Mcgraw Hill 10 Act Practice Tests Seventh Edition Steven W Dulan Full Chapter
Mcgraw Hill 10 Act Practice Tests Seventh Edition Steven W Dulan Full Chapter
ISBN: 978-1-26-479332-7
MHID: 1-26-479332-4
The material in this eBook also appears in the print version of this
title: ISBN: 978-1-26-479209-2, MHID: 1-26-479209-3.
TERMS OF USE
PRACTICE TEST 1
Answer Key
Scoring Guide
Answers and Explanations
PRACTICE TEST 2
Answer Key
Scoring Guide
Answers and Explanations
PRACTICE TEST 3
Answer Key
Scoring Guide
Answers and Explanations
PRACTICE TEST 4
Answer Key
Scoring Guide
Answers and Explanations
PRACTICE TEST 5
Answer Key
Scoring Guide
Answers and Explanations
PRACTICE TEST 6
Answer Key
Scoring Guide
Answers and Explanations
PRACTICE TEST 7
Answer Key
Scoring Guide
Answers and Explanations
PRACTICE TEST 8
Answer Key
Scoring Guide
Answers and Explanations
PRACTICE TEST 9
Answer Key
Scoring Guide
Answers and Explanations
PRACTICE TEST 10
Answer Key
Scoring Guide
Answers and Explanations
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
The techniques included in this book are the result of Steve and
Amy’s experiences with students at all ability and motivation levels
over many years.
“After working with Steve, I was able to crack the ACT and got
a 36 on all my subscores and a 36 composite score! His help
made all the difference in getting those last few points for a
perfect score!”
C.S. (Student)
Contact Amy or Steve directly with any questions about this book.
[email protected]
[email protected]
McGraw-Hill
10 ACT Practice Tests
UNDERSTANDING THE ACT
ACT SCORES
Each of the multiple-choice sections of the ACT is called a Test. Each
test is given a score on a scale of 1 to 36. These four “scale scores”
are then averaged and rounded according to normal rounding rules
to yield a Composite Score. It is this Composite Score that is most
often meant when someone refers to your ACT score.
One important thing that can be said about scores is that you
don’t have to be perfect to get a good score on the ACT. The truth is
that you can miss a fair number of questions and still get a score
that places you in the top 1 percent of all test takers. In fact, this
test is so hard and the time limit is so unrealistic for most test takers
that you can get a score that is at the national average (about a 21)
even if you get almost half of the questions wrong. Use the scoring
guidelines provided in this book to estimate your ACT score at each
stage of your preparation.
PASSAGE I
Hair-raising Problems
2. F. NO CHANGE
G. pay
H. pay using money
J. pay with some money
6. F. NO CHANGE
G. rapidly mixing
H. mixed rapidly in
J. rapidly mix in to
8. F. NO CHANGE
G. was being
H. could of been
J. was
10. F. NO CHANGE
G. Also
H. Instead
J. In light of this
13. A. NO CHANGE
B. proven
C. shown by proving
D. DELETE the underlined portion
15. Suppose the writer had chosen to write an article about how
to change your hair color. Would this essay fulfill the writer’s
goal?
A. Yes, because the author’s approach to changing her own
hair color would ease the anxiety of others wishing to do
the same.
B. Yes, because this essay emphasizes the universality of
people changing their hairstyles and hair color.
C. No, because this article only deals with the narrator’s own
experimentation with her hair and does not provide steps
for others to do the same.
D. No, because the essay discourages people from changing
their hair color.
PASSAGE II
A Modern Blacksmith
You will probably never find his name in a history book, but to this
day, Walker Lee continues to contribute to Walker
Lee is an old-fashioned, modern-
16. F. NO CHANGE
G. American heritage.
H. Americas heritage.
J. American’s heritage.
Lee’s first anvil cost him $100, and four months later, he paid $75
for an additional implement—a vice—from Cornell University in New
York. This important tool also made way back to Michigan in the
back of Lee’s 4-H bus.
