English Language Arts: Rhetorical Analysis (TEKS.ELA.9-12.9.G) Practice Test

We do not inherit a community; we build it. We do not wait for opportunity; we shape it. We do not trade neighbors for strangers; we welcome both as partners. When a city commits to libraries, to parks, to lights that reach the darkest block, it commits to the simple proposition: access breeds ambition, and ambition, guided, breeds achievement. Consider our budget: line after line should sing the same chorus—invest in minds, invest in health, invest in safety—so that every child, every worker, every elder hears a promise kept. Let us measure not by what we cut, but by what we cultivate; not by how quickly we spend, but by how wisely we sow; not by who shouts the loudest, but by who stands longest beside the least heard. This is not extravagance; it is infrastructure for dignity. Let us move with the cadence of commitment, the cadence of clarity, the cadence of care, until the beat of our policies matches the heartbeat of our people. Plan with purpose, spend with prudence, serve with persistence, and the returns will be cumulative, not flashy; broad, not brittle; durable, not decorative; shared, not sequestered. Then budgets become bridges, and bridges carry together.

Texans remember freezing nights and dark kitchens, and we have a choice: embrace complete market freedom or accept permanent fragility. There is no middle lane. When government referees energy, competition stalls, investment flees, and the grid stiffens like a rusted hinge. When we unleash companies, reliability follows because profit punishes failure faster than any scolding committee. Choose rules, and you choose rationing; choose liberty, and you choose light. Some will murmur about "balanced reforms," but balance is just a slower blackout. Our state grew on decisive bets, not timid compromises. If we want power when storms hit, let power choose—where to build, what to price, how to innovate—without bureaucrats second-guessing every bolt. Any half-step is a full stumble. In the ranch house and the refinery, in the apartment and the school, the calculus is the same: either trust markets to adapt in minutes, or trust meetings to deliberate for months. The grid doesn't run on intentions; it runs on incentives. Two doors, Texans: door one lights the state; door two leaves us groping for candles. Pretend there are secret third options if you like; storms will not. They ask for choices made before clouds gather, not debates after the table.