Test 1 [Medium Level] – Reading

In 1848, Elizabeth Blackwell became the first woman in the United States to earn a medical degree. Facing ridicule from her peers and skepticism from professors, she persisted through long nights of study. Blackwell later opened a medical college for women, arguing that compassion and intellect could coexist in medicine. Her success challenged the belief that professional fields were reserved for men.

The passage primarily emphasizes Blackwell’s:

The river bent sharply below the bridge, its surface flashing silver under the sun. For years, locals warned travelers not to cross when the fog rolled in, but Liam always ignored them. Today, though, as mist swallowed the far bank, even he hesitated. He could not see the other side, and for the first time, he wondered what might be waiting beyond.

The author uses the river primarily as a symbol of:

When Maria joined the robotics club, she was the only student who had never built a machine before. The first few meetings left her frustrated—her circuits failed, her code froze. But she began staying late after school, testing and retesting each small component. By the end of the semester, her robot won the regional competition.

The passage mainly highlights Maria’s:

The forest path curved beneath a canopy of amber leaves. Every step Jacob took crunched through the remnants of summer. He had walked this trail as a child, when the trees seemed endless and the world simple. Now, with each turn, he felt the strange comfort of things both changing and staying the same.

The passage primarily explores:

During the lunar mission briefing, Commander Hale reminded his crew that exploration was never about conquest, but curiosity. “We go,” he said, “not to claim, but to learn.” As silence settled over the room, each astronaut understood that beyond the calculations and coordinates lay a deeper purpose—the search for understanding itself.

The author portrays exploration as:

When the telegraph first connected distant towns, messages that once took days could travel in minutes. Some feared this speed would erode patience and reflection, while others celebrated a new era of progress. The invention, simple wires stretched across vast lands, changed not only communication but also the rhythm of human thought.

The author suggests that the telegraph’s greatest impact was on:

In the years after the Great Fire, Chicago rebuilt not just its skyline but its spirit. Architects saw opportunity in ashes, crafting structures of steel and glass that reached higher than ever before. To residents, each rising building symbolized resilience—a reminder that destruction could become the foundation for rebirth.

The central idea of the passage is that:

Sofia often wondered how painters captured emotion with mere strokes of color. One afternoon, standing before a Monet landscape, she realized it wasn’t precision that moved her—it was suggestion. The hazy light, the trembling water, invited imagination. Art, she thought, did not demand explanation; it whispered possibilities.

The passage presents art as:

Long before scientists coined the term “biodiversity,” Indigenous communities understood the harmony among living things. They managed forests and rivers with restraint, taking only what they needed. Modern ecologists now study these traditions, realizing that sustainability was practiced centuries before it was defined.

The author’s tone toward Indigenous practices is best described as:

When astronauts view Earth from space, many report a profound sense of unity—the “overview effect.” Borders disappear, and the planet appears fragile, luminous, alive. For some, that vision reshapes their understanding of humanity’s role: not as separate nations, but as caretakers of a shared home.

The main purpose of the passage is to:

In the early 20th century, many Americans viewed flight as a novelty—a spectacle for fairs and exhibitions. Yet the Wright brothers saw it differently. Through patient observation and countless tests, they sought not entertainment but mastery. Their success at Kitty Hawk proved that determination, rather than resources, often drives innovation.

The passage primarily emphasizes:

As glaciers retreat and oceans warm, coral reefs are among the first ecosystems to show distress. Scientists call them “canaries in the coal mine” for climate change—fragile indicators of a planet under pressure. Yet within their vibrant colors lies resilience; some corals adapt, forming partnerships with heat-tolerant algae. Nature, it seems, still seeks equilibrium.

The central idea of the passage is that:

The philosopher believed that true happiness did not come from wealth or recognition, but from purpose. To live well, he argued, one must act with integrity even when no one is watching. His students found the idea radical in a society obsessed with reputation. Yet his quiet conviction inspired generations to value character over appearance.

