Text 1: The gym smelled like bleach and wet sneakers when we unlocked the doors. I stacked cases of water while Ms. Rios showed families to cots we had folded that morning. Outside, the sky was finally a clean blue, but soggy leaves clung to the curb like confetti. A little boy asked if the lights would stay on tonight. I told him yes, even though I was not sure. We set up a corner with crayons and blankets, and someone found a radio playing old songs. My arms ached, but when we lined up hot meals, the room got quieter, then warmer. Helping felt like anchoring a boat after the storm.

Text 2: Along the Texas coast, counties update evacuation routes each spring and review shelter capacity before hurricane season. Emergency managers urge families to make a plan, pack a go bag, and know where to get reliable alerts. After major storms, local agencies coordinate with volunteers to distribute supplies and provide temporary housing. Officials stress that preparation lowers risk, especially for people in low-lying neighborhoods. Communities also practice how to reopen schools and clinics safely. While forecasts improve each year, flooding and power outages still disrupt daily life. Strong response depends on neighbors, clear communication, and patience, from the first warning to the long days of cleanup.

Which response best compares how the two texts address storms and community response?

Text 1: March, 1935. Today the sky turned the color of rust by noon, and the fence posts vanished like they had never been there. Mama hung wet sheets over the windows, but dust still found the crack under the door. We wrapped scarves across our faces and waited for the rattle to ease. Our wheat is mostly gone, and the milk cow coughs like me. Mr. Jenkins dismissed class early because the lanterns could not push through the grit. I miss how the stars used to look sharp as pins. Papa says the Panhandle has seen hard years before. I fold this letter praying for rain strong enough to wash the world clean.

Text 2: Last weekend I toured a wind farm outside Lubbock with our science club. The towers hummed like giant fans, and the guide talked about how turbines help when drought makes power usage spike. At home, my grandparents tell stories about dirt storms, so I think about wind two ways: how it once carried trouble, and how it now turns into energy. Our school started a conservation group to plant native grass by the soccer field and teach younger students to save water. I set a barrel under our gutter and measured what a surprise shower can give. We cannot change the weather, but we can decide how to live with it.

Which statement best compares the two texts' perspectives on wind and dry conditions in Texas?

Text 1: On Monday I told Principal Ortiz that our lunches needed more colors than beige. He laughed, but I showed him the survey my friends and I ran in homeroom. Most students wanted a salad bar if we could try toppings first. By Friday, Ms. Carlisle rolled out a cart with bowls of crisp lettuce, roasted chickpeas, and bright oranges. I watched the line form, a little nervous no one would come. Then Jayden piled his tray like a mountain and gave me a thumbs-up. The room buzzed differently, like we had a new station on the radio. It was still pizza day, but our choices felt wider, and so did I.

Text 2: Schools that improve nutrition often invite students to help design menus. Districts review guidelines for balanced meals, then host tastings to gather feedback about recipes. Successful programs build partnerships among cafeteria staff, teachers, and student leaders. Offering a salad bar or a rotating fruit station can increase the number of students who try vegetables. Clear labeling and student-made signs at the line help peers discover new foods. While budgets and time are real limits, small changes like seasoning beans well or roasting vegetables can make a difference. When students feel heard, they are more likely to choose healthier options and reduce waste, turning lunch into a learning moment.

Which answer best compares how the two texts treat student involvement in school lunch changes?

Text 1: We move like parts of a clock that trusts its own ticking, each gear catching teeth and turning. Your idea is a spark, mine is a wire, and together they call light into the room. We pass the ball, the brush, the sentence, not to drop it but to see who adds the next bright corner. The rhythm we make is not loud, just steady, like oars pulling in time across a lake. If one hand rests, the other rows harder, then we switch. At the end, the picture looks like all our names without us writing them. The work hums because we tuned it together.

Text 2: To plan a community mural with your class, begin by agreeing on a theme everyone supports. Sketch ideas in small groups, then combine the strongest parts into one draft. Next, assign roles: grid makers, paint mixers, background rollers, detail artists, and cleanup crew. Prepare the wall by cleaning it and taping edges. Before painting, practice color choices on cardboard to avoid surprises. On work day, rotate through stations so everyone contributes and rests safely. Take photos between layers to track progress. When the mural dries, hold a small unveiling and thank helpers. Clear steps and shared responsibilities make teamwork run smoothly and leave a lasting result.

Which statement best compares the two texts' approaches to the theme of teamwork?

Excerpt 1: My stomach rumbled when I saw the cafeteria menu taped to the wall: quinoa bowls, roasted carrots, and fruit cups. Last year, pizza slices slid across trays like skaters, leaving orange tracks of grease. Now Ms. Patel, our new nutrition director, walks table to table, asking what we think. I told her the roasted carrots tasted like candy, and she laughed, handing me a tiny cup of spices to try. It feels weird that lunch is an experiment and we're the test group, but I like being asked. When my friend Jordan grumbled about missing the old pizza, I convinced him to try the quinoa. He ate it all.

Excerpt 2: In the past year, our district replaced high-fat entrees with whole grains, vegetables, and lean proteins. According to the wellness office, student participation in lunch increased, and food waste declined after taste-test events. These changes did not happen by accident; the school board approved a plan, hired a nutrition director, and partnered with local farms to supply seasonal produce. While some students say they miss the old favorites, surveys show most are satisfied when offered choices and clear information about ingredients. Healthy meals are part of a healthy school day, improving energy and focus in class. The district should continue funding training for cafeteria staff.

Which statement best compares the two excerpts?

Excerpt 1: July winds comb the grass to the roots, and the creek is a string of dull puddles. We haul barrels two miles from the last spring that has not given up. Father counts the cattle by the dust they make; fewer tracks each day. We save dishwater for the garden and tip it carefully onto the beans. Our neighbor offered to sell us a share of his well, but the price is dear, and he worries it will go dry, too. At supper, we chew slowly so the biscuits will last. If a rain cloud shows its face over the mesa, we stop and listen, as if listening might bring it closer.

Excerpt 2: This summer, our city asked residents to cut outdoor watering, and my science club decided to help. We mapped lawns around our school and offered free mulching days to keep soil moist. At home, my family installed a rain barrel and swapped thirsty plants for native ones that can handle heat. We also visited the water utility's open house to learn how leak sensors and smart meters save thousands of gallons. Drought still stresses parks and creeks, but it helps to see neighbors show up with shovels and buckets. I can't control the weather, yet I can vote in student council and cheer for policies that protect our rivers.

Which statement best compares the two excerpts?

Excerpt 1: We move like a murmuration, not one bird but many, turning on a shout you can't hear. The court is a sky of squeaks and breath. A pass is a flash, a thought with fingerprints. When I fake left, Emi glides right, and the lane opens, a door on quick hinges. Coach once tried to name the play, but what we have lives between names, in glances and open hands. We keep time with sneakers and heartbeats, and when the ball snaps the net, it sounds like a yes we all said together. After the buzzer, the echo still floats, a shape that belongs to all of us.

Excerpt 2: Our robotics team learned that coordination doesn't happen by accident. We built a schedule, assigned roles, and practiced handoffs just like passing a ball. The programming group wrote clear comments so the builders could troubleshoot when code met metal. Before competitions, we ran mock rounds where the drive team narrated every move. When something failed, we paused to ask why and logged the lesson. Teamwork felt less like magic and more like a system anyone could learn. The result wasn't only a working robot; it was trust. We knew who to ask for help, and we shared credit when the robot lifted the final block.

Which response best compares how the two excerpts treat the idea of teamwork?

Excerpt 1: In this town, the annual rodeo began as a neighborly contest after the spring roundup. Riders tested their skills, then shared stews and songs under the star-thick sky. Over time, bleachers rose where pickup trucks once parked, and volunteers stitched banners while kids learned to rope from grandparents. The arena became a scrapbook of names and brands, a place where fund-raisers paid for library books and where the marching band debuted new uniforms. To visitors, it might look like a show; to locals, it feels like a reunion with dust and applause. The buckles shine because stories polish them—stories of work, weather, and the courage to climb back on.

Excerpt 2: Across the country, rodeos are marketed as entertainment and heritage, but we should look closely at what that means for animals and audiences. Events that rely on restraint or speed can increase risk for injuries, and the roar of the crowd may hide discomfort we would not accept elsewhere. Tradition matters, yet traditions can change as communities learn more about animal welfare and safety. Celebrations of skill and strength need not come at a cost to living creatures. Cities and schools can choose alternatives—festivals, exhibitions, or demonstrations—that honor history without normalizing harm. We should applaud courage, but also compassion, when deciding which events to support.

Which statement best compares the two excerpts' perspectives on rodeos?