair."

"I thought I'd get her some with my dollar," said Beth.

"No, I shall!" cried Amy.

"I'm the oldest," began Meg, but Jo cut in with a decided—

"I'm the man of the family now papa is away, and I shall provide the slippers, for he told me to take special care of mother while he was gone."

"I'll tell you what we'll do," said Beth; "let's each get her something for Christmas, and not get anything for ourselves."

"That's like you, dear! What will we get?" exclaimed Jo.

Every one thought soberly for a minute; then Meg announced, as if the idea was suggested by the sight of her own pretty hands, "I shall give her a nice pair of gloves."

"Army shoes, best to be had," cried Jo.

"Some handkerchiefs, all hemmed," said Beth.

"I'll get a little bottle of cologne; she likes it, and it won't cost much, so I'll have some left to buy my pencils," added Amy.

Which sister was the oldest?

Adapted from Little Women by Louisa M. Alcott (1880)

Margaret, the eldest of the four, was sixteen, and very pretty, being plump and fair, with large eyes, plenty of soft, brown hair, a sweet mouth, and white hands, of which she was rather vain. Fifteen-year-old Jo was very tall, thin, and brown, and reminded one of a colt; for she never seemed to know what to do with her long limbs, which were very much in her way. She had a decided mouth, a comical nose, and sharp, gray eyes, which appeared to see everything, and were by turns fierce, funny, or thoughtful. Her long, thick hair was her one beauty; but it was usually bundled into a net, to be out of her way. Round shoulders had Jo, big hands and feet, a fly-away look to her clothes, and the uncomfortable appearance of a girl who was rapidly shooting up into a woman, and didn't like it. Elizabeth—or Beth, as every one called her—was a rosy, smooth-haired, bright-eyed girl of thirteen, with a shy manner, a timid voice, and a peaceful expression, which was seldom disturbed. Her father called her "Little Tranquillity," and the name suited her excellently; for she seemed to live in a happy world of her own, only venturing out to meet the few whom she trusted and loved. Amy, though the youngest, was a most important person,—in her own opinion at least. A regular snow-maiden, with blue eyes, and yellow hair, curling on her shoulders, pale and slender, and always carrying herself like a young lady mindful of her manners. What the characters of the four sisters were we will leave to be found out.

The clock struck six; and, having swept up the hearth, Beth put a pair of slippers down to warm. Somehow the sight of the old shoes had a good effect upon the girls; for mother was coming, and every one brightened to welcome her. Meg stopped lecturing, and lighted the lamp, Amy got out of the easy-chair without being asked, and Jo forgot how tired she was as she sat up to hold the slippers nearer to the blaze.

"They are quite worn out; Marmee must have a new pair."

"I thought I'd get her some with my dollar," said Beth.

"No, I shall!" cried Amy.

"I'm the oldest," began Meg, but Jo cut in with a decided—

"I'm the man of the family now papa is away, and I shall provide the slippers, for he told me to take special care of mother while he was gone."

"I'll tell you what we'll do," said Beth; "let's each get her something for Christmas, and not get anything for ourselves."

"That's like you, dear! What will we get?" exclaimed Jo.

Every one thought soberly for a minute; then Meg announced, as if the idea was suggested by the sight of her own pretty hands, "I shall give her a nice pair of gloves."

"Army shoes, best to be had," cried Jo.

"Some handkerchiefs, all hemmed," said Beth.

"I'll get a little bottle of cologne; she likes it, and it won't cost much, so I'll have some left to buy my pencils," added Amy.

Which sister plans to buy her mother handkerchiefs for Christmas?