22. F. NO CHANGE
G. its
H. its’
J. the
23. A. NO CHANGE
B. Carting 4-H groups out from Michigan to the east coast for
various county fairs and expositions, Lee had spent the
summer.
C. Lee had spent the summer, for various county fairs and
expositions, carting 4-H groups out from Michigan to the
east coast.
D. DELETE the underlined portion
In the interest of
[1] The very first object Lee forged in his shop was a
Hudson Bay dagger.
26. F. NO CHANGE
G. long pointed,
H. long, and pointed
J. long, pointed
PASSAGE III
Scorpion Scare
As my sister telling me about the scorpion in her bed
that stung her as she
31. A. NO CHANGE
B. begun
C. had began
D. began
33. A. NO CHANGE
B. could have thought
C. thinking
D. had thought
35. A. NO CHANGE
B. flushes
C. flushing
D. flushed
36. F. NO CHANGE
G. are more deadlier than others
H. being more deadly than others
J. since they’re more deadly than others
My sister characteristically chose not to seek medical treatment as
her upper arm first swelled, then ached with pain, and finally
became numb and useless. 37 As her condition worsened, instead
of calling her physician, she searched the Internet for general
information, discovering time and again that species identification is
important in administering proper care to the sting victim.
37. Assuming that all of the choices are true, which one best
links the preceding sentence with the rest of the paragraph?
A. Diana is often mistrustful of hospitals, doctors, and nurses.
B. Most scorpion bites should be examined by a medical
professional.
C. My sister’s physician had treated many scorpion bites.
D. Symptoms of a scorpion sting can vary from one person to
another.
39. A. NO CHANGE
B. scorpion’s naturally
C. scorpion natural
D. scorpions’ natural
bulldozers and dump trucks.
. Unfortunately, one of
those species is the Bark
40. F. NO CHANGE
G. In Arizona, about 30 percent of the ninety scorpion
species native to the United States live.
H. Arizona has about 30 percent of the ninety scorpion
species, living in the United States.
J. Of the ninety species of scorpions, 30 percent native to
the United States live in Arizona.
My sister and her husband moved into a new home a year ago,
and dozens of homes are still being built all around them. This,
indeed, is a perfect explanation for the presence of a scorpion in
their bedclothes. Scorpions hide during the day and search for food
and water at night, often quietly entering the home of an
unsuspecting human. Arizonans will tell you that it’s a good idea to
refrain from going barefoot in the dark, .
42. If the author were to delete the phrase “both outside and
inside,” the essay would primarily lose a detail that:
F. adds essential information to the discussion of Arizona.
G. is not particularly necessary to the impact of the essay.
H. supports the reference to the scorpions’ behavior.
J. adds an element of humor to the essay’s theme.
PASSAGE IV
Unfulfilled Promises
If you have ever entered a contest of any are well aware
of the legal requirements, exclusions, and
46. F. NO CHANGE
G. sort; you
H. sort you
J. sort, you
48. F. NO CHANGE
G. asserting
H. by asserting
J. and assertions
50. F. NO CHANGE
G. promise for the
H. promised
J. promising
52. F. NO CHANGE
G. greatly rewarding
H. great reward
J. greatest reward
54. F. NO CHANGE
G. have set off
H. set off
J. went to set off
Presumably,
Helga and Clara found food and shelter along the way, and they
arrived in New York City in December, seven months after their
departure. The contest sponsors, however, .
55. A. NO CHANGE
B. For protection, Helga carried a revolver as well as a
pepper-containing spray gun.
C. Helga, for protection, she carried a revolver and a spray
gun containing pepper.
D. Carried by Helga for protection were a revolver and a
spray gun containing pepper.
56. F. NO CHANGE
G. were nowhere when found
H. to be found nowhere
J. were nowhere to be found
unheated shed, thinking that this was the only way to keep them
from being infected with the disease. Since the contest sponsor
failed to award Helga the money, the Estbys ended up losing the
farm; her expedition had been a disaster.
