AP Language and Composition Mock Exam 1 with
complete solution
𝗕𝗥𝗢𝗪𝗡
(𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 2016.)
When I was younger, I used to have the same recurring daydream in gym class.
If we were playing softball, I would dream I hit the ball and sprinted to home plate
because I deserve to be there, not because my classmates let me slide—like the puck
that glided past the goalie and into the net. I won the game, and everything faded away
as a single tear rolled down my cheek—the way athletes cry after a championship win in
the movies.
Me, midrun, a smile on my face, because I couldn't believe I was quickly moving.
I have a milder form of cerebral palsy. I walk with a limp. I had given up on the idea of
running after surgeries on the right side of my body left me too afraid to relearn how to
run.
These reveries left me waiting for a "special talent," which I assumed all disabled kids
had, to make up for their disability.
I'm a terrible singer, so I figured I'd find a hidden gift in a sport we played in physical
education class.
I never did, and I yearn for representation of people of color with disabilities in sports.
So until the work that disabled black women do is recognized, I will continue to
champion and celebrate the able-bodied black women.
I cried when I learned that Misty Copeland would be American Ballet's first black female
principal dancer. My weeping was not because I had dreams of being a ballet dancer—
although I would twirl from the kitchen table to the fridge in my socks, convinced I could
pirouette with the best of ballerinas.
I was emotional because ballet, at its core, is both raw and feminine, two things that
black women are often not allowed to be.
Then come gymnasts Gabby Douglas, Simone Biles and Laurie Hernandez. Not only
did they help secure a team gold medal, but Biles is the new Olympic all-around
champion and is leaving Rio with five medals.
, At 24, I'm older than they are, but I feel a sense of pride when I see them swinging on
uneven bars or sticking dismounts on vaults.
I hold my breath with them as they await their scores and cheer when I feel they
received the ones they deserved.
The Olympics are the ultimate dream.
Our bodies are in no way identical, and we are on opposite ends of the spectrum.
Though I've been told that the way my smile spreads across my face during moments of
triumph is similar to Gabby's and Simone's happy grins.
They all have dealt with criticism, from some people saying Gabby isn't patriotic, to a
dance instructor telling a 13-year-old Copeland she was too old to be a ballerina.
I haven't had the same amount of vitriol thrown at me, but I was told by a teacher in high
school that I would never make it as a successful journalist. I've had my writing abilities
questioned and racist comments sent to me frequently online. Like them, I feel I have
persevered.
For Lena Dunham and Jenni Konner's Lenny Letter,3 I wrote about one of my biggest
triumphs so far, putting my hair up into a ponytail, unassisted. This might not be a
medaling event at the Olympics, but it made me feel as proud and as wonderful as I
imagine Misty, Laurie, Gabby and Simone feel with each of their completed goals.
There is an expectation for black women in sports to be better than the best, show no
emotion and maintain a level of superhuman strength.
When Copeland steps out on the stage next month at the Opera de Paris to star in "The
Sleeping Beauty," I hope she reminds herself of all the work she's put in to get there.
Simply seeing all of these women succeed in their fields is something akin to witnessing
a miracle that isn't really a miracle but rather a result of fate putting the world in the right
order.
Representation matters, and even as I live in a disabled body that was never lucky
enough to be good at any sport, when I see these women in commercials and on TV
screens, I am reminded of all of the things I can achieve with hard work and talent.
These athletes prove that every black body is beautiful, even the ones that don't look
like theirs.
© ESPN. Reprinted courtesy of ESPN.com
𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞?
complete solution
𝗕𝗥𝗢𝗪𝗡
(𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 2016.)
When I was younger, I used to have the same recurring daydream in gym class.
If we were playing softball, I would dream I hit the ball and sprinted to home plate
because I deserve to be there, not because my classmates let me slide—like the puck
that glided past the goalie and into the net. I won the game, and everything faded away
as a single tear rolled down my cheek—the way athletes cry after a championship win in
the movies.
Me, midrun, a smile on my face, because I couldn't believe I was quickly moving.
I have a milder form of cerebral palsy. I walk with a limp. I had given up on the idea of
running after surgeries on the right side of my body left me too afraid to relearn how to
run.
These reveries left me waiting for a "special talent," which I assumed all disabled kids
had, to make up for their disability.
I'm a terrible singer, so I figured I'd find a hidden gift in a sport we played in physical
education class.
I never did, and I yearn for representation of people of color with disabilities in sports.
So until the work that disabled black women do is recognized, I will continue to
champion and celebrate the able-bodied black women.
I cried when I learned that Misty Copeland would be American Ballet's first black female
principal dancer. My weeping was not because I had dreams of being a ballet dancer—
although I would twirl from the kitchen table to the fridge in my socks, convinced I could
pirouette with the best of ballerinas.
I was emotional because ballet, at its core, is both raw and feminine, two things that
black women are often not allowed to be.
Then come gymnasts Gabby Douglas, Simone Biles and Laurie Hernandez. Not only
did they help secure a team gold medal, but Biles is the new Olympic all-around
champion and is leaving Rio with five medals.
, At 24, I'm older than they are, but I feel a sense of pride when I see them swinging on
uneven bars or sticking dismounts on vaults.
I hold my breath with them as they await their scores and cheer when I feel they
received the ones they deserved.
The Olympics are the ultimate dream.
Our bodies are in no way identical, and we are on opposite ends of the spectrum.
Though I've been told that the way my smile spreads across my face during moments of
triumph is similar to Gabby's and Simone's happy grins.
They all have dealt with criticism, from some people saying Gabby isn't patriotic, to a
dance instructor telling a 13-year-old Copeland she was too old to be a ballerina.
I haven't had the same amount of vitriol thrown at me, but I was told by a teacher in high
school that I would never make it as a successful journalist. I've had my writing abilities
questioned and racist comments sent to me frequently online. Like them, I feel I have
persevered.
For Lena Dunham and Jenni Konner's Lenny Letter,3 I wrote about one of my biggest
triumphs so far, putting my hair up into a ponytail, unassisted. This might not be a
medaling event at the Olympics, but it made me feel as proud and as wonderful as I
imagine Misty, Laurie, Gabby and Simone feel with each of their completed goals.
There is an expectation for black women in sports to be better than the best, show no
emotion and maintain a level of superhuman strength.
When Copeland steps out on the stage next month at the Opera de Paris to star in "The
Sleeping Beauty," I hope she reminds herself of all the work she's put in to get there.
Simply seeing all of these women succeed in their fields is something akin to witnessing
a miracle that isn't really a miracle but rather a result of fate putting the world in the right
order.
Representation matters, and even as I live in a disabled body that was never lucky
enough to be good at any sport, when I see these women in commercials and on TV
screens, I am reminded of all of the things I can achieve with hard work and talent.
These athletes prove that every black body is beautiful, even the ones that don't look
like theirs.
© ESPN. Reprinted courtesy of ESPN.com
𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞?
