Examen de práctica de Lenguaje (RLA) del GED 4

To: All Field Crews and Crew Leaders From: Dana Ruiz, Safety Coordinator, Brightway Landscaping Date: May 15 Subject: New Heat Safety Plan starts June 1

(1) Last July, two members of our East Side crew became sick while installing a stone patio on a 96-degree afternoon. One recovered after resting in the truck's air conditioning. The other collapsed, was taken to the hospital by ambulance and missed three weeks of work. Both had been drinking soda instead of water, and neither had taken a break since lunch. We never want to see that happen again. Starting June 1, every Brightway crew will follow the Heat Safety Plan described below.

(2) Water. Every truck will carry a 10-gallon cooler of cold water and a supply of paper cups. Crew leaders will refill coolers at the shop each morning and at the noon stop. Drink about one cup of water every 15 to 20 minutes, even if you do not feel thirsty. By the time you feel thirsty, your body is already losing more water than it is taking in. Energy drinks and soda do not count toward your water.

(3) Rest and shade. Each crew leader will check the heat index on the weather app at 7:00 a.m. and again at noon. The heat index combines temperature and humidity to show how hot it actually feels. When the heat index reaches 90°F, the crew will take a 10-minute break in the shade every hour. When it reaches 100°F, breaks increase to 15 minutes every hour, and the heaviest jobs, such as hauling stone, laying sod and mowing steep slopes, must be scheduled before 11:00 a.m. Every truck now carries a pop-up canopy for job sites without natural shade. All rest breaks are paid.

(4) New and returning workers. A worker's body needs time to adjust to working in the heat. During this period, which usually lasts one to two weeks, the body learns to sweat sooner and to cool itself more efficiently. For this reason, new employees and anyone returning from a week or more away will work no more than half of a normal day in the heat during their first two days. They will build up to a full schedule by the end of their first week. Most serious heat illnesses happen in a worker's first few days on the job.

(5) The buddy system. Heat illness can affect a person's thinking, so workers often do not notice their own symptoms. Each morning, crew leaders will pair every worker with a buddy. Buddies check on each other at every break and watch for warning signs.

(6) Know the signs. Heat exhaustion causes heavy sweating, headache, dizziness, weakness and nausea. A worker with these signs should stop working, move to the shade or an air-conditioned truck, drink water and be watched closely. Heat stroke is a medical emergency. Its signs include confusion, slurred speech, fainting and hot skin. If you see any sign of heat stroke, call 911 immediately, then cool the worker with cold water and wet towels while you wait for help.

(7) Speaking up. Crew leaders have the authority to suspend work when conditions become unsafe, and no customer deadline is more important than a worker's health. No one will be disciplined for taking a break, asking for water or reporting symptoms in a coworker. In the past, some of you have told us you felt pressure to "push through" the heat to finish a job on time. Under this plan, pushing through is not the goal. Finishing the season healthy is.

(8) Crew leaders will review the plan with their crews during a five-minute "heat huddle" every morning in June. If you have questions, call me at the shop at extension 14.

To: All Field Crews and Crew Leaders From: Dana Ruiz, Safety Coordinator, Brightway Landscaping Date: May 15 Subject: New Heat Safety Plan starts June 1

(1) Last July, two members of our East Side crew became sick while installing a stone patio on a 96-degree afternoon. One recovered after resting in the truck's air conditioning. The other collapsed, was taken to the hospital by ambulance and missed three weeks of work. Both had been drinking soda instead of water, and neither had taken a break since lunch. We never want to see that happen again. Starting June 1, every Brightway crew will follow the Heat Safety Plan described below.

(2) Water. Every truck will carry a 10-gallon cooler of cold water and a supply of paper cups. Crew leaders will refill coolers at the shop each morning and at the noon stop. Drink about one cup of water every 15 to 20 minutes, even if you do not feel thirsty. By the time you feel thirsty, your body is already losing more water than it is taking in. Energy drinks and soda do not count toward your water.

(3) Rest and shade. Each crew leader will check the heat index on the weather app at 7:00 a.m. and again at noon. The heat index combines temperature and humidity to show how hot it actually feels. When the heat index reaches 90°F, the crew will take a 10-minute break in the shade every hour. When it reaches 100°F, breaks increase to 15 minutes every hour, and the heaviest jobs, such as hauling stone, laying sod and mowing steep slopes, must be scheduled before 11:00 a.m. Every truck now carries a pop-up canopy for job sites without natural shade. All rest breaks are paid.

(4) New and returning workers. A worker's body needs time to adjust to working in the heat. During this period, which usually lasts one to two weeks, the body learns to sweat sooner and to cool itself more efficiently. For this reason, new employees and anyone returning from a week or more away will work no more than half of a normal day in the heat during their first two days. They will build up to a full schedule by the end of their first week. Most serious heat illnesses happen in a worker's first few days on the job.

(5) The buddy system. Heat illness can affect a person's thinking, so workers often do not notice their own symptoms. Each morning, crew leaders will pair every worker with a buddy. Buddies check on each other at every break and watch for warning signs.

(6) Know the signs. Heat exhaustion causes heavy sweating, headache, dizziness, weakness and nausea. A worker with these signs should stop working, move to the shade or an air-conditioned truck, drink water and be watched closely. Heat stroke is a medical emergency. Its signs include confusion, slurred speech, fainting and hot skin. If you see any sign of heat stroke, call 911 immediately, then cool the worker with cold water and wet towels while you wait for help.

(7) Speaking up. Crew leaders have the authority to suspend work when conditions become unsafe, and no customer deadline is more important than a worker's health. No one will be disciplined for taking a break, asking for water or reporting symptoms in a coworker. In the past, some of you have told us you felt pressure to "push through" the heat to finish a job on time. Under this plan, pushing through is not the goal. Finishing the season healthy is.

(8) Crew leaders will review the plan with their crews during a five-minute "heat huddle" every morning in June. If you have questions, call me at the shop at extension 14.

To: All Field Crews and Crew Leaders From: Dana Ruiz, Safety Coordinator, Brightway Landscaping Date: May 15 Subject: New Heat Safety Plan starts June 1

(1) Last July, two members of our East Side crew became sick while installing a stone patio on a 96-degree afternoon. One recovered after resting in the truck's air conditioning. The other collapsed, was taken to the hospital by ambulance and missed three weeks of work. Both had been drinking soda instead of water, and neither had taken a break since lunch. We never want to see that happen again. Starting June 1, every Brightway crew will follow the Heat Safety Plan described below.

(2) Water. Every truck will carry a 10-gallon cooler of cold water and a supply of paper cups. Crew leaders will refill coolers at the shop each morning and at the noon stop. Drink about one cup of water every 15 to 20 minutes, even if you do not feel thirsty. By the time you feel thirsty, your body is already losing more water than it is taking in. Energy drinks and soda do not count toward your water.

(3) Rest and shade. Each crew leader will check the heat index on the weather app at 7:00 a.m. and again at noon. The heat index combines temperature and humidity to show how hot it actually feels. When the heat index reaches 90°F, the crew will take a 10-minute break in the shade every hour. When it reaches 100°F, breaks increase to 15 minutes every hour, and the heaviest jobs, such as hauling stone, laying sod and mowing steep slopes, must be scheduled before 11:00 a.m. Every truck now carries a pop-up canopy for job sites without natural shade. All rest breaks are paid.

(4) New and returning workers. A worker's body needs time to adjust to working in the heat. During this period, which usually lasts one to two weeks, the body learns to sweat sooner and to cool itself more efficiently. For this reason, new employees and anyone returning from a week or more away will work no more than half of a normal day in the heat during their first two days. They will build up to a full schedule by the end of their first week. Most serious heat illnesses happen in a worker's first few days on the job.

(5) The buddy system. Heat illness can affect a person's thinking, so workers often do not notice their own symptoms. Each morning, crew leaders will pair every worker with a buddy. Buddies check on each other at every break and watch for warning signs.

(6) Know the signs. Heat exhaustion causes heavy sweating, headache, dizziness, weakness and nausea. A worker with these signs should stop working, move to the shade or an air-conditioned truck, drink water and be watched closely. Heat stroke is a medical emergency. Its signs include confusion, slurred speech, fainting and hot skin. If you see any sign of heat stroke, call 911 immediately, then cool the worker with cold water and wet towels while you wait for help.

(7) Speaking up. Crew leaders have the authority to suspend work when conditions become unsafe, and no customer deadline is more important than a worker's health. No one will be disciplined for taking a break, asking for water or reporting symptoms in a coworker. In the past, some of you have told us you felt pressure to "push through" the heat to finish a job on time. Under this plan, pushing through is not the goal. Finishing the season healthy is.

(8) Crew leaders will review the plan with their crews during a five-minute "heat huddle" every morning in June. If you have questions, call me at the shop at extension 14.

To: All Field Crews and Crew Leaders From: Dana Ruiz, Safety Coordinator, Brightway Landscaping Date: May 15 Subject: New Heat Safety Plan starts June 1

(1) Last July, two members of our East Side crew became sick while installing a stone patio on a 96-degree afternoon. One recovered after resting in the truck's air conditioning. The other collapsed, was taken to the hospital by ambulance and missed three weeks of work. Both had been drinking soda instead of water, and neither had taken a break since lunch. We never want to see that happen again. Starting June 1, every Brightway crew will follow the Heat Safety Plan described below.

(2) Water. Every truck will carry a 10-gallon cooler of cold water and a supply of paper cups. Crew leaders will refill coolers at the shop each morning and at the noon stop. Drink about one cup of water every 15 to 20 minutes, even if you do not feel thirsty. By the time you feel thirsty, your body is already losing more water than it is taking in. Energy drinks and soda do not count toward your water.

(3) Rest and shade. Each crew leader will check the heat index on the weather app at 7:00 a.m. and again at noon. The heat index combines temperature and humidity to show how hot it actually feels. When the heat index reaches 90°F, the crew will take a 10-minute break in the shade every hour. When it reaches 100°F, breaks increase to 15 minutes every hour, and the heaviest jobs, such as hauling stone, laying sod and mowing steep slopes, must be scheduled before 11:00 a.m. Every truck now carries a pop-up canopy for job sites without natural shade. All rest breaks are paid.