At the time, Helga’s trip was considered an embarrassment by the
Norwegian-American community and was kept utterly quiet. After
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no related content on Scribd:
sometimes there came into them a look that was almost wild.... The
blackness and the brightness of his eyes were brought into greater
relief by the almost deadly pallor of his complexion.... As he walked
up the floor of the House he seemed to be enveloped by a great
solitude, so unmistakably did he stand out from all the figures around
him.
I must add to this description of his extreme physical gifts the
wonderful quality of his voice. It was a powerful voice, but sweet and
melodious, and it was managed as exquisitely and as faithfully as
the song of a great prima donna. If the speech were ringing, it came
to your ears almost soft by that constant change of tone which the
voice displayed; it could whisper, it could thunder.... I have seen
many great figures, but, with all respect to the greatest among them,
the House of Commons without Gladstone seems to me as great a
contrast as a chamber illumined by a farthing dip when the electric
light has failed.”
XIV
A ROOM WITHOUT A VIEW
O DARLING ROOM
O darling room, my heart’s delight,
Dear room, the apple of my sight,
With thy two couches soft and white,
There is no room so exquisite,
No little room so warm and bright,
Wherein to read, wherein to write.
Imagine the profanity and laughter this piffle must have aroused
among the book reviewers; some of his severer critics called him
“Miss Alfred,” not knowing that he was a six-footer, with a voice like a
sea captain in a fog.
I have no mind to defend the poem. Apart from the fact that the
reading of it ought to teach Americans the correct accent on the word
“exquisite,” it must be admitted that when Tennyson wrote this stuff
he not only nodded but snored.
But, although it is difficult for me to understand how he could
have written it, have read it in proof and then published it, I perfectly
understand and sympathise with his enthusiasm for the room.
It is often said that polygamous gentlemen are—at any rate, for a
considerable period—monogamous; the Turk may have a long list of
wives, but he will cleave to one, either because he wants to or
because she compels him to. Thus, even in a house that has a
variety of sitting rooms, or living rooms or whatever you choose to
call them, the family will use only one. After the evening meal they
will instinctively move toward this one favourite room.
There is no doubt that even as dogs and cats have their
favourite corner or chair, or favourite cushion of nightly repose, men
and women have favourite rooms. And if this is true of a family in
general, it is especially true of a man or a woman whose
professional occupation is writing; and he becomes so attached to
his room that Tennyson’s sentiments, no matter how silly in
expression, accurately represent his emotion.
Twice a year, once in June and once in September,
circumstances force me to leave a room where I have for a long time
spent the larger part of my waking hours; I always feel the pain of
parting, look around the walls and at the desk and wish the place an
affectionate farewell, hoping to see it again, either in the autumn or
in the next summer, as the case may be. I love that room, as
Tennyson loved his room. I love it not because of the view from the
windows, for a working room should not have too good a view, but
for the visions that have there appeared to the eyes of the mind. It is
the place where I have sat in thought, where such ideas as are
possible to my limited range have appeared to me and where I have
endeavoured to express them in words.
And if I can have so strong a passion for a room, with what
tremendous intensity must an inspired poet or novelist love the
secluded chamber where his imagination has found free play!
We know that Hawthorne, after his graduation from college,
spent twelve years in one room in Salem. When he revisited that
room as a famous writer he looked at it with unspeakable affection
and declared that if ever he had a biographer great mention must be
made in his memoir of this chamber, for here his mind and character
had been formed and here the immortal children of his fancy had
played around him. He was alone and not alone. As far as a mortal
man may understand the feelings of a man of genius, I understand
the emotion of Hawthorne.
I think nearly every one, if he were able to afford it, would like to
have a room all his own. I believe it to be an important factor in the
development of the average boy or girl if in the family house each
child could have one room sacred to its own personality. When I was
a small boy, although I loved to be with family and friends, I also
loved to escape to my own room and read and meditate in solitude.