The passage’s main focus is on:

Every morning, the fisherman pushed his small boat into the mist, rowing toward the horizon. He never chased large catches; instead, he valued the stillness between waves. When asked why he fished, he smiled and said, “Because the sea listens when no one else does.” His words revealed not profit, but peace.

The fisherman’s attitude toward his work can best be described as:

In 1957, the launch of Sputnik startled the world. For the first time, a human-made object orbited Earth, and the night sky felt closer yet more mysterious. Some feared domination from above; others saw a new frontier of discovery. Either way, humanity had crossed a threshold—it could now touch the stars.

The author views the launch of Sputnik primarily as:

When the young inventor presented her solar-powered water purifier at the science fair, the judges were skeptical. The design was simple: sunlight passed through a glass dome, evaporating and condensing clean water. Yet its simplicity proved its strength. Months later, her model was adopted by relief organizations worldwide, transforming doubt into admiration.

The passage mainly illustrates:

During the 19th century, women’s suffrage movements gained strength across continents. In meetings and marches, they argued not for privilege but for participation. Their speeches often linked the right to vote with the right to be heard—a demand for dignity as much as equality. Their persistence laid the foundation for future reforms.

The author’s attitude toward the suffrage movement is best described as:

In a quiet village library, a young reader discovered a shelf of dusty astronomy books. Night after night, she traced the constellations described in their pages, imagining distant worlds. Years later, as an astrophysicist, she still recalled that shelf—the place where curiosity first became ambition.

The main purpose of the passage is to:

While the train rushed through the countryside, Marcus noticed the old factories—silent, overgrown with ivy. Once symbols of progress, they now seemed like monuments to a forgotten age. Yet he felt no bitterness, only curiosity: what new industries would rise where these had fallen?

The passage primarily explores:

For centuries, storytellers have shaped how societies understand themselves. From ancient myths to modern novels, each tale offers not just entertainment but identity. They remind listeners where they came from, and sometimes, who they might become. Stories, in this sense, are maps of meaning drawn by imagination.

The author suggests that stories function primarily as:

When Alexander Graham Bell demonstrated the first telephone, many observers dismissed it as a novelty. Few imagined that voices could travel across wires or that homes might one day ring with distant conversations. Yet within a generation, the telephone redefined connection, shrinking distances not on maps, but in minds. Communication had become instantaneous—and intimate.

The author’s central idea is that:

At the edge of the Arctic, scientists study permafrost that has remained frozen for millennia. As global temperatures rise, it begins to thaw, releasing carbon long trapped beneath the ice. Each wisp of methane is a reminder that the past still speaks—sometimes as a warning. The frozen earth, once a record of stability, now mirrors the planet’s fragility.

The author uses the description of permafrost primarily to:

In an old letter, a soldier wrote to his family during the First World War: “The trenches are endless mud, but hope still finds a way to bloom.” Decades later, his great-granddaughter read those words and felt their quiet strength. History, she realized, wasn’t only about battles—it was about endurance, compassion, and voices that refused to fade.

The primary purpose of the passage is to:

As the orchestra began, the conductor raised her baton, and silence fell like a curtain. Each musician waited, poised, for the first gesture—a small motion that would unite dozens of instruments. In that instant, she wasn’t commanding sound but guiding harmony, transforming individuality into one shared voice.

The author portrays the conductor primarily as:

When the last tree was cut down on Easter Island, the inhabitants could no longer build canoes to fish or transport statues. Historians still debate why they continued felling trees despite the visible decline. Perhaps they believed nature’s generosity endless—or perhaps denial is humanity’s oldest habit. The silence of the forests remains a question we have yet to answer.

The author’s tone can best be described as:

On the deck of the research vessel, Maya stared at the glowing plankton swirling in the water below. Each pulse of light seemed like a heartbeat of the sea. Her team collected samples to study bioluminescence, but for Maya, the glow represented something deeper—a reminder that even in the ocean’s darkest depths, life finds a way to shine.

The author’s main purpose is to:

When the printing press emerged in the fifteenth century, scholars feared it would cheapen knowledge. Handwritten manuscripts had symbolized learning and devotion; printed books seemed mechanical, impersonal. Yet the press democratized reading, spreading ideas faster than any voice could travel. The machine once seen as a threat became a vehicle of enlightenment.

The passage suggests that technological progress:

Each spring, migratory birds return to the same wetlands they left months before. Scientists have tracked some species flying thousands of miles across continents, guided only by instinct and starlight. To researchers, this journey is an evolutionary marvel; to poets, it’s a metaphor for memory—the unerring pull toward home.

The passage mainly conveys that migration is:

At the World’s Fair of 1893, visitors marveled at electric lights, moving walkways, and the towering Ferris wheel. For many, it was the first glimpse of a future driven by invention. Yet amid the excitement, a few critics warned that progress without purpose could blind society to its consequences. The fair became both a celebration and a caution.

The author’s view of the World’s Fair can best be described as:

Lena sat by the window as rain traced paths down the glass. Outside, the city blurred into color and sound, but inside, she felt still. She realized how rarely people paused to simply observe—to let the world move without rushing to join it. In that quiet moment, she understood that reflection, too, was a kind of motion.

The author uses Lena’s experience primarily to:

When the first photographs of Earth from space appeared in the late 1960s, they transformed how humanity saw itself. The “Blue Marble,” as it was called, revealed a planet both beautiful and fragile, suspended in the vast darkness. Environmental movements gained strength from that image; people began to think not as citizens of nations, but as caretakers of one shared home.

The passage primarily emphasizes:

The poet John Keats once described autumn as a “season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.” To him, fall was not an ending but a moment of ripeness—a pause between abundance and decay. Modern readers might see this as an invitation to appreciate transitions: the beauty in change, the calm in closure, and the balance that nature quietly teaches.

What is the main idea of the passage?

When the young inventor Hedy Lamarr co-created frequency-hopping technology during World War II, few took her seriously—she was known primarily as a Hollywood actress. Decades later, her innovation became the foundation for modern Wi-Fi and Bluetooth. Lamarr’s story challenges assumptions about who contributes to science and reminds us that genius often defies stereotypes.

The author’s tone toward Hedy Lamarr can best be described as:

As the storm approached, the lighthouse keeper trimmed the lantern and peered across the rising waves. Ships in the distance flashed their lights in reply. Alone on the rocky coast, he felt both fear and purpose. Each beam he cast into the darkness carried a message of hope—to guide others safely through what he himself could not escape.

The lighthouse in the passage most likely symbolizes:

In an age of constant notifications, true silence has become rare. Psychologists now argue that quiet moments are not empty but restorative. When freed from the noise of devices and conversation, the brain organizes thoughts, forms memories, and restores attention. Silence, it seems, is not the absence of sound but the presence of clarity.

What is the central claim of the passage?

When archaeologists uncovered a clay tablet in Mesopotamia, they found what appeared to be a recipe—complete with ingredients, measurements, and instructions. The tablet, over four thousand years old, revealed not only what people ate, but also how they recorded and shared knowledge. It showed that writing was not invented solely for trade or law, but also for preserving the pleasures of daily life.

The passage mainly suggests that ancient writing:

When scientists taught bonobos to communicate using a symbol board, they discovered something remarkable: the apes did not just respond to commands—they initiated conversations, asked for food, and even played jokes. This discovery blurred the line between human and animal intelligence, suggesting that language may be less a barrier and more a bridge between species.

The primary purpose of the passage is to:

When Eleanor Roosevelt entered the political stage, she was often dismissed as merely the wife of a president. Yet through her tireless advocacy for human rights and social reform, she redefined the role of First Lady. By using her position to give voice to the marginalized, she demonstrated that influence, when guided by empathy, could reshape history itself.

The author’s view of Eleanor Roosevelt is best described as:

At the edge of the forest, a small stream winds its way through moss and stone, whispering softly beneath the trees. Scientists studying its waters found traces of nutrients that sustain plants miles away. What seemed insignificant was, in fact, vital to the entire ecosystem. The smallest currents, they learned, often carry the greatest weight.

The stream in the passage most likely symbolizes:

In 1928, when Alexander Fleming returned from vacation, he noticed that mold had contaminated one of his bacterial cultures. Strangely, the bacteria near the mold were dead. That accident led to the discovery of penicillin—the world’s first antibiotic. Fleming’s story is a reminder that chance often rewards a mind prepared to notice what others overlook.

The main idea of the passage is that:

When the Wright brothers tested their first airplane at Kitty Hawk, many spectators doubted success. Years of failed attempts by others had made flight seem impossible. Yet their meticulous notes, small adjustments, and relentless curiosity turned skepticism into astonishment. Their achievement showed that progress is rarely sudden—it is built on persistence and patient observation.

The author’s main point is that:

In the early 20th century, cities began planting trees along streets not merely for decoration, but for health. Scientists discovered that trees filtered air, cooled neighborhoods, and even reduced stress. Decades later, urban planners now speak of “green infrastructure,” recognizing that nature is not separate from civilization—it is essential to it.

What is the central idea of the passage?

When a student asked her physics teacher why the sky is blue, the teacher smiled. “Because sunlight scatters differently depending on wavelength,” she explained. Then she paused. “But that’s only part of the truth. The better question is why we *notice* it.” In that moment, the student realized that science is not just about answers—it’s about learning how to wonder.

The passage primarily conveys that:

When the great library of Alexandria was destroyed, thousands of scrolls were lost. Yet the ideas within them—mathematics, astronomy, philosophy—survived through copies, translations, and memory. Knowledge, it seemed, could not be burned so easily. The passage of wisdom from one mind to another proved to be humanity’s most enduring form of preservation.

The passage suggests that knowledge:

In a remote Arctic village, the elders tell stories not to entertain but to remember. Through tales of ice spirits and long winters, they teach the young when to hunt, how to read the wind, and when the sea will freeze. These narratives carry knowledge that no textbook records—a living map of survival drawn from centuries of experience.

The author’s purpose is to highlight that:

When Mary Shelley wrote *Frankenstein*, she was only eighteen years old. Her story, born from a rainy summer spent with poets and dreamers, asked a question that still troubles us: what happens when creation escapes control? The creature, both human and monstrous, reflects not evil but loneliness—the price of genius without compassion.

What is the main idea of the passage?

In 1969, when humans first landed on the Moon, billions watched in awe. But beyond the spectacle, the mission symbolized something larger—the belief that knowledge and courage could overcome the impossible. The astronauts’ calm voices and the sight of Earth from space reminded humanity that we are both small and limitless.

What does the passage suggest about the Moon landing?

The honeybee’s dance is one of nature’s most intricate languages. When a worker finds nectar, it performs a “waggle dance,” spinning in circles and vibrating its body to indicate distance and direction. Though simple in appearance, this form of communication guides the entire hive’s foraging—an elegant example of collective intelligence in action.

Which statement best expresses the main idea of the passage?

In a famous experiment, psychologist Solomon Asch showed how easily people conform to group pressure. Participants were asked to match line lengths, but when others in the group gave obviously wrong answers, many followed. The study revealed a deep human desire—not to be right, but to belong.

What conclusion does the author draw from Asch’s experiment?

When archaeologists uncovered ancient footprints in Tanzania, they discovered something extraordinary: the tracks of two adults and a child walking together across volcanic ash nearly 3.6 million years ago. These imprints were not just fossils—they were stories of companionship and care, a moment of humanity long before the dawn of recorded history.

What idea is central to the passage?