(4) New and returning workers. A worker's body needs time to adjust to working in the heat. During this period, which usually lasts one to two weeks, the body learns to sweat sooner and to cool itself more efficiently. For this reason, new employees and anyone returning from a week or more away will work no more than half of a normal day in the heat during their first two days. They will build up to a full schedule by the end of their first week. Most serious heat illnesses happen in a worker's first few days on the job.

(5) The buddy system. Heat illness can affect a person's thinking, so workers often do not notice their own symptoms. Each morning, crew leaders will pair every worker with a buddy. Buddies check on each other at every break and watch for warning signs.

(6) Know the signs. Heat exhaustion causes heavy sweating, headache, dizziness, weakness and nausea. A worker with these signs should stop working, move to the shade or an air-conditioned truck, drink water and be watched closely. Heat stroke is a medical emergency. Its signs include confusion, slurred speech, fainting and hot skin. If you see any sign of heat stroke, call 911 immediately, then cool the worker with cold water and wet towels while you wait for help.

(7) Speaking up. Crew leaders have the authority to suspend work when conditions become unsafe, and no customer deadline is more important than a worker's health. No one will be disciplined for taking a break, asking for water or reporting symptoms in a coworker. In the past, some of you have told us you felt pressure to "push through" the heat to finish a job on time. Under this plan, pushing through is not the goal. Finishing the season healthy is.

(8) Crew leaders will review the plan with their crews during a five-minute "heat huddle" every morning in June. If you have questions, call me at the shop at extension 14.

To: All Field Crews and Crew Leaders From: Dana Ruiz, Safety Coordinator, Brightway Landscaping Date: May 15 Subject: New Heat Safety Plan starts June 1

(1) Last July, two members of our East Side crew became sick while installing a stone patio on a 96-degree afternoon. One recovered after resting in the truck's air conditioning. The other collapsed, was taken to the hospital by ambulance and missed three weeks of work. Both had been drinking soda instead of water, and neither had taken a break since lunch. We never want to see that happen again. Starting June 1, every Brightway crew will follow the Heat Safety Plan described below.

(2) Water. Every truck will carry a 10-gallon cooler of cold water and a supply of paper cups. Crew leaders will refill coolers at the shop each morning and at the noon stop. Drink about one cup of water every 15 to 20 minutes, even if you do not feel thirsty. By the time you feel thirsty, your body is already losing more water than it is taking in. Energy drinks and soda do not count toward your water.

(3) Rest and shade. Each crew leader will check the heat index on the weather app at 7:00 a.m. and again at noon. The heat index combines temperature and humidity to show how hot it actually feels. When the heat index reaches 90°F, the crew will take a 10-minute break in the shade every hour. When it reaches 100°F, breaks increase to 15 minutes every hour, and the heaviest jobs, such as hauling stone, laying sod and mowing steep slopes, must be scheduled before 11:00 a.m. Every truck now carries a pop-up canopy for job sites without natural shade. All rest breaks are paid.

(4) New and returning workers. A worker's body needs time to adjust to working in the heat. During this period, which usually lasts one to two weeks, the body learns to sweat sooner and to cool itself more efficiently. For this reason, new employees and anyone returning from a week or more away will work no more than half of a normal day in the heat during their first two days. They will build up to a full schedule by the end of their first week. Most serious heat illnesses happen in a worker's first few days on the job.

(5) The buddy system. Heat illness can affect a person's thinking, so workers often do not notice their own symptoms. Each morning, crew leaders will pair every worker with a buddy. Buddies check on each other at every break and watch for warning signs.

(6) Know the signs. Heat exhaustion causes heavy sweating, headache, dizziness, weakness and nausea. A worker with these signs should stop working, move to the shade or an air-conditioned truck, drink water and be watched closely. Heat stroke is a medical emergency. Its signs include confusion, slurred speech, fainting and hot skin. If you see any sign of heat stroke, call 911 immediately, then cool the worker with cold water and wet towels while you wait for help.

(7) Speaking up. Crew leaders have the authority to suspend work when conditions become unsafe, and no customer deadline is more important than a worker's health. No one will be disciplined for taking a break, asking for water or reporting symptoms in a coworker. In the past, some of you have told us you felt pressure to "push through" the heat to finish a job on time. Under this plan, pushing through is not the goal. Finishing the season healthy is.

(8) Crew leaders will review the plan with their crews during a five-minute "heat huddle" every morning in June. If you have questions, call me at the shop at extension 14.

To: All Field Crews and Crew Leaders From: Dana Ruiz, Safety Coordinator, Brightway Landscaping Date: May 15 Subject: New Heat Safety Plan starts June 1

(1) Last July, two members of our East Side crew became sick while installing a stone patio on a 96-degree afternoon. One recovered after resting in the truck's air conditioning. The other collapsed, was taken to the hospital by ambulance and missed three weeks of work. Both had been drinking soda instead of water, and neither had taken a break since lunch. We never want to see that happen again. Starting June 1, every Brightway crew will follow the Heat Safety Plan described below.

(2) Water. Every truck will carry a 10-gallon cooler of cold water and a supply of paper cups. Crew leaders will refill coolers at the shop each morning and at the noon stop. Drink about one cup of water every 15 to 20 minutes, even if you do not feel thirsty. By the time you feel thirsty, your body is already losing more water than it is taking in. Energy drinks and soda do not count toward your water.

(3) Rest and shade. Each crew leader will check the heat index on the weather app at 7:00 a.m. and again at noon. The heat index combines temperature and humidity to show how hot it actually feels. When the heat index reaches 90°F, the crew will take a 10-minute break in the shade every hour. When it reaches 100°F, breaks increase to 15 minutes every hour, and the heaviest jobs, such as hauling stone, laying sod and mowing steep slopes, must be scheduled before 11:00 a.m. Every truck now carries a pop-up canopy for job sites without natural shade. All rest breaks are paid.

(4) New and returning workers. A worker's body needs time to adjust to working in the heat. During this period, which usually lasts one to two weeks, the body learns to sweat sooner and to cool itself more efficiently. For this reason, new employees and anyone returning from a week or more away will work no more than half of a normal day in the heat during their first two days. They will build up to a full schedule by the end of their first week. Most serious heat illnesses happen in a worker's first few days on the job.

(5) The buddy system. Heat illness can affect a person's thinking, so workers often do not notice their own symptoms. Each morning, crew leaders will pair every worker with a buddy. Buddies check on each other at every break and watch for warning signs.

(6) Know the signs. Heat exhaustion causes heavy sweating, headache, dizziness, weakness and nausea. A worker with these signs should stop working, move to the shade or an air-conditioned truck, drink water and be watched closely. Heat stroke is a medical emergency. Its signs include confusion, slurred speech, fainting and hot skin. If you see any sign of heat stroke, call 911 immediately, then cool the worker with cold water and wet towels while you wait for help.

(7) Speaking up. Crew leaders have the authority to suspend work when conditions become unsafe, and no customer deadline is more important than a worker's health. No one will be disciplined for taking a break, asking for water or reporting symptoms in a coworker. In the past, some of you have told us you felt pressure to "push through" the heat to finish a job on time. Under this plan, pushing through is not the goal. Finishing the season healthy is.

(8) Crew leaders will review the plan with their crews during a five-minute "heat huddle" every morning in June. If you have questions, call me at the shop at extension 14.

(1) On Sunday nights the Suds-N-Go was nearly empty, which was why Renata liked it. She set the laundry basket on the folding table and poured the quarters from the coffee can into her palm. She counted them twice, the way her mother used to count the bills for rent. Fourteen quarters. Eight for the washer, six for the dryer. Exactly enough.

(2) "Can I have one for the claw machine?" Theo asked. He was ten, and he had already pressed his nose to the glass box by the door, where a heap of stuffed animals lay waiting like a crowd of tired passengers.

(3) "Not tonight, baby. These are spoken for."

(4) Theo sighed the sigh of a boy who had heard that sentence before. He wandered off down the row of machines while Renata loaded the washer, measured the soap into the cap and fed in the quarters one by one. Each one dropped with a small, final click.

(5) The only other customer was an old man in a gray cardigan, sitting very straight in one of the plastic chairs with a newspaper folded on his knee. Renata had seen him before. He always nodded to her, and she always nodded back, and that was the whole of their friendship.

(6) Halfway through the wash cycle, Theo came running back with his fist closed tight. "Mom. Look." He opened his hand. A quarter lay in his palm, dusty and a little bent. "It was under the big dryer. It's nobody's, so it's mine. Finders keepers."

(7) Renata opened her mouth to tell him to put it in the coffee can. A quarter was a quarter. It could be the first coin of next week's laundry. But Theo was already looking at the claw machine, and his whole face had gone bright, so she closed her mouth again.

(8) Before he could reach the machine, a dryer across the room buzzed and went quiet. The old man stood, opened its door and put his hand inside. He held it there for a long moment. Then he took out a shirt, felt it, and put it back.

(9) He patted the pockets of his cardigan. He patted them again. Then he sat down, folded his hands on top of his newspaper and looked at the dryer as if it were a person who had let him down.

(10) Theo watched him. Renata watched Theo.

(11) The boy walked over slowly, the way he walked up to dogs he did not know. "Are your clothes still wet?"

(12) "A little damp," the old man said. "The machine is honest. It gives you exactly what you pay for." He smiled, but only with the bottom half of his face. "I miscounted. My wife always did the counting."

(13) Theo looked down at his fist. He looked over at the claw machine, where a purple elephant lay near the top of the pile, almost close enough to win. Renata held her breath. She did not know which choice she was hoping he would make, and that surprised her.

(14) Then Theo opened his hand, dropped the quarter into the dryer's slot and pushed the button. The drum began to turn. "There," he said. "That's eight more minutes."

(15) The old man did not say anything at first. He looked at the turning drum, and then at Theo, and then across the room at Renata, and she saw that his eyes were wet. "Thank you, young man," he said finally. "That was a gentleman's quarter."

(16) Theo shrugged as if it were nothing and came back to the folding table. He climbed up to sit on the table beside his mother, which she usually told him not to do. Tonight she did not.

(17) "You could have won the elephant," she said.

(18) "Probably not," Theo said. "Nobody ever wins those."