The age of machinery is not so adverse to spiritual development
as the age of hotels and apartment houses; there is no opportunity
for solitude, and a certain amount of solitude, serene and secure
from interruption, is almost essential for the growth of the mind. A
great many girls and women could be saved from the curse of
“nerves” if there were a place somewhere in the building where they
could be for a time alone. One of the worst evils of poverty is that
there is no solitude; eating, sleeping, living, all without privacy.
When I was a graduate student in the university I was fortunate
enough to possess for one year exactly the right kind of room. The
young philosopher, George Santayana, came to see me and
exclaimed, “What a perfect room for a scholar! The windows high up,
as they should be.” For if one is to have clear mental vision it is not
well that the room should have a view.
XV
TEA
“Thank God,” said Sydney Smith, “thank God for tea! What
would the world do without tea?—how did it exist? I am glad I was
not born before tea.” Well, I get along very well without tea, though I
rejoice to see that more and more in “big business” houses in
American cities there is a fifteen-minute pause for afternoon tea.
One of the chief differences between the life of Englishmen and
of Americans is tea. Millions of Englishmen take tea three times a
day. Tea is brought to their bedside early in the morning, and thirstily
swallowed while in a horizontal attitude. The first thing an
Englishman thinks of, if he wakes at dawn, is tea. When Arnold
Bennett was travelling in America he took a limited train from New
York to Chicago. Early in the morning he rang for the porter and
when that individual appeared he commanded nonchalantly a cup of
tea. He might as well have asked for a pot of hashish. The porter
mechanically remarked that the “diner” would be put on at such-and-
such an hour. This unintelligible contribution to the conversation was
ignored by the famous novelist, who repeated his demand for tea.
He was amazed to find there was no tea. “And you call this a first-
class train!”
Then at breakfast—a substantial meal in British homes, though
having somewhat the air of a cafeteria—tea is drunk copiously. To
the average American tea for breakfast is flat and unprofitable. We
are accustomed to the most inspiring beverage in the world, actual
coffee. The coffee in England is so detestable that when an
American tastes it for the first time he thinks it is a mistake. And he is
right. It is. Many Americans give it up and reluctantly order tea. In my
judgment, for breakfast the worst coffee is better than the best tea.
There are many Americans who have tea served at luncheon.
For some reason this seems to the Englishman sacrilegious. The
late Professor Mahaffy, who is now (I suppose) drinking nectar, was
absolutely horrified to find that in my house he was offered a cup of
tea at lunch. “Tea for lunch!” he screamed, and talked about it for the
rest of the meal.
I was invited by a charming American lady to meet an English
author at her house for luncheon. Tea was served and she said
deprecatingly to the British author, “I don’t suppose you have tea at
this time in England.” “Oh, yes,” said he, “the servants often have it
below stairs.” To my delight, the hostess said, “Now, Mr. ——, aren’t
you really ashamed of offering me an insult like that? Isn’t that
remark of yours exactly the kind of thing you are going to be
ashamed of when you think it over, all by yourself?”
At precisely 4:13 p.m. every day the average Englishman has a
thirst for the astringent taste of tea. He does not care for hot water or
hot lemonade coloured with tea. He likes his tea so strong that to me
it has a hairy flavour. Many years ago the famous Scot William
Archer invited me to his rooms in the Hotel Belmont, New York, for
afternoon tea at 4:15. He had several cups and at five o’clock
excused himself, as he had to go out to an American home for tea. I
suggested that he had already had it. “Oh, that makes no difference.”
There are several good reasons (besides bad coffee) for tea in
England. Breakfast is often at nine (the middle of the morning to me),
so that early tea is desirable. Dinner is often at eight-thirty, so that
afternoon tea is by no means superfluous. Furthermore, of the three
hundred and sixty-five days of the year in England, very, very few
are warm; and afternoon tea is not only cheerful and sociable but in
most British interiors really necessary to start the blood circulating.
