Based on the passage about Mira, how do Mira's expected feelings about the visit compare with what she actually feels once she is on the swing?
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12 questions
Based on the passage about Mira, how do Mira's expected feelings about the visit compare with what she actually feels once she is on the swing?
Based on the passage about Mira and the porch swing, which detail most directly supports the idea that Mira's grandmother had a personal influence on her?
Based on the passage about the Hudson River School, the relationship between the painters and their contemporary critics is best described as:
Based on the passage about the Ohio town, the cause-and-effect relationship the author emphasizes is best described as:
In the late nineteenth century, a small town in central Ohio quietly transformed itself in a way that nearby cities did not. The town, which had relied for decades on a single iron foundry, faced collapse when the foundry closed in 1887. Rather than wait for a replacement industry, the town council voted to use municipal funds to build a public library, a brick schoolhouse, and an opera house — all within five years.
Historians studying the region have argued that this decision, which seemed extravagant at the time, was the reason the town survived the difficult decade that followed. The reasoning is straightforward. Skilled workers and their families, the historians note, did not move only for jobs. They moved for the prospect of stability and culture, and a town with a library and a school sent a signal that it intended to last. Within a decade, two new manufacturers — a furniture maker and a small ceramics firm — had relocated to the town, citing the quality of the local schools as a deciding factor.
The case is sometimes contrasted with that of a neighboring town only fifteen miles away, which had relied on the same foundry's contracts and which chose instead to lower local taxes to attract new business. That town offered cheaper land and cheaper labor but had no civic institutions to speak of. By 1900 its population had declined by nearly a third, while the Ohio town that had built the library had grown.
The lesson, if there is one, is not that culture by itself rescues a local economy. The lesson is that investment in public goods can serve as a signal — to workers, to investors, to nearby towns — that a community believes in its own future. Tax cuts alone, the historians suggest, send a quieter and more ambiguous message.
The author's central claim in the passage is best stated as:
The Hudson River School, a loose group of American landscape painters active from roughly the 1820s to the 1870s, has often been described as the first distinctively American art movement. The label is somewhat misleading. The painters trained in European studios when they could afford to, and their compositions borrowed liberally from the formulas of the British and German romantics. What set them apart was not technique but conviction. They believed that the American landscape — the unfarmed valleys of the Catskills, the storm-bent peaks of the White Mountains, the vast, gray-green light of the Adirondacks — was itself a moral subject, worthy of the same serious attention a European painter might give to a cathedral or a ruin.
This conviction was inseparable from the historical moment. In the decades before the Civil War, the United States was rapidly clearing its forests, draining its wetlands, and laying down railroads. The Hudson River painters were among the earliest American voices to argue, in oil paint rather than in pamphlets, that the country was losing something it had not yet learned to name. Critics at the time sometimes dismissed their canvases as merely sentimental. The painters answered, in private letters and in published essays, that what looked like sentiment was in fact an argument: that wilderness had a worth not reducible to lumber or farmland.
Later movements would treat the Hudson River School as an embarrassment, a quaint anachronism whose huge skies and dramatic light belonged to an unsophisticated age. The judgment has softened. By the late twentieth century, environmental historians had begun to read these paintings as a record of what the country looked like before extensive industrialization, and as one of the earliest American articulations of an idea — that landscape itself has moral standing — that would later anchor conservation politics.
The author's main point about the Hudson River School is that:
Based on the passage about Mira, which of the following best describes the sequence of events on the day described?
Based on the passage about the Hudson River School, how does the view of the school in the late twentieth century compare with the view held by earlier post–Hudson River movements?
Based on the passage about the Hudson River School, which detail most directly supports the claim that the painters were responding to changes in the country around them?
Based on the passage about the Ohio town, which detail does the author offer as the most direct evidence that the town's investments attracted new business?
Based on the passage about the Ohio town, how does the neighboring town compare with the town described in the rest of the passage?
Mira had not expected the porch swing to still be there. Twelve summers had come and gone since she last sat on it, and yet the chains held, the boards held, even the small chip in the left armrest where she had once dropped a glass jar of fireflies. She sat down carefully, the way one sits in a museum, and the swing groaned a familiar complaint.
Her grandmother's house behind her was sold now to strangers, the deed signed only that morning at a lawyer's office in town. Mira had asked to walk the grounds one final time before the new owners arrived. The realtor, who had her own children to fetch from school, had handed Mira the keys with a sigh and said she could leave them under the planter.
The garden was wild. Honeysuckle had swallowed the trellis. The peach tree her grandfather had planted the year Mira was born leaned dramatically toward the south fence, as if listening for something the rest of the yard could not hear. Mira tried to feel sad, the way she had felt sad in the car driving over, but the sadness would not stay still. It kept slipping sideways into something else — into the memory of her grandmother teaching her to whistle on this very swing, into the smell of cut grass and creek mud, into the simple animal pleasure of being alone outside on a warm afternoon.
She had told her brother she would only stay an hour. She had told herself the same. But the swing kept moving, gently, of its own slight momentum, and Mira found she did not yet know how to stand up.
The passage is primarily concerned with: