TELPAS reading practice questions for 10th, 11th and 12th grade

The letter from the university had been sitting on the kitchen table for three days, propped against the salt shaker where nobody could miss it. Lucía Garza had read it so many times that she could recite the second paragraph: she had been selected for a four-week summer engineering program in Austin, with housing and meals provided. The program began on June 2.

June was also the start of watermelon season, the busiest weeks of the year at her family's fruit stand outside Mission. Since her older brother had moved to Dallas, Lucía was the one who opened the stand at seven, counted the cash drawer, and argued with the produce supplier in two languages whenever he tried to deliver soft melons.

She had not mentioned the letter to her father. Neither had he, although she had seen him pick it up once, hold it at arm's length the way he did without his glasses, and set it back exactly where it had been.

On Saturday they worked the stand together. Business was slow in the heat of the afternoon, and her father spent most of it on a ladder, scraping the faded paint off the wooden sign that faced the highway. Lucía watched him from under the awning. The sign had said GARZA FRUIT & VEGETABLES for as long as she could remember, though by now the R in FRUIT had nearly disappeared.

"You're going to fall off that thing," she called.

"Then you'll have to run the stand by yourself," he said, without looking down. "You already know how."

She did not answer. That was exactly the problem. She knew how, and if she went to Austin, no one else would.

By evening he had painted the whole board white. He climbed down, wiped his hands on a rag, and asked her to hold the ladder steady while he lettered. She expected the same words in the same red paint. Instead he opened a small can of blue and, working slowly, painted GARZA & DAUGHTER.

Lucía stared at it. "Dad, people are going to think it's a different business."

"It's the same business," he said. "It just has a better owner coming." He handed her the brush. "Your cousin Beto needs a summer job. I already asked him. He's slower than you, but he can learn to count a drawer in four weeks." He paused. "Engineers have to build things that keep working when they're not standing next to them. Isn't that the whole idea?"

She laughed, though her eyes stung, and climbed two steps up the ladder to fix the tail of the G, where the paint had dripped.

The next morning the letter was gone from the kitchen table. She found it in an envelope by the front door, already stamped, with the reply card on top. Her father had filled in the parent's signature line in his careful, slow handwriting.

Many people picture underground water as a hidden lake. In most places, that picture is wrong. Groundwater is usually stored in the tiny spaces between grains of sand or in cracks and holes inside rock. A layer of rock or sediment that holds water and lets it move through is called an aquifer, and one of the most important aquifers in Texas lies under the central part of the state: the Edwards Aquifer.

The Edwards Aquifer is made mostly of limestone. Limestone slowly dissolves in water that is slightly acidic, and rainwater becomes slightly acidic as it picks up carbon dioxide from the air and the soil. Over a very long time, this water has widened cracks in the limestone into channels and caves. The result is rock full of openings, a little like a hard sponge. Geologists call a landscape shaped this way karst.

Water enters the aquifer in an area called the recharge zone, where the limestone is exposed at or near the surface. When it rains there, water flowing in creeks can disappear into cracks and sinkholes in the creek bed and drain down into the rock. Farther to the south and east, the limestone is buried beneath layers of rock that water cannot pass through easily, so the water below is trapped and held under pressure.

That pressure has two important effects. First, in some places it pushes water up out of the ground on its own, forming springs. Comal Springs in New Braunfels and San Marcos Springs in San Marcos are both fed by the Edwards Aquifer, and they supply the clear, cool water of the Comal and San Marcos Rivers. Second, it makes the aquifer a reliable source of water for wells. The Edwards Aquifer is the main source of drinking water for San Antonio, and farms, businesses, and many smaller towns depend on it too.

Because water moves quickly through karst, the aquifer can refill fast after heavy rain. The same feature makes it vulnerable. During a long drought, pumping can lower the water level faster than rain replaces it, and the flow from the springs drops. Pollution is another concern: a chemical spilled in the recharge zone can reach the water supply with little natural filtering along the way.

The springs and underground waters are also home to several species found nowhere else on Earth. One of them, the Texas blind salamander, spends its life in dark underground water and has only tiny, undeveloped eyes. Several of these species are listed as endangered, so managing the aquifer means balancing the needs of a growing population with the survival of these animals. In 1993, the Texas Legislature created the Edwards Aquifer Authority to regulate how much water is pumped from the aquifer.