There are few more agreeable moments in life than tea in an
English country house in winter. It is dark at four o’clock. The family
and guests come in from the cold air. The curtains are drawn, the
open wood fire is blazing, the people sit down around the table and
with a delightful meal—for the most attractive food in England is
served at afternoon tea—drink of the cheering beverage.
William Cowper, in the eighteenth century, gave an excellent
description:
Not long before this poem was written the traveller Jonas
Hanway had the bad luck to publish an essay on tea, “considered as
pernicious to health, obstructing industry, and impoverishing the
nation,” which naturally drew the artillery fire of the great Dr.
Johnson. Sir John Hawkins, in his life of Johnson, comments on this
controversy. He says: “That it is pernicious to health is disputed by
physicians”—where have I heard something like that recently? But
Hawkins continues: “Bishop Burnet, for many years, drank sixteen
large cups of it every morning, and never complained that it did him
the least injury.”
As for Johnson, “he was a lover of tea to an excess hardly
credible; whenever it appeared, he was almost raving, and by his
impatience to be served, his incessant calls for those ingredients
which make that liquor palatable, and the haste with which he
swallowed it down, he seldom failed to make that a fatigue to every
one else, which was intended as a general refreshment.”
In nearly every English novel I find the expression, “I am dying
for my tea!” On a voyage to Alaska, where tea was served on deck
every afternoon, at precisely the same moment an elderly British
lady appeared from below with precisely the same exclamation: “Oh,
is there tea going?” And on her face was a holy look.
Alfred Noyes told me that during the war, when he was writing up
important incidents for the benefit of the public, he was assigned to
interview the sailors immediately after the tremendous naval battle of
Jutland. He found a bluejacket who had been sent aloft and kept
there during the fearful engagement, when shells weighing half a ton
came hurtling through the air and when ships blew up around him.
Thinking he would get a marvellous “story” out of this sailor, Mr.
Noyes asked him to describe his sensations during those frightful
hours. All the man said was, “Well, of course, I had to miss my tea!”
XVI
THE WEATHER
Nearly all the great poetry of the world, ancient and modern, has
been written in Europe. This fact should never be forgotten in
reading literature that alludes to the weather. The reason every one
talks about the weather is not that the average person has nothing
else to say; it is that the weather is usually the most interesting topic
available. It is the first thing we think of in the hour of waking; it
affects our plans, projects and temperament.
When I was a little boy at school there was a song sung in
unison called “Hail, Autumn, Jovial Fellow!” It seemed to me to
express correctly the true character of autumn. It was not until I had
reached maturity in years that I discovered that the song, as judged
by the world’s most famous writers, was a misfit. Instead of autumn’s
being jovial, it was dull, damp, dark, depressing. To be sure, I never
really felt that way about it; the evidence of my eyes was in favour of
the school song, but, as the great poets had given autumn a bad
reputation, I supposed in some way she must have earned it.
Still later I learned that Goethe was right when he said that in
order to understand a poet you must personally visit the country
where he wrote. Literary geography is seldom taught or seriously
considered, but it is impossible to read famous authors intelligently
without knowing their climatic and geographical environment. So
keenly did I come to feel about this that I finally prepared a
cardboard map of England, marking only the literary places, and I
required my students to become familiar with it. One of them
subsequently wrote me a magnificent testimonial, which I have often
considered printing on the margin of the map.
Dear Mr. Phelps—I have been bicycling all over England this
summer, and have found your Literary Map immensely useful. I
have carried it inside my shirt, and I think on several occasions it
has saved me from an attack of pneumonia.
F. P. A., in his excellent Conning Tower in the New York World for
the Ides of March, pays a fine tribute to E. W. Howe and his
paragraphs long ago in the Atchison Globe. He says: “There were
two paragraphs that appeared just about the time we began reading
the Globe, which we are willing to bet were written by Ed himself. He
was less oracular in those days. They were something like the
following: