After the floodwaters pushed through our coastal town, the high school became a hive of planning. Coach Valdez unlocked the gym, and the Boosters turned it into a supply hub. Our first handwritten sign said Rockport Strong, and folks brought canned beans, diapers, and pet food. Seniors sorted donations while freshmen swept muddy footprints into neat piles. By dusk, students were mapping streets to make sure no block in our zip code was missed. Before noon, we sent two truckloads to the neighboring town of Elmsford, where the grocery had been underwater for days. The volunteer fire crew radioed that backroads were clear enough for pickup trucks, so we loaded shovels, bleach, and bottled water. We added a stop at the farmworker cabins out on County Road 7, where families told us they had gotten no deliveries yet. After the last run, we ate cold tamales on the curb and made a list for tomorrow: baby formula, dog leashes, tarps. The air still smelled like river and gasoline, but the gym lights stayed on.

Claim: The community's response extended beyond helping only their own residents.

Which quotation from the passage best supports the claim?

On Saturdays I volunteer in the city greenhouse, a quiet place that smells like damp earth and sunscreen. I had started the day feeling like a misplaced stone in a riverbed, bumped by every conversation at school. Most of the other plants huddled together on benches, but the cactus stood slightly apart, stout and prickled, a small sunburned soldier. I carried a single cup of water, careful not to drown the roots. When the light hit the spines, they glittered like armor. I wrote tags for seedlings and stacked empty pots, keeping to myself while the others traded jokes across the aisle. The heat pressed through the glass, but the cactus did not wilt. If the cactus can thrive on little, I can, too; I will keep my head high. Before I left, I straightened the cactus so it no longer leaned toward the walkway, and, for the first time that day, I didn't feel like something to be stepped around.

Claim: The cactus symbolizes the narrator's resilience despite feeling isolated.

Which quotation from the passage best supports the claim?

Cities across Texas are heating up, but not every cooling strategy works the same way. Researchers walked summer transects in three neighborhoods, carrying infrared thermometers and logging shade, pavement, and roof color. Cooling strategies include reflective materials, tree canopy, and permeable pavement, each with different benefits. White roofs lowered indoor temperatures and reduced energy use, especially in single-story homes. Yet outside, the story shifted. In our Austin pilot, streets shaded by mature oaks ran 9 degrees cooler than nearby blocks with light-colored roofs but no trees. In San Marcos, a plaza ringed with elms recorded afternoon surface temperatures that fell by 7 degrees after five years of growth, while adjacent buildings with fresh reflective paint showed smaller changes at street level. A pocket park with 30 new saplings saw modest improvements the first year, but by the third summer, midday readings dropped enough that playground equipment no longer burned skin. For neighbors who walk, wait at bus stops, or work outdoors, shade alters the air they actually breathe.

Claim: Planting trees is more effective at cooling neighborhood temperatures than simply painting roofs a lighter color.

Which quotation from the passage best supports the claim?

Our family runs a small panaderia on the West Side, its pink walls fading a little more each summer. Before dawn, the radio murmurs while we knead dough and shape conchas on cool metal tables. We still fold the dough the way Abuela taught us, but we added a pecan-praline concha after customers asked for a Texas twist. Some mornings, Dad experiments with kolache-inspired fillings. Tourists snap photos of the mural outside, but it's the regulars who notice when the cinnamon runs low. On First Fridays, we set out extra trays and brew cinnamon coffee for the artists who rent stalls down the street. When we switched to local pecans to keep costs steady, a rancher started delivering sacks in the back of his pickup. Business rises and falls with the heat, the Spurs' schedule, and word of mouth. We keep the recipe cards stained and creased, but we listen when people suggest smaller sizes for school lunches. The shelves empty either way, a mix of old and new disappearing before noon.

Claim: The family balances preserving tradition with adapting to local tastes to sustain the business.

Which quotation from the passage best supports the claim?

Every year our middle school revisits the cell phone policy. Teachers ask for fewer buzzing pockets; parents worry about getting through if buses are delayed; students argue that phones help them navigate assignments. Some teachers say, "Phones are the biggest distraction in class," and they're not wrong. I've sat through assemblies where a total ban is praised as the cleanest fix, and I admit the idea is tempting: no scrolling, no selfies, no whispers under desks. But rules should match reality. Many families in our district coordinate rides with shift-work parents, translate messages with apps, and check weather alerts when storms pop up. If an emergency happens, a phone can summon help faster than any intercom. Phones also can be turned into tools—timers for labs, cameras for documenting projects—when adults set clear boundaries. A total ban sounds tidy, but in a building where families rely on rideshares, translation apps, and emergency texts, it isn't realistic; a structured, limited-use policy is. We could designate "green zones" like the cafeteria and set times when phones are allowed, while keeping them away during instruction. That approach respects learning and life outside the classroom. It's not perfect, but it acknowledges how school actually works.

Claim: The author believes a complete ban on phones is impractical and instead supports a structured, limited-use policy.

Which quotation from the passage best supports the claim?

On the morning the bayou left its banks, our street turned into a slow river. Sirens wailed somewhere far off, but the first knock on our door came from Mr. Flores, who lives two houses down and owns a flat-bottom boat. Before the hotlines were fully staffed, neighbors used group texts and small fishing boats to ferry families from porches to the library steps. By sunset, the city opened a shelter in the high school gym. Volunteers sorted cots while the band director found blankets in the prop closet. Donation bins filled the stage by Tuesday, stacked with diapers and bottled water. In the days that followed, church kitchens and taquerias served steaming plates to anyone who walked in. Later that week, the county updated its floodplain maps and promised to study drainage. Officials did their work, eventually—and we needed them. But in those first hours, when the water surprised us and the power flickered, the people who knew the curves of the bayou and the dips in the road were the ones who moved fastest.

Claim: In the first hours after the flood, informal networks responded faster than official channels.

Which quotation from the passage best supports the claim?

The pecan tree behind our house is older than anyone in the neighborhood. Abuela says her father planted it when the street was still gravel and the sky looked bigger. We've paid to clear pecans from the gutters every fall, and we've missed sleep when squirrels hold midnight feasts. When storms lean on it, the trunk creaks like a door you're not sure you should open. Last month, a contractor eyed the roots and frowned; the sidewalk buckles where they press, and the city sent us a notice. The contractor offered a discount if we cut it before summer. I ran my hand along the bark and felt the shallow grooves, like lines in a palm. Abuela touched the lowest branch and told me how that tree shaded the table where she studied English after long shifts. Its roots don't just hold soil; they hold our stories. I imagine the yard without its shade—lighter, tidier, emptier—and I'm not sure that's an improvement.

Claim: The pecan tree symbolizes the narrator's connection to family history.

Which quotation from the passage best supports the claim?

I grew up in a border town where the morning announcements switched languages as easily as buses switch lanes. At debate practice, my accent stumbles on certain vowels, and sometimes I hear it more than the argument. Some judges glance at my last name and mispronounce it, then apologize with a shrug. At first I wished I could tuck half of myself away during tournaments in San Antonio. But after one round, a teammate's grandmother called, worried because she couldn't follow the livestream updates. Abuela's stories slow like river water, and I translate them for my little brother. In the same way, I called her back and translated the standings for her, then explained the topic we'd argued. Speaking both Spanish and English doesn't split me in half; it doubles the number of doors I can open for others. I still practice my vowels, but now I hear my voice as a bridge, not a barrier.

Claim: The narrator views bilingualism as a strength that builds bridges rather than a liability.

Which quotation from the passage best supports the claim?