On January 1, 1863, in the middle of the Civil War, President Abraham Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation took effect. It declared that enslaved people in the states fighting against the Union were free. But a proclamation is only words on paper unless someone can enforce it, and the Union army could enforce it only in places it controlled.

Texas was far from most of the fighting, and Union troops held very little of it. Some slaveholders from other Southern states even moved the people they enslaved to Texas to keep them away from the advancing Union army. For more than two years after the Proclamation, slavery continued in Texas much as before.

The main Confederate army surrendered in April 1865, but news and soldiers moved slowly. On June 19, 1865, Union General Gordon Granger arrived in Galveston and issued General Order No. 3. It announced that, in keeping with the Proclamation, all enslaved people in Texas were free. Even then, freedom did not arrive everywhere at once. Some enslavers delayed telling the people they held, and some waited until the harvest was finished.

Formerly enslaved Texans began celebrating June 19 the following year. They gathered for prayer, food, music, and readings of the order. In some places, Black communities raised money to buy land where they could hold the celebration freely. Emancipation Park in Houston began this way. The day became known as Juneteenth, a blend of "June" and "nineteenth."

Slavery did not end everywhere in the United States in 1865 because of a Texas order. That happened when the Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution was ratified in December 1865. But Juneteenth became the date that many Americans chose to remember the end of slavery. In 1980, Texas became the first state to make Juneteenth an official state holiday. In 2021, it became a federal holiday, celebrated across the country.

Today, Juneteenth celebrations include parades, family reunions, and community events. For many families, it is also a day to remember that freedom, once declared, still had to be carried, announced, and defended before it became real.

Imagine a friend gives you a free ticket to a concert on Saturday night. It seems as if the evening will cost you nothing. An economist would disagree. The ticket is free, but your Saturday night is not.

The reason is scarcity. Time, money, and energy are all limited, so choosing one thing always means giving up something else. Economists call the value of the best option you give up the opportunity cost of a choice. If you would otherwise have worked a five-hour shift and earned sixty dollars, the opportunity cost of the free concert is at least those sixty dollars. If you would have spent the night studying for a chemistry test, the cost might be a better grade.

Opportunity cost explains decisions that seem strange at first. Why might a skilled carpenter pay someone else to paint her house, even if she paints faster? Because every hour she spends painting is an hour she could have spent on carpentry jobs that pay more. Hiring a painter is not laziness; it is a way to avoid an expensive trade-off.

The idea also applies to big decisions, such as whether to go to college. The obvious costs are tuition, books, and fees. A less obvious cost is the wages a student does not earn while attending classes full-time. Economists include those lost wages because they are a real part of what the student gives up. Many studies have found that, on average, people with college degrees earn more over their lifetimes, which is why many people decide the trade is worth it. But looking at the opportunity cost helps a student compare options honestly, such as a two-year technical program, a four-year degree, or working while studying part-time.

None of this means people should calculate the dollar value of every hour. Some of the most important parts of a choice, like time with family or the satisfaction of learning, are hard to measure in money. The point is simply to ask a better question. Instead of asking "How much does this cost?" an economist asks "What am I giving up to get it?"

So go to the concert, if you want to. Just recognize that it was never completely free.

Nadia Haddad had joined the mock trial team for one reason: the club met in Ms. Delgado's room, which had the only working air conditioner on the second floor. For two months she had happily played a witness, a nervous bakery owner who had seen a car accident through her shop window. Witnesses only had to remember their story. They did not have to stand up and persuade anyone.

Then, on the Thursday before the regional competition, Gabriel Ochoa broke his wrist at soccer practice, and his mother decided he would not travel. Gabriel was supposed to give the closing argument.

"You know the case better than anyone except Gabriel," Ms. Delgado told her. "You've been sitting through every practice."

"Sitting," Nadia said. "Not talking."

"Well," said Ms. Delgado, "this is the deep end. I'm sorry we have to throw you in."

Nadia spent Friday night at the kitchen table with Gabriel's notes, which were written in handwriting so tiny that she had to zoom in with her phone's camera to read them. She practiced in front of her younger brother, who fell asleep, and then in front of the bathroom mirror until her mother knocked and asked who she was talking to.

On Saturday, the other team's closing argument came first. Their attorney was a tall senior who never looked at his notes and who walked back and forth in front of the jury as if he owned the room. When he sat down, Nadia's hands were cold. She looked at Gabriel's notes and could not read a single word.

So she turned them face down. She thought about the bakery owner, the witness she had played all fall, and about what that woman had actually seen: a blue car, a wet road, a driver looking down at his phone. Nadia did not walk back and forth. She stood still, rested her fingers on the edge of the table, and told the jury the story in order, slowly, the way she would explain it to her brother if he were awake.

Her team did not win the competition. They came in third. But on the bus home, Ms. Delgado sat down beside her and showed her a score sheet. One judge had written in the margin next to the closing argument: Calm, clear, and believable. Hard to argue with.

Nadia read it twice. Then she took out a pen and, under the judge's comment, wrote three things she would do differently next time.

By Valeria Ríos, senior

Every school day, I set an alarm for 5:50 a.m. so I can catch a bus at 6:35 for a first period that starts at 7:25. Many of my classmates do the same. By second period, half of us are struggling to stay awake. Our district should move the high school start time to 8:30 a.m. or later.

This is not just about teenagers wanting to sleep in. During the teenage years, the body's internal clock shifts later. Most teenagers do not feel sleepy until around 11 p.m. or later, even if they go to bed early. Sleep experts recommend that teenagers get eight to ten hours of sleep a night. A student who falls asleep at 11 and wakes up at 5:50 gets less than seven.

Doctors have noticed the problem too. In 2014, the American Academy of Pediatrics recommended that middle and high schools start no earlier than 8:30 a.m. Tired students have a harder time paying attention, remembering what they learned, and controlling their moods. Teen drivers who are short on sleep are also more likely to have accidents, and many of us drive ourselves to school.

Some people argue that a later start would cause problems for after-school sports and jobs. That is a fair concern. Practices would end later, and some students work evening shifts to help their families. But schools that have changed their schedules have found ways to adjust, for example by moving some practices to the morning or the weekend. A schedule that works for the bus system but not for the students it carries is not working.

Others say teenagers should simply go to bed earlier. I have tried. Lying in the dark at 9:30 does not make my body tired, any more than a younger child could fall asleep at 6 p.m. on command. Telling us to try harder does not change our biology.

The school board will discuss next year's calendar at its meeting on March 4. I urge students and parents to attend and speak in favor of a later start. We are asking for a schedule that lets us arrive ready to learn, not one that rewards whoever can survive on the least sleep.

When people think about education after high school, they often picture a college campus. But for many careers, some of the most valuable training happens on a job site. An apprenticeship is a program in which a person learns a skilled trade by working alongside experienced workers while also taking classes. Electricians, plumbers, welders, and heating and air-conditioning technicians often begin their careers this way.

The biggest difference between an apprenticeship and most other kinds of schooling is that apprentices are paid. They are employees, not just students. An apprentice electrician, for example, might spend the day helping to wire a new building and then attend evening classes on electrical codes and safety. As apprentices gain skills, their pay usually goes up step by step.

Apprenticeships are not quick. Many last several years, and they require the same kind of commitment as a college program. Apprentices must show up on time, follow strict safety rules, and pass tests before they move to the next level. The work can be physically demanding, and it often happens outdoors, including during a Texas summer.

In the United States, programs that meet federal standards are called Registered Apprenticeships. When an apprentice completes one, they receive a certificate that is recognized across the country. That means a worker who finishes an apprenticeship in Houston can show the same certificate to an employer in another state.

Some high schools now offer pre-apprenticeship programs that let students start learning a trade before they graduate. These programs can include safety training, basic math for construction, and visits to job sites. They do not replace a full apprenticeship, but they can help students find out whether a trade is a good fit before they commit years to it.

An apprenticeship is not the right path for everyone. But for students who like working with their hands, solving practical problems, and earning while they learn, it is worth serious consideration.

The city had promised for years to repair the drainage ditch behind Fairview Street. Not until the third flood in two years filled their garages with water did residents finally see a crew arrive with equipment.

The Fourth Street bridge was designed in the 1950s to carry mostly passenger cars. ______, it now carries hundreds of heavy delivery trucks every day, which is one reason engineers say it needs to be replaced.