(19) When their own clothes were dry, Renata folded them while Theo matched socks badly. On the way out, the old man stood up and held the door for them, and this time, instead of nodding, he said good night, and so did they.

(20) In the car, Renata did not start the engine right away. She thought about the coffee can on top of the refrigerator, and the way she counted every coin twice, and how she had been teaching Theo, without meaning to, that money was something you held on to with both fists. She was glad, she realized, that he had not learned it yet.

(21) "Mom," Theo said from the back seat. "Can we come on Sunday again?"

(22) "We always come on Sunday," she said, and started the car.

(1) On Sunday nights the Suds-N-Go was nearly empty, which was why Renata liked it. She set the laundry basket on the folding table and poured the quarters from the coffee can into her palm. She counted them twice, the way her mother used to count the bills for rent. Fourteen quarters. Eight for the washer, six for the dryer. Exactly enough.

(2) "Can I have one for the claw machine?" Theo asked. He was ten, and he had already pressed his nose to the glass box by the door, where a heap of stuffed animals lay waiting like a crowd of tired passengers.

(3) "Not tonight, baby. These are spoken for."

(4) Theo sighed the sigh of a boy who had heard that sentence before. He wandered off down the row of machines while Renata loaded the washer, measured the soap into the cap and fed in the quarters one by one. Each one dropped with a small, final click.

(5) The only other customer was an old man in a gray cardigan, sitting very straight in one of the plastic chairs with a newspaper folded on his knee. Renata had seen him before. He always nodded to her, and she always nodded back, and that was the whole of their friendship.

(6) Halfway through the wash cycle, Theo came running back with his fist closed tight. "Mom. Look." He opened his hand. A quarter lay in his palm, dusty and a little bent. "It was under the big dryer. It's nobody's, so it's mine. Finders keepers."

(7) Renata opened her mouth to tell him to put it in the coffee can. A quarter was a quarter. It could be the first coin of next week's laundry. But Theo was already looking at the claw machine, and his whole face had gone bright, so she closed her mouth again.

(8) Before he could reach the machine, a dryer across the room buzzed and went quiet. The old man stood, opened its door and put his hand inside. He held it there for a long moment. Then he took out a shirt, felt it, and put it back.

(9) He patted the pockets of his cardigan. He patted them again. Then he sat down, folded his hands on top of his newspaper and looked at the dryer as if it were a person who had let him down.

(10) Theo watched him. Renata watched Theo.

(11) The boy walked over slowly, the way he walked up to dogs he did not know. "Are your clothes still wet?"

(12) "A little damp," the old man said. "The machine is honest. It gives you exactly what you pay for." He smiled, but only with the bottom half of his face. "I miscounted. My wife always did the counting."

(13) Theo looked down at his fist. He looked over at the claw machine, where a purple elephant lay near the top of the pile, almost close enough to win. Renata held her breath. She did not know which choice she was hoping he would make, and that surprised her.

(14) Then Theo opened his hand, dropped the quarter into the dryer's slot and pushed the button. The drum began to turn. "There," he said. "That's eight more minutes."

(15) The old man did not say anything at first. He looked at the turning drum, and then at Theo, and then across the room at Renata, and she saw that his eyes were wet. "Thank you, young man," he said finally. "That was a gentleman's quarter."

(16) Theo shrugged as if it were nothing and came back to the folding table. He climbed up to sit on the table beside his mother, which she usually told him not to do. Tonight she did not.

(17) "You could have won the elephant," she said.

(18) "Probably not," Theo said. "Nobody ever wins those."

(19) When their own clothes were dry, Renata folded them while Theo matched socks badly. On the way out, the old man stood up and held the door for them, and this time, instead of nodding, he said good night, and so did they.

(20) In the car, Renata did not start the engine right away. She thought about the coffee can on top of the refrigerator, and the way she counted every coin twice, and how she had been teaching Theo, without meaning to, that money was something you held on to with both fists. She was glad, she realized, that he had not learned it yet.

(21) "Mom," Theo said from the back seat. "Can we come on Sunday again?"

(22) "We always come on Sunday," she said, and started the car.

(1) On Sunday nights the Suds-N-Go was nearly empty, which was why Renata liked it. She set the laundry basket on the folding table and poured the quarters from the coffee can into her palm. She counted them twice, the way her mother used to count the bills for rent. Fourteen quarters. Eight for the washer, six for the dryer. Exactly enough.

(2) "Can I have one for the claw machine?" Theo asked. He was ten, and he had already pressed his nose to the glass box by the door, where a heap of stuffed animals lay waiting like a crowd of tired passengers.

(3) "Not tonight, baby. These are spoken for."

(4) Theo sighed the sigh of a boy who had heard that sentence before. He wandered off down the row of machines while Renata loaded the washer, measured the soap into the cap and fed in the quarters one by one. Each one dropped with a small, final click.

(5) The only other customer was an old man in a gray cardigan, sitting very straight in one of the plastic chairs with a newspaper folded on his knee. Renata had seen him before. He always nodded to her, and she always nodded back, and that was the whole of their friendship.

(6) Halfway through the wash cycle, Theo came running back with his fist closed tight. "Mom. Look." He opened his hand. A quarter lay in his palm, dusty and a little bent. "It was under the big dryer. It's nobody's, so it's mine. Finders keepers."

(7) Renata opened her mouth to tell him to put it in the coffee can. A quarter was a quarter. It could be the first coin of next week's laundry. But Theo was already looking at the claw machine, and his whole face had gone bright, so she closed her mouth again.

(8) Before he could reach the machine, a dryer across the room buzzed and went quiet. The old man stood, opened its door and put his hand inside. He held it there for a long moment. Then he took out a shirt, felt it, and put it back.

(9) He patted the pockets of his cardigan. He patted them again. Then he sat down, folded his hands on top of his newspaper and looked at the dryer as if it were a person who had let him down.

(10) Theo watched him. Renata watched Theo.

(11) The boy walked over slowly, the way he walked up to dogs he did not know. "Are your clothes still wet?"

(12) "A little damp," the old man said. "The machine is honest. It gives you exactly what you pay for." He smiled, but only with the bottom half of his face. "I miscounted. My wife always did the counting."

(13) Theo looked down at his fist. He looked over at the claw machine, where a purple elephant lay near the top of the pile, almost close enough to win. Renata held her breath. She did not know which choice she was hoping he would make, and that surprised her.

(14) Then Theo opened his hand, dropped the quarter into the dryer's slot and pushed the button. The drum began to turn. "There," he said. "That's eight more minutes."

(15) The old man did not say anything at first. He looked at the turning drum, and then at Theo, and then across the room at Renata, and she saw that his eyes were wet. "Thank you, young man," he said finally. "That was a gentleman's quarter."

(16) Theo shrugged as if it were nothing and came back to the folding table. He climbed up to sit on the table beside his mother, which she usually told him not to do. Tonight she did not.

(17) "You could have won the elephant," she said.

(18) "Probably not," Theo said. "Nobody ever wins those."

(19) When their own clothes were dry, Renata folded them while Theo matched socks badly. On the way out, the old man stood up and held the door for them, and this time, instead of nodding, he said good night, and so did they.

(20) In the car, Renata did not start the engine right away. She thought about the coffee can on top of the refrigerator, and the way she counted every coin twice, and how she had been teaching Theo, without meaning to, that money was something you held on to with both fists. She was glad, she realized, that he had not learned it yet.

(21) "Mom," Theo said from the back seat. "Can we come on Sunday again?"

(22) "We always come on Sunday," she said, and started the car.

(1) On Sunday nights the Suds-N-Go was nearly empty, which was why Renata liked it. She set the laundry basket on the folding table and poured the quarters from the coffee can into her palm. She counted them twice, the way her mother used to count the bills for rent. Fourteen quarters. Eight for the washer, six for the dryer. Exactly enough.

(2) "Can I have one for the claw machine?" Theo asked. He was ten, and he had already pressed his nose to the glass box by the door, where a heap of stuffed animals lay waiting like a crowd of tired passengers.

(3) "Not tonight, baby. These are spoken for."

(4) Theo sighed the sigh of a boy who had heard that sentence before. He wandered off down the row of machines while Renata loaded the washer, measured the soap into the cap and fed in the quarters one by one. Each one dropped with a small, final click.

(5) The only other customer was an old man in a gray cardigan, sitting very straight in one of the plastic chairs with a newspaper folded on his knee. Renata had seen him before. He always nodded to her, and she always nodded back, and that was the whole of their friendship.

(6) Halfway through the wash cycle, Theo came running back with his fist closed tight. "Mom. Look." He opened his hand. A quarter lay in his palm, dusty and a little bent. "It was under the big dryer. It's nobody's, so it's mine. Finders keepers."

(7) Renata opened her mouth to tell him to put it in the coffee can. A quarter was a quarter. It could be the first coin of next week's laundry. But Theo was already looking at the claw machine, and his whole face had gone bright, so she closed her mouth again.

(8) Before he could reach the machine, a dryer across the room buzzed and went quiet. The old man stood, opened its door and put his hand inside. He held it there for a long moment. Then he took out a shirt, felt it, and put it back.

(9) He patted the pockets of his cardigan. He patted them again. Then he sat down, folded his hands on top of his newspaper and looked at the dryer as if it were a person who had let him down.

(10) Theo watched him. Renata watched Theo.

(11) The boy walked over slowly, the way he walked up to dogs he did not know. "Are your clothes still wet?"

(12) "A little damp," the old man said. "The machine is honest. It gives you exactly what you pay for." He smiled, but only with the bottom half of his face. "I miscounted. My wife always did the counting."

(13) Theo looked down at his fist. He looked over at the claw machine, where a purple elephant lay near the top of the pile, almost close enough to win. Renata held her breath. She did not know which choice she was hoping he would make, and that surprised her.

(14) Then Theo opened his hand, dropped the quarter into the dryer's slot and pushed the button. The drum began to turn. "There," he said. "That's eight more minutes."

(15) The old man did not say anything at first. He looked at the turning drum, and then at Theo, and then across the room at Renata, and she saw that his eyes were wet. "Thank you, young man," he said finally. "That was a gentleman's quarter."

(16) Theo shrugged as if it were nothing and came back to the folding table. He climbed up to sit on the table beside his mother, which she usually told him not to do. Tonight she did not.

(17) "You could have won the elephant," she said.

(18) "Probably not," Theo said. "Nobody ever wins those."

(19) When their own clothes were dry, Renata folded them while Theo matched socks badly. On the way out, the old man stood up and held the door for them, and this time, instead of nodding, he said good night, and so did they.

(20) In the car, Renata did not start the engine right away. She thought about the coffee can on top of the refrigerator, and the way she counted every coin twice, and how she had been teaching Theo, without meaning to, that money was something you held on to with both fists. She was glad, she realized, that he had not learned it yet.

(21) "Mom," Theo said from the back seat. "Can we come on Sunday again?"

(22) "We always come on Sunday," she said, and started the car.

(1) Late on the afternoon of Saturday, March 25, 1911, workers at the Triangle Waist Company in New York City were getting ready to go home. The company made women's blouses, then called "shirtwaists," on the top three floors of the ten-story Asch Building near Washington Square. Most of its roughly 500 workers were young immigrant women, many of them Jewish or Italian, and some were only teenagers. They worked long hours at sewing machines packed so tightly together that there was little room to move between the rows.

(2) At about 4:40 p.m., a fire started in a bin of fabric scraps on the eighth floor. Investigators believed it was probably sparked by a match or a cigarette. The flames spread quickly through piles of cotton cloth and thin paper patterns. Workers on the tenth floor were warned by telephone, and most of them escaped to the roof. But no one warned the ninth floor until the fire was already there.

(3) What happened next turned a fire into a disaster. One of the ninth floor's two stairway doors was locked. The owners had made a practice of locking doors during the workday, apparently to prevent theft and to keep workers from taking unapproved breaks. The other stairway quickly filled with smoke and flames. The single fire escape, flimsy and poorly built, twisted and collapsed under the weight of the people trying to climb down it. Firefighters arrived quickly, but their ladders reached only to about the sixth or seventh floor, well below the fire. Trapped workers crowded into the elevators until the elevators could no longer run; others jumped from the windows to the street below. In less than half an hour, 146 people were dead.

(4) The tragedy did not come out of nowhere. Two years earlier, thousands of garment workers, including many from Triangle, had gone on strike to demand shorter hours, better pay and safer conditions. Many shops agreed to some of the strikers' demands, but Triangle's owners refused to recognize the workers' union. After the fire, many New Yorkers believed that the workers' warnings had been ignored. Tens of thousands of people marched in a funeral procession through the city, and huge crowds lined the streets in the rain to watch.

(5) The owners, Max Blanck and Isaac Harris, were tried for manslaughter later that year. A jury found them not guilty, in part because the prosecution could not prove that the owners knew the door was locked at the time of the fire. To many people, the verdict showed that the law itself needed to change.

(6) Change came quickly. Within months, New York State created the Factory Investigating Commission. Its members visited factories across the state, interviewed workers and recorded dangerous conditions. Their work led to dozens of new state laws, including laws that required automatic sprinklers in large factory buildings, regular fire drills, doors that stay unlocked and swing outward, and limits on the working hours of women and children.

(7) One witness to the fire carried its lessons much further. Frances Perkins, a young social worker, watched from the street as workers fell from the windows. She later worked closely with the commission as an investigator. In 1933, President Franklin D. Roosevelt named her Secretary of Labor, making her the first woman to serve in a president's cabinet. She helped shape national protections such as Social Security and the federal minimum wage. Years later, Perkins said that she believed the New Deal had begun on the day of the Triangle fire.

(8) Today, workplace safety rules can seem like nothing more than paperwork: lighted exit signs, fire drills, inspection tags on fire extinguishers. But each of those rules has a history. Many of them exist because, on a spring afternoon in 1911, 146 workers on the top floors of the Asch Building could not get out.

(1) Late on the afternoon of Saturday, March 25, 1911, workers at the Triangle Waist Company in New York City were getting ready to go home. The company made women's blouses, then called "shirtwaists," on the top three floors of the ten-story Asch Building near Washington Square. Most of its roughly 500 workers were young immigrant women, many of them Jewish or Italian, and some were only teenagers. They worked long hours at sewing machines packed so tightly together that there was little room to move between the rows.

(2) At about 4:40 p.m., a fire started in a bin of fabric scraps on the eighth floor. Investigators believed it was probably sparked by a match or a cigarette. The flames spread quickly through piles of cotton cloth and thin paper patterns. Workers on the tenth floor were warned by telephone, and most of them escaped to the roof. But no one warned the ninth floor until the fire was already there.

(3) What happened next turned a fire into a disaster. One of the ninth floor's two stairway doors was locked. The owners had made a practice of locking doors during the workday, apparently to prevent theft and to keep workers from taking unapproved breaks. The other stairway quickly filled with smoke and flames. The single fire escape, flimsy and poorly built, twisted and collapsed under the weight of the people trying to climb down it. Firefighters arrived quickly, but their ladders reached only to about the sixth or seventh floor, well below the fire. Trapped workers crowded into the elevators until the elevators could no longer run; others jumped from the windows to the street below. In less than half an hour, 146 people were dead.

(4) The tragedy did not come out of nowhere. Two years earlier, thousands of garment workers, including many from Triangle, had gone on strike to demand shorter hours, better pay and safer conditions. Many shops agreed to some of the strikers' demands, but Triangle's owners refused to recognize the workers' union. After the fire, many New Yorkers believed that the workers' warnings had been ignored. Tens of thousands of people marched in a funeral procession through the city, and huge crowds lined the streets in the rain to watch.

(5) The owners, Max Blanck and Isaac Harris, were tried for manslaughter later that year. A jury found them not guilty, in part because the prosecution could not prove that the owners knew the door was locked at the time of the fire. To many people, the verdict showed that the law itself needed to change.

(6) Change came quickly. Within months, New York State created the Factory Investigating Commission. Its members visited factories across the state, interviewed workers and recorded dangerous conditions. Their work led to dozens of new state laws, including laws that required automatic sprinklers in large factory buildings, regular fire drills, doors that stay unlocked and swing outward, and limits on the working hours of women and children.

(7) One witness to the fire carried its lessons much further. Frances Perkins, a young social worker, watched from the street as workers fell from the windows. She later worked closely with the commission as an investigator. In 1933, President Franklin D. Roosevelt named her Secretary of Labor, making her the first woman to serve in a president's cabinet. She helped shape national protections such as Social Security and the federal minimum wage. Years later, Perkins said that she believed the New Deal had begun on the day of the Triangle fire.

(8) Today, workplace safety rules can seem like nothing more than paperwork: lighted exit signs, fire drills, inspection tags on fire extinguishers. But each of those rules has a history. Many of them exist because, on a spring afternoon in 1911, 146 workers on the top floors of the Asch Building could not get out.

(1) Late on the afternoon of Saturday, March 25, 1911, workers at the Triangle Waist Company in New York City were getting ready to go home. The company made women's blouses, then called "shirtwaists," on the top three floors of the ten-story Asch Building near Washington Square. Most of its roughly 500 workers were young immigrant women, many of them Jewish or Italian, and some were only teenagers. They worked long hours at sewing machines packed so tightly together that there was little room to move between the rows.

(2) At about 4:40 p.m., a fire started in a bin of fabric scraps on the eighth floor. Investigators believed it was probably sparked by a match or a cigarette. The flames spread quickly through piles of cotton cloth and thin paper patterns. Workers on the tenth floor were warned by telephone, and most of them escaped to the roof. But no one warned the ninth floor until the fire was already there.

(3) What happened next turned a fire into a disaster. One of the ninth floor's two stairway doors was locked. The owners had made a practice of locking doors during the workday, apparently to prevent theft and to keep workers from taking unapproved breaks. The other stairway quickly filled with smoke and flames. The single fire escape, flimsy and poorly built, twisted and collapsed under the weight of the people trying to climb down it. Firefighters arrived quickly, but their ladders reached only to about the sixth or seventh floor, well below the fire. Trapped workers crowded into the elevators until the elevators could no longer run; others jumped from the windows to the street below. In less than half an hour, 146 people were dead.

(4) The tragedy did not come out of nowhere. Two years earlier, thousands of garment workers, including many from Triangle, had gone on strike to demand shorter hours, better pay and safer conditions. Many shops agreed to some of the strikers' demands, but Triangle's owners refused to recognize the workers' union. After the fire, many New Yorkers believed that the workers' warnings had been ignored. Tens of thousands of people marched in a funeral procession through the city, and huge crowds lined the streets in the rain to watch.

(5) The owners, Max Blanck and Isaac Harris, were tried for manslaughter later that year. A jury found them not guilty, in part because the prosecution could not prove that the owners knew the door was locked at the time of the fire. To many people, the verdict showed that the law itself needed to change.

(6) Change came quickly. Within months, New York State created the Factory Investigating Commission. Its members visited factories across the state, interviewed workers and recorded dangerous conditions. Their work led to dozens of new state laws, including laws that required automatic sprinklers in large factory buildings, regular fire drills, doors that stay unlocked and swing outward, and limits on the working hours of women and children.

(7) One witness to the fire carried its lessons much further. Frances Perkins, a young social worker, watched from the street as workers fell from the windows. She later worked closely with the commission as an investigator. In 1933, President Franklin D. Roosevelt named her Secretary of Labor, making her the first woman to serve in a president's cabinet. She helped shape national protections such as Social Security and the federal minimum wage. Years later, Perkins said that she believed the New Deal had begun on the day of the Triangle fire.

(8) Today, workplace safety rules can seem like nothing more than paperwork: lighted exit signs, fire drills, inspection tags on fire extinguishers. But each of those rules has a history. Many of them exist because, on a spring afternoon in 1911, 146 workers on the top floors of the Asch Building could not get out.

(1) Late on the afternoon of Saturday, March 25, 1911, workers at the Triangle Waist Company in New York City were getting ready to go home. The company made women's blouses, then called "shirtwaists," on the top three floors of the ten-story Asch Building near Washington Square. Most of its roughly 500 workers were young immigrant women, many of them Jewish or Italian, and some were only teenagers. They worked long hours at sewing machines packed so tightly together that there was little room to move between the rows.

(2) At about 4:40 p.m., a fire started in a bin of fabric scraps on the eighth floor. Investigators believed it was probably sparked by a match or a cigarette. The flames spread quickly through piles of cotton cloth and thin paper patterns. Workers on the tenth floor were warned by telephone, and most of them escaped to the roof. But no one warned the ninth floor until the fire was already there.

(3) What happened next turned a fire into a disaster. One of the ninth floor's two stairway doors was locked. The owners had made a practice of locking doors during the workday, apparently to prevent theft and to keep workers from taking unapproved breaks. The other stairway quickly filled with smoke and flames. The single fire escape, flimsy and poorly built, twisted and collapsed under the weight of the people trying to climb down it. Firefighters arrived quickly, but their ladders reached only to about the sixth or seventh floor, well below the fire. Trapped workers crowded into the elevators until the elevators could no longer run; others jumped from the windows to the street below. In less than half an hour, 146 people were dead.

(4) The tragedy did not come out of nowhere. Two years earlier, thousands of garment workers, including many from Triangle, had gone on strike to demand shorter hours, better pay and safer conditions. Many shops agreed to some of the strikers' demands, but Triangle's owners refused to recognize the workers' union. After the fire, many New Yorkers believed that the workers' warnings had been ignored. Tens of thousands of people marched in a funeral procession through the city, and huge crowds lined the streets in the rain to watch.

(5) The owners, Max Blanck and Isaac Harris, were tried for manslaughter later that year. A jury found them not guilty, in part because the prosecution could not prove that the owners knew the door was locked at the time of the fire. To many people, the verdict showed that the law itself needed to change.

(6) Change came quickly. Within months, New York State created the Factory Investigating Commission. Its members visited factories across the state, interviewed workers and recorded dangerous conditions. Their work led to dozens of new state laws, including laws that required automatic sprinklers in large factory buildings, regular fire drills, doors that stay unlocked and swing outward, and limits on the working hours of women and children.

(7) One witness to the fire carried its lessons much further. Frances Perkins, a young social worker, watched from the street as workers fell from the windows. She later worked closely with the commission as an investigator. In 1933, President Franklin D. Roosevelt named her Secretary of Labor, making her the first woman to serve in a president's cabinet. She helped shape national protections such as Social Security and the federal minimum wage. Years later, Perkins said that she believed the New Deal had begun on the day of the Triangle fire.

(8) Today, workplace safety rules can seem like nothing more than paperwork: lighted exit signs, fire drills, inspection tags on fire extinguishers. But each of those rules has a history. Many of them exist because, on a spring afternoon in 1911, 146 workers on the top floors of the Asch Building could not get out.

(1) Late on the afternoon of Saturday, March 25, 1911, workers at the Triangle Waist Company in New York City were getting ready to go home. The company made women's blouses, then called "shirtwaists," on the top three floors of the ten-story Asch Building near Washington Square. Most of its roughly 500 workers were young immigrant women, many of them Jewish or Italian, and some were only teenagers. They worked long hours at sewing machines packed so tightly together that there was little room to move between the rows.

(2) At about 4:40 p.m., a fire started in a bin of fabric scraps on the eighth floor. Investigators believed it was probably sparked by a match or a cigarette. The flames spread quickly through piles of cotton cloth and thin paper patterns. Workers on the tenth floor were warned by telephone, and most of them escaped to the roof. But no one warned the ninth floor until the fire was already there.

(3) What happened next turned a fire into a disaster. One of the ninth floor's two stairway doors was locked. The owners had made a practice of locking doors during the workday, apparently to prevent theft and to keep workers from taking unapproved breaks. The other stairway quickly filled with smoke and flames. The single fire escape, flimsy and poorly built, twisted and collapsed under the weight of the people trying to climb down it. Firefighters arrived quickly, but their ladders reached only to about the sixth or seventh floor, well below the fire. Trapped workers crowded into the elevators until the elevators could no longer run; others jumped from the windows to the street below. In less than half an hour, 146 people were dead.

(4) The tragedy did not come out of nowhere. Two years earlier, thousands of garment workers, including many from Triangle, had gone on strike to demand shorter hours, better pay and safer conditions. Many shops agreed to some of the strikers' demands, but Triangle's owners refused to recognize the workers' union. After the fire, many New Yorkers believed that the workers' warnings had been ignored. Tens of thousands of people marched in a funeral procession through the city, and huge crowds lined the streets in the rain to watch.

(5) The owners, Max Blanck and Isaac Harris, were tried for manslaughter later that year. A jury found them not guilty, in part because the prosecution could not prove that the owners knew the door was locked at the time of the fire. To many people, the verdict showed that the law itself needed to change.

(6) Change came quickly. Within months, New York State created the Factory Investigating Commission. Its members visited factories across the state, interviewed workers and recorded dangerous conditions. Their work led to dozens of new state laws, including laws that required automatic sprinklers in large factory buildings, regular fire drills, doors that stay unlocked and swing outward, and limits on the working hours of women and children.

(7) One witness to the fire carried its lessons much further. Frances Perkins, a young social worker, watched from the street as workers fell from the windows. She later worked closely with the commission as an investigator. In 1933, President Franklin D. Roosevelt named her Secretary of Labor, making her the first woman to serve in a president's cabinet. She helped shape national protections such as Social Security and the federal minimum wage. Years later, Perkins said that she believed the New Deal had begun on the day of the Triangle fire.

(8) Today, workplace safety rules can seem like nothing more than paperwork: lighted exit signs, fire drills, inspection tags on fire extinguishers. But each of those rules has a history. Many of them exist because, on a spring afternoon in 1911, 146 workers on the top floors of the Asch Building could not get out.

(1) Late on the afternoon of Saturday, March 25, 1911, workers at the Triangle Waist Company in New York City were getting ready to go home. The company made women's blouses, then called "shirtwaists," on the top three floors of the ten-story Asch Building near Washington Square. Most of its roughly 500 workers were young immigrant women, many of them Jewish or Italian, and some were only teenagers. They worked long hours at sewing machines packed so tightly together that there was little room to move between the rows.

(2) At about 4:40 p.m., a fire started in a bin of fabric scraps on the eighth floor. Investigators believed it was probably sparked by a match or a cigarette. The flames spread quickly through piles of cotton cloth and thin paper patterns. Workers on the tenth floor were warned by telephone, and most of them escaped to the roof. But no one warned the ninth floor until the fire was already there.

(3) What happened next turned a fire into a disaster. One of the ninth floor's two stairway doors was locked. The owners had made a practice of locking doors during the workday, apparently to prevent theft and to keep workers from taking unapproved breaks. The other stairway quickly filled with smoke and flames. The single fire escape, flimsy and poorly built, twisted and collapsed under the weight of the people trying to climb down it. Firefighters arrived quickly, but their ladders reached only to about the sixth or seventh floor, well below the fire. Trapped workers crowded into the elevators until the elevators could no longer run; others jumped from the windows to the street below. In less than half an hour, 146 people were dead.

(4) The tragedy did not come out of nowhere. Two years earlier, thousands of garment workers, including many from Triangle, had gone on strike to demand shorter hours, better pay and safer conditions. Many shops agreed to some of the strikers' demands, but Triangle's owners refused to recognize the workers' union. After the fire, many New Yorkers believed that the workers' warnings had been ignored. Tens of thousands of people marched in a funeral procession through the city, and huge crowds lined the streets in the rain to watch.

(5) The owners, Max Blanck and Isaac Harris, were tried for manslaughter later that year. A jury found them not guilty, in part because the prosecution could not prove that the owners knew the door was locked at the time of the fire. To many people, the verdict showed that the law itself needed to change.

(6) Change came quickly. Within months, New York State created the Factory Investigating Commission. Its members visited factories across the state, interviewed workers and recorded dangerous conditions. Their work led to dozens of new state laws, including laws that required automatic sprinklers in large factory buildings, regular fire drills, doors that stay unlocked and swing outward, and limits on the working hours of women and children.

(7) One witness to the fire carried its lessons much further. Frances Perkins, a young social worker, watched from the street as workers fell from the windows. She later worked closely with the commission as an investigator. In 1933, President Franklin D. Roosevelt named her Secretary of Labor, making her the first woman to serve in a president's cabinet. She helped shape national protections such as Social Security and the federal minimum wage. Years later, Perkins said that she believed the New Deal had begun on the day of the Triangle fire.

(8) Today, workplace safety rules can seem like nothing more than paperwork: lighted exit signs, fire drills, inspection tags on fire extinguishers. But each of those rules has a history. Many of them exist because, on a spring afternoon in 1911, 146 workers on the top floors of the Asch Building could not get out.

Text 1: Teach Money Before Students Need It

An opinion article by a high school business teacher

(1) Every graduate will make money decisions, such as signing a lease, choosing a phone plan or deciding whether to take out a student loan. Most will make those decisions without ever having been taught how. Our state should require every high school student to complete a one-semester personal finance course before graduating.

(2) Young adults are already paying for this gap. In a survey of 800 recent graduates of our state's high schools conducted by the state treasurer's office, 61 percent said they did not understand how credit card interest worked when they got their first card, and 44 percent said they had paid a late fee or an overdraft fee during their first year after high school. These are not small mistakes. A single overdraft fee can cost $35, and a missed credit card payment can hurt a credit score for years.

(3) A required course can make a difference. At Lakeside High School, where I teach, personal finance has been required since 2019. Each semester, students build a monthly budget based on a real entry-level salary, compare two car loan offers and open a practice savings account. On our end-of-course surveys, 87 percent of students rate the class "useful" or "very useful," the highest rating of any course at our school.

(4) Some people say that parents should teach money skills at home. Many parents do. But not every family has the time, the knowledge or the experience to teach these skills, and students from families that struggle with money are often the ones who most need the lessons. A required course gives every student the same start.

(5) Finally, some worry that there is no room in the schedule. But a one-semester course is only half of one credit. Surely our students' financial futures are worth half a credit.

Text 2: Better Math, Not Another Requirement

An opinion article by a high school principal

(6) I agree that young people need to understand money. I disagree that the answer is another required course.

(7) Our students already must earn 24 credits to graduate, and most of those credits are already assigned to required subjects. Every new requirement pushes something else out. When a nearby district added a required finance course two years ago, enrollment in its art, music and career-technical courses dropped by 18 percent, according to the district's own records. For students planning careers in welding or nursing, those lost class periods mattered.

(8) There is also the question of who would teach the new course. Our school, like many others, already struggles to fill math positions. A finance course would most likely be assigned to whichever teacher had an open period, not necessarily to someone trained in the subject.

(9) A better plan is to build money lessons into courses students already take. Math classes can teach interest and budgeting using real loan offers and pay stubs. Social studies classes can teach how taxes work. Last year, our algebra teachers added a six-week unit on interest and credit. On the unit test, students' average score on questions about interest rose from 52 percent before the unit to 81 percent after it.

(10) Money skills matter. But we can teach them without taking away the electives that keep many students coming to school.

Text 1: Teach Money Before Students Need It

An opinion article by a high school business teacher

(1) Every graduate will make money decisions, such as signing a lease, choosing a phone plan or deciding whether to take out a student loan. Most will make those decisions without ever having been taught how. Our state should require every high school student to complete a one-semester personal finance course before graduating.

(2) Young adults are already paying for this gap. In a survey of 800 recent graduates of our state's high schools conducted by the state treasurer's office, 61 percent said they did not understand how credit card interest worked when they got their first card, and 44 percent said they had paid a late fee or an overdraft fee during their first year after high school. These are not small mistakes. A single overdraft fee can cost $35, and a missed credit card payment can hurt a credit score for years.

(3) A required course can make a difference. At Lakeside High School, where I teach, personal finance has been required since 2019. Each semester, students build a monthly budget based on a real entry-level salary, compare two car loan offers and open a practice savings account. On our end-of-course surveys, 87 percent of students rate the class "useful" or "very useful," the highest rating of any course at our school.

(4) Some people say that parents should teach money skills at home. Many parents do. But not every family has the time, the knowledge or the experience to teach these skills, and students from families that struggle with money are often the ones who most need the lessons. A required course gives every student the same start.

(5) Finally, some worry that there is no room in the schedule. But a one-semester course is only half of one credit. Surely our students' financial futures are worth half a credit.

Text 2: Better Math, Not Another Requirement

An opinion article by a high school principal

(6) I agree that young people need to understand money. I disagree that the answer is another required course.

(7) Our students already must earn 24 credits to graduate, and most of those credits are already assigned to required subjects. Every new requirement pushes something else out. When a nearby district added a required finance course two years ago, enrollment in its art, music and career-technical courses dropped by 18 percent, according to the district's own records. For students planning careers in welding or nursing, those lost class periods mattered.

(8) There is also the question of who would teach the new course. Our school, like many others, already struggles to fill math positions. A finance course would most likely be assigned to whichever teacher had an open period, not necessarily to someone trained in the subject.

(9) A better plan is to build money lessons into courses students already take. Math classes can teach interest and budgeting using real loan offers and pay stubs. Social studies classes can teach how taxes work. Last year, our algebra teachers added a six-week unit on interest and credit. On the unit test, students' average score on questions about interest rose from 52 percent before the unit to 81 percent after it.

(10) Money skills matter. But we can teach them without taking away the electives that keep many students coming to school.

Text 1: Teach Money Before Students Need It

An opinion article by a high school business teacher

(1) Every graduate will make money decisions, such as signing a lease, choosing a phone plan or deciding whether to take out a student loan. Most will make those decisions without ever having been taught how. Our state should require every high school student to complete a one-semester personal finance course before graduating.

(2) Young adults are already paying for this gap. In a survey of 800 recent graduates of our state's high schools conducted by the state treasurer's office, 61 percent said they did not understand how credit card interest worked when they got their first card, and 44 percent said they had paid a late fee or an overdraft fee during their first year after high school. These are not small mistakes. A single overdraft fee can cost $35, and a missed credit card payment can hurt a credit score for years.

(3) A required course can make a difference. At Lakeside High School, where I teach, personal finance has been required since 2019. Each semester, students build a monthly budget based on a real entry-level salary, compare two car loan offers and open a practice savings account. On our end-of-course surveys, 87 percent of students rate the class "useful" or "very useful," the highest rating of any course at our school.

(4) Some people say that parents should teach money skills at home. Many parents do. But not every family has the time, the knowledge or the experience to teach these skills, and students from families that struggle with money are often the ones who most need the lessons. A required course gives every student the same start.

(5) Finally, some worry that there is no room in the schedule. But a one-semester course is only half of one credit. Surely our students' financial futures are worth half a credit.

Text 2: Better Math, Not Another Requirement

An opinion article by a high school principal

(6) I agree that young people need to understand money. I disagree that the answer is another required course.

(7) Our students already must earn 24 credits to graduate, and most of those credits are already assigned to required subjects. Every new requirement pushes something else out. When a nearby district added a required finance course two years ago, enrollment in its art, music and career-technical courses dropped by 18 percent, according to the district's own records. For students planning careers in welding or nursing, those lost class periods mattered.

(8) There is also the question of who would teach the new course. Our school, like many others, already struggles to fill math positions. A finance course would most likely be assigned to whichever teacher had an open period, not necessarily to someone trained in the subject.

(9) A better plan is to build money lessons into courses students already take. Math classes can teach interest and budgeting using real loan offers and pay stubs. Social studies classes can teach how taxes work. Last year, our algebra teachers added a six-week unit on interest and credit. On the unit test, students' average score on questions about interest rose from 52 percent before the unit to 81 percent after it.

(10) Money skills matter. But we can teach them without taking away the electives that keep many students coming to school.

Text 1: Teach Money Before Students Need It

An opinion article by a high school business teacher

(1) Every graduate will make money decisions, such as signing a lease, choosing a phone plan or deciding whether to take out a student loan. Most will make those decisions without ever having been taught how. Our state should require every high school student to complete a one-semester personal finance course before graduating.

(2) Young adults are already paying for this gap. In a survey of 800 recent graduates of our state's high schools conducted by the state treasurer's office, 61 percent said they did not understand how credit card interest worked when they got their first card, and 44 percent said they had paid a late fee or an overdraft fee during their first year after high school. These are not small mistakes. A single overdraft fee can cost $35, and a missed credit card payment can hurt a credit score for years.

(3) A required course can make a difference. At Lakeside High School, where I teach, personal finance has been required since 2019. Each semester, students build a monthly budget based on a real entry-level salary, compare two car loan offers and open a practice savings account. On our end-of-course surveys, 87 percent of students rate the class "useful" or "very useful," the highest rating of any course at our school.

(4) Some people say that parents should teach money skills at home. Many parents do. But not every family has the time, the knowledge or the experience to teach these skills, and students from families that struggle with money are often the ones who most need the lessons. A required course gives every student the same start.

(5) Finally, some worry that there is no room in the schedule. But a one-semester course is only half of one credit. Surely our students' financial futures are worth half a credit.

Text 2: Better Math, Not Another Requirement

An opinion article by a high school principal

(6) I agree that young people need to understand money. I disagree that the answer is another required course.

(7) Our students already must earn 24 credits to graduate, and most of those credits are already assigned to required subjects. Every new requirement pushes something else out. When a nearby district added a required finance course two years ago, enrollment in its art, music and career-technical courses dropped by 18 percent, according to the district's own records. For students planning careers in welding or nursing, those lost class periods mattered.

(8) There is also the question of who would teach the new course. Our school, like many others, already struggles to fill math positions. A finance course would most likely be assigned to whichever teacher had an open period, not necessarily to someone trained in the subject.

(9) A better plan is to build money lessons into courses students already take. Math classes can teach interest and budgeting using real loan offers and pay stubs. Social studies classes can teach how taxes work. Last year, our algebra teachers added a six-week unit on interest and credit. On the unit test, students' average score on questions about interest rose from 52 percent before the unit to 81 percent after it.

(10) Money skills matter. But we can teach them without taking away the electives that keep many students coming to school.

Text 1: Teach Money Before Students Need It

An opinion article by a high school business teacher

(1) Every graduate will make money decisions, such as signing a lease, choosing a phone plan or deciding whether to take out a student loan. Most will make those decisions without ever having been taught how. Our state should require every high school student to complete a one-semester personal finance course before graduating.

(2) Young adults are already paying for this gap. In a survey of 800 recent graduates of our state's high schools conducted by the state treasurer's office, 61 percent said they did not understand how credit card interest worked when they got their first card, and 44 percent said they had paid a late fee or an overdraft fee during their first year after high school. These are not small mistakes. A single overdraft fee can cost $35, and a missed credit card payment can hurt a credit score for years.

(3) A required course can make a difference. At Lakeside High School, where I teach, personal finance has been required since 2019. Each semester, students build a monthly budget based on a real entry-level salary, compare two car loan offers and open a practice savings account. On our end-of-course surveys, 87 percent of students rate the class "useful" or "very useful," the highest rating of any course at our school.

(4) Some people say that parents should teach money skills at home. Many parents do. But not every family has the time, the knowledge or the experience to teach these skills, and students from families that struggle with money are often the ones who most need the lessons. A required course gives every student the same start.

(5) Finally, some worry that there is no room in the schedule. But a one-semester course is only half of one credit. Surely our students' financial futures are worth half a credit.

Text 2: Better Math, Not Another Requirement

An opinion article by a high school principal

(6) I agree that young people need to understand money. I disagree that the answer is another required course.

(7) Our students already must earn 24 credits to graduate, and most of those credits are already assigned to required subjects. Every new requirement pushes something else out. When a nearby district added a required finance course two years ago, enrollment in its art, music and career-technical courses dropped by 18 percent, according to the district's own records. For students planning careers in welding or nursing, those lost class periods mattered.

(8) There is also the question of who would teach the new course. Our school, like many others, already struggles to fill math positions. A finance course would most likely be assigned to whichever teacher had an open period, not necessarily to someone trained in the subject.

(9) A better plan is to build money lessons into courses students already take. Math classes can teach interest and budgeting using real loan offers and pay stubs. Social studies classes can teach how taxes work. Last year, our algebra teachers added a six-week unit on interest and credit. On the unit test, students' average score on questions about interest rose from 52 percent before the unit to 81 percent after it.

(10) Money skills matter. But we can teach them without taking away the electives that keep many students coming to school.

Text 1: Teach Money Before Students Need It

An opinion article by a high school business teacher

(1) Every graduate will make money decisions, such as signing a lease, choosing a phone plan or deciding whether to take out a student loan. Most will make those decisions without ever having been taught how. Our state should require every high school student to complete a one-semester personal finance course before graduating.

(2) Young adults are already paying for this gap. In a survey of 800 recent graduates of our state's high schools conducted by the state treasurer's office, 61 percent said they did not understand how credit card interest worked when they got their first card, and 44 percent said they had paid a late fee or an overdraft fee during their first year after high school. These are not small mistakes. A single overdraft fee can cost $35, and a missed credit card payment can hurt a credit score for years.

(3) A required course can make a difference. At Lakeside High School, where I teach, personal finance has been required since 2019. Each semester, students build a monthly budget based on a real entry-level salary, compare two car loan offers and open a practice savings account. On our end-of-course surveys, 87 percent of students rate the class "useful" or "very useful," the highest rating of any course at our school.

(4) Some people say that parents should teach money skills at home. Many parents do. But not every family has the time, the knowledge or the experience to teach these skills, and students from families that struggle with money are often the ones who most need the lessons. A required course gives every student the same start.

(5) Finally, some worry that there is no room in the schedule. But a one-semester course is only half of one credit. Surely our students' financial futures are worth half a credit.

Text 2: Better Math, Not Another Requirement

An opinion article by a high school principal

(6) I agree that young people need to understand money. I disagree that the answer is another required course.

(7) Our students already must earn 24 credits to graduate, and most of those credits are already assigned to required subjects. Every new requirement pushes something else out. When a nearby district added a required finance course two years ago, enrollment in its art, music and career-technical courses dropped by 18 percent, according to the district's own records. For students planning careers in welding or nursing, those lost class periods mattered.

(8) There is also the question of who would teach the new course. Our school, like many others, already struggles to fill math positions. A finance course would most likely be assigned to whichever teacher had an open period, not necessarily to someone trained in the subject.

(9) A better plan is to build money lessons into courses students already take. Math classes can teach interest and budgeting using real loan offers and pay stubs. Social studies classes can teach how taxes work. Last year, our algebra teachers added a six-week unit on interest and credit. On the unit test, students' average score on questions about interest rose from 52 percent before the unit to 81 percent after it.

(10) Money skills matter. But we can teach them without taking away the electives that keep many students coming to school.

(1) Imagine that your car will not start on a Monday morning. The mechanic says the repair will cost $400. How would you pay for it?

(2) For many Americans, that question has no easy answer. Each year, the Federal Reserve surveys thousands of adults about their finances. In recent years, more than a third of them have said they could not cover a surprise $400 expense with cash or its equivalent. Instead, they would put it on a credit card and pay it off over time, borrow from family or friends, take out a loan, sell something, or not be able to pay at all.

(3) This matters because a small emergency can quickly become a big one when it is paid for with expensive borrowing. Consider a payday loan, a short-term loan that is usually due on the borrower's next payday. A typical payday lender charges a fee of about $15 for every $100 borrowed for two weeks. Borrowing $400 would cost $60. That may not sound like much. But if the borrower cannot repay on time and renews the loan four times, the fees add up to $300, and the borrower still owes the original $400. Measured as a yearly rate, a fee of $15 per $100 every two weeks works out to almost 400 percent. By comparison, the average interest rate on credit cards, which are themselves considered an expensive way to borrow, has been around 20 to 25 percent in recent years.

(4) The best protection against this trap is an emergency fund: money set aside only for unexpected costs, such as car repairs, medical bills or a sudden drop in work hours. Financial advisers often recommend saving enough to cover three to six months of expenses. For a family living paycheck to paycheck, that goal can feel impossible, and people who believe a goal is out of reach often never start. That is why many experts now suggest beginning with a smaller target, such as $500 or $1,000, which is enough to handle many common emergencies.

(5) Consider a home health aide we will call Jasmine. Two years ago, a $600 dental bill forced her to take out a payday loan, and it took her four months to get out from under the fees. Afterward, she set up an automatic transfer of $20 from each weekly paycheck into a separate savings account. She barely noticed the money was gone. After one year, she had saved $1,040. When her refrigerator broke the next spring, she paid for the repair in cash.

(6) Jasmine's method uses two ideas that researchers who study saving have found helpful. The first is automation. When saving happens automatically, it no longer depends on willpower, because the money is moved before it can be spent. This approach is sometimes called "paying yourself first." The second idea is separation. Money kept in a separate account, especially one without a debit card attached, is less likely to be spent on everyday purchases.

(7) Where should an emergency fund be kept? It should be safe and easy to reach, but not too easy. A savings account at a bank insured by the FDIC or at a credit union insured by the NCUA is protected up to $250,000 per depositor, per institution, for each type of account ownership. Some online savings accounts also pay more interest than traditional accounts. An emergency fund should not be invested in something whose value can drop, such as stocks, because an emergency rarely waits for the market to recover.

(8) Building an emergency fund is not glamorous. It will not make anyone rich. But a few hundred dollars set aside today can be the difference between a bad day and a bad year.

(1) Imagine that your car will not start on a Monday morning. The mechanic says the repair will cost $400. How would you pay for it?

(2) For many Americans, that question has no easy answer. Each year, the Federal Reserve surveys thousands of adults about their finances. In recent years, more than a third of them have said they could not cover a surprise $400 expense with cash or its equivalent. Instead, they would put it on a credit card and pay it off over time, borrow from family or friends, take out a loan, sell something, or not be able to pay at all.

(3) This matters because a small emergency can quickly become a big one when it is paid for with expensive borrowing. Consider a payday loan, a short-term loan that is usually due on the borrower's next payday. A typical payday lender charges a fee of about $15 for every $100 borrowed for two weeks. Borrowing $400 would cost $60. That may not sound like much. But if the borrower cannot repay on time and renews the loan four times, the fees add up to $300, and the borrower still owes the original $400. Measured as a yearly rate, a fee of $15 per $100 every two weeks works out to almost 400 percent. By comparison, the average interest rate on credit cards, which are themselves considered an expensive way to borrow, has been around 20 to 25 percent in recent years.

(4) The best protection against this trap is an emergency fund: money set aside only for unexpected costs, such as car repairs, medical bills or a sudden drop in work hours. Financial advisers often recommend saving enough to cover three to six months of expenses. For a family living paycheck to paycheck, that goal can feel impossible, and people who believe a goal is out of reach often never start. That is why many experts now suggest beginning with a smaller target, such as $500 or $1,000, which is enough to handle many common emergencies.

(5) Consider a home health aide we will call Jasmine. Two years ago, a $600 dental bill forced her to take out a payday loan, and it took her four months to get out from under the fees. Afterward, she set up an automatic transfer of $20 from each weekly paycheck into a separate savings account. She barely noticed the money was gone. After one year, she had saved $1,040. When her refrigerator broke the next spring, she paid for the repair in cash.

(6) Jasmine's method uses two ideas that researchers who study saving have found helpful. The first is automation. When saving happens automatically, it no longer depends on willpower, because the money is moved before it can be spent. This approach is sometimes called "paying yourself first." The second idea is separation. Money kept in a separate account, especially one without a debit card attached, is less likely to be spent on everyday purchases.

(7) Where should an emergency fund be kept? It should be safe and easy to reach, but not too easy. A savings account at a bank insured by the FDIC or at a credit union insured by the NCUA is protected up to $250,000 per depositor, per institution, for each type of account ownership. Some online savings accounts also pay more interest than traditional accounts. An emergency fund should not be invested in something whose value can drop, such as stocks, because an emergency rarely waits for the market to recover.

(8) Building an emergency fund is not glamorous. It will not make anyone rich. But a few hundred dollars set aside today can be the difference between a bad day and a bad year.

(1) Imagine that your car will not start on a Monday morning. The mechanic says the repair will cost $400. How would you pay for it?

(2) For many Americans, that question has no easy answer. Each year, the Federal Reserve surveys thousands of adults about their finances. In recent years, more than a third of them have said they could not cover a surprise $400 expense with cash or its equivalent. Instead, they would put it on a credit card and pay it off over time, borrow from family or friends, take out a loan, sell something, or not be able to pay at all.

(3) This matters because a small emergency can quickly become a big one when it is paid for with expensive borrowing. Consider a payday loan, a short-term loan that is usually due on the borrower's next payday. A typical payday lender charges a fee of about $15 for every $100 borrowed for two weeks. Borrowing $400 would cost $60. That may not sound like much. But if the borrower cannot repay on time and renews the loan four times, the fees add up to $300, and the borrower still owes the original $400. Measured as a yearly rate, a fee of $15 per $100 every two weeks works out to almost 400 percent. By comparison, the average interest rate on credit cards, which are themselves considered an expensive way to borrow, has been around 20 to 25 percent in recent years.

(4) The best protection against this trap is an emergency fund: money set aside only for unexpected costs, such as car repairs, medical bills or a sudden drop in work hours. Financial advisers often recommend saving enough to cover three to six months of expenses. For a family living paycheck to paycheck, that goal can feel impossible, and people who believe a goal is out of reach often never start. That is why many experts now suggest beginning with a smaller target, such as $500 or $1,000, which is enough to handle many common emergencies.

(5) Consider a home health aide we will call Jasmine. Two years ago, a $600 dental bill forced her to take out a payday loan, and it took her four months to get out from under the fees. Afterward, she set up an automatic transfer of $20 from each weekly paycheck into a separate savings account. She barely noticed the money was gone. After one year, she had saved $1,040. When her refrigerator broke the next spring, she paid for the repair in cash.

(6) Jasmine's method uses two ideas that researchers who study saving have found helpful. The first is automation. When saving happens automatically, it no longer depends on willpower, because the money is moved before it can be spent. This approach is sometimes called "paying yourself first." The second idea is separation. Money kept in a separate account, especially one without a debit card attached, is less likely to be spent on everyday purchases.

(7) Where should an emergency fund be kept? It should be safe and easy to reach, but not too easy. A savings account at a bank insured by the FDIC or at a credit union insured by the NCUA is protected up to $250,000 per depositor, per institution, for each type of account ownership. Some online savings accounts also pay more interest than traditional accounts. An emergency fund should not be invested in something whose value can drop, such as stocks, because an emergency rarely waits for the market to recover.

(8) Building an emergency fund is not glamorous. It will not make anyone rich. But a few hundred dollars set aside today can be the difference between a bad day and a bad year.

(1) Imagine that your car will not start on a Monday morning. The mechanic says the repair will cost $400. How would you pay for it?

(2) For many Americans, that question has no easy answer. Each year, the Federal Reserve surveys thousands of adults about their finances. In recent years, more than a third of them have said they could not cover a surprise $400 expense with cash or its equivalent. Instead, they would put it on a credit card and pay it off over time, borrow from family or friends, take out a loan, sell something, or not be able to pay at all.

(3) This matters because a small emergency can quickly become a big one when it is paid for with expensive borrowing. Consider a payday loan, a short-term loan that is usually due on the borrower's next payday. A typical payday lender charges a fee of about $15 for every $100 borrowed for two weeks. Borrowing $400 would cost $60. That may not sound like much. But if the borrower cannot repay on time and renews the loan four times, the fees add up to $300, and the borrower still owes the original $400. Measured as a yearly rate, a fee of $15 per $100 every two weeks works out to almost 400 percent. By comparison, the average interest rate on credit cards, which are themselves considered an expensive way to borrow, has been around 20 to 25 percent in recent years.

(4) The best protection against this trap is an emergency fund: money set aside only for unexpected costs, such as car repairs, medical bills or a sudden drop in work hours. Financial advisers often recommend saving enough to cover three to six months of expenses. For a family living paycheck to paycheck, that goal can feel impossible, and people who believe a goal is out of reach often never start. That is why many experts now suggest beginning with a smaller target, such as $500 or $1,000, which is enough to handle many common emergencies.

(5) Consider a home health aide we will call Jasmine. Two years ago, a $600 dental bill forced her to take out a payday loan, and it took her four months to get out from under the fees. Afterward, she set up an automatic transfer of $20 from each weekly paycheck into a separate savings account. She barely noticed the money was gone. After one year, she had saved $1,040. When her refrigerator broke the next spring, she paid for the repair in cash.

(6) Jasmine's method uses two ideas that researchers who study saving have found helpful. The first is automation. When saving happens automatically, it no longer depends on willpower, because the money is moved before it can be spent. This approach is sometimes called "paying yourself first." The second idea is separation. Money kept in a separate account, especially one without a debit card attached, is less likely to be spent on everyday purchases.

(7) Where should an emergency fund be kept? It should be safe and easy to reach, but not too easy. A savings account at a bank insured by the FDIC or at a credit union insured by the NCUA is protected up to $250,000 per depositor, per institution, for each type of account ownership. Some online savings accounts also pay more interest than traditional accounts. An emergency fund should not be invested in something whose value can drop, such as stocks, because an emergency rarely waits for the market to recover.

(8) Building an emergency fund is not glamorous. It will not make anyone rich. But a few hundred dollars set aside today can be the difference between a bad day and a bad year.

(1) Imagine that your car will not start on a Monday morning. The mechanic says the repair will cost $400. How would you pay for it?

(2) For many Americans, that question has no easy answer. Each year, the Federal Reserve surveys thousands of adults about their finances. In recent years, more than a third of them have said they could not cover a surprise $400 expense with cash or its equivalent. Instead, they would put it on a credit card and pay it off over time, borrow from family or friends, take out a loan, sell something, or not be able to pay at all.

(3) This matters because a small emergency can quickly become a big one when it is paid for with expensive borrowing. Consider a payday loan, a short-term loan that is usually due on the borrower's next payday. A typical payday lender charges a fee of about $15 for every $100 borrowed for two weeks. Borrowing $400 would cost $60. That may not sound like much. But if the borrower cannot repay on time and renews the loan four times, the fees add up to $300, and the borrower still owes the original $400. Measured as a yearly rate, a fee of $15 per $100 every two weeks works out to almost 400 percent. By comparison, the average interest rate on credit cards, which are themselves considered an expensive way to borrow, has been around 20 to 25 percent in recent years.

(4) The best protection against this trap is an emergency fund: money set aside only for unexpected costs, such as car repairs, medical bills or a sudden drop in work hours. Financial advisers often recommend saving enough to cover three to six months of expenses. For a family living paycheck to paycheck, that goal can feel impossible, and people who believe a goal is out of reach often never start. That is why many experts now suggest beginning with a smaller target, such as $500 or $1,000, which is enough to handle many common emergencies.

(5) Consider a home health aide we will call Jasmine. Two years ago, a $600 dental bill forced her to take out a payday loan, and it took her four months to get out from under the fees. Afterward, she set up an automatic transfer of $20 from each weekly paycheck into a separate savings account. She barely noticed the money was gone. After one year, she had saved $1,040. When her refrigerator broke the next spring, she paid for the repair in cash.

(6) Jasmine's method uses two ideas that researchers who study saving have found helpful. The first is automation. When saving happens automatically, it no longer depends on willpower, because the money is moved before it can be spent. This approach is sometimes called "paying yourself first." The second idea is separation. Money kept in a separate account, especially one without a debit card attached, is less likely to be spent on everyday purchases.

(7) Where should an emergency fund be kept? It should be safe and easy to reach, but not too easy. A savings account at a bank insured by the FDIC or at a credit union insured by the NCUA is protected up to $250,000 per depositor, per institution, for each type of account ownership. Some online savings accounts also pay more interest than traditional accounts. An emergency fund should not be invested in something whose value can drop, such as stocks, because an emergency rarely waits for the market to recover.

(8) Building an emergency fund is not glamorous. It will not make anyone rich. But a few hundred dollars set aside today can be the difference between a bad day and a bad year.

(1) The young woman behind the glass at the credit union could not have been older than twenty-five. She looked at the payment slip, then at Arturo, then at the slip again, as if a man paying off a loan in person, with a money order, was something she had only read about in training.

(2) "This is your final payment, Mr. Delgado," she said. "Would you like us to mail you the paperwork, or would you like to wait while I print a lien release?"

(3) "I'll wait," he said.

(4) He sat in one of the low chairs by the window, holding his cap on his knee, and looked out at the parking lot, where the truck sat in the second row like an old dog waiting outside a store. It had been white once. Now the hood was the color of weak coffee where the paint had worn thin. One hundred ninety-one thousand miles. Sixty payments.

(5) Five years ago, he had stood in a different line, at a used-car lot on Route 6, with his wife, Lupe, beside him and his old truck dead in their driveway at home. He needed a truck for the landscaping jobs, and the landscaping jobs were the only jobs there were that spring. The salesman talked fast. The interest rate on the loan he offered was so high that Lupe took Arturo by the elbow and walked him out of the office. "We'll go to the credit union," she said. "We'll wait the extra week."

(6) He had not wanted to wait. A week without a truck was a week without work. But Lupe had been right, as she usually was about numbers, and the credit union loan had cost them more than two thousand dollars less over five years. Every month since then, on the first, he had driven here and paid in person. Lupe told him he could set up automatic payments like everyone else. He told her he liked to see the money go.

(7) That was not exactly true. What he liked was the moment after, walking out to the truck knowing that one more piece of it was his. Sixty times he had felt that. He had felt it the month after his back surgery, when Lupe drove him here because he could not drive himself. He had felt it the winter there was no work at all, when they ate rice and beans for most of February so the payment would not be late.

(8) "Mr. Delgado?" The young woman slid a sheet of paper through the slot under the glass. "Here's your lien release. The title will come in the mail in a few weeks. Congratulations."

(9) He read it standing at the counter. LIEN RELEASED. Two words, the second one in capital letters as if it were shouting. He folded the paper in thirds, put it in the inside pocket of his jacket, the one with the button, and buttoned it.

(10) "Big plans now that it's paid off?" she asked. She was being polite. A line was forming behind him.

(11) He thought about it. He thought about the $312 that would now stay in the account on the first of every month. He thought about Lupe's sister's wedding in Tucson, which they had said they could not afford, and the dentist Lupe kept putting off, and the new tires the truck needed anyway.

(12) "My wife will have plans," he said. "I'll drive."

(13) She laughed, and he laughed, and he put on his cap and went out into the bright, cold morning. The truck started on the second try, the way it always did. He sat for a minute with the engine running and his hand flat on the dashboard. Then he took out his phone and called home.

(14) "It's done," he said when Lupe answered.

(15) There was a pause on the line, and then he heard her let out a long breath, the kind of breath a person holds for five years. "Come home," she said. "I'll make coffee."

(1) The young woman behind the glass at the credit union could not have been older than twenty-five. She looked at the payment slip, then at Arturo, then at the slip again, as if a man paying off a loan in person, with a money order, was something she had only read about in training.

(2) "This is your final payment, Mr. Delgado," she said. "Would you like us to mail you the paperwork, or would you like to wait while I print a lien release?"

(3) "I'll wait," he said.

(4) He sat in one of the low chairs by the window, holding his cap on his knee, and looked out at the parking lot, where the truck sat in the second row like an old dog waiting outside a store. It had been white once. Now the hood was the color of weak coffee where the paint had worn thin. One hundred ninety-one thousand miles. Sixty payments.

(5) Five years ago, he had stood in a different line, at a used-car lot on Route 6, with his wife, Lupe, beside him and his old truck dead in their driveway at home. He needed a truck for the landscaping jobs, and the landscaping jobs were the only jobs there were that spring. The salesman talked fast. The interest rate on the loan he offered was so high that Lupe took Arturo by the elbow and walked him out of the office. "We'll go to the credit union," she said. "We'll wait the extra week."

(6) He had not wanted to wait. A week without a truck was a week without work. But Lupe had been right, as she usually was about numbers, and the credit union loan had cost them more than two thousand dollars less over five years. Every month since then, on the first, he had driven here and paid in person. Lupe told him he could set up automatic payments like everyone else. He told her he liked to see the money go.

(7) That was not exactly true. What he liked was the moment after, walking out to the truck knowing that one more piece of it was his. Sixty times he had felt that. He had felt it the month after his back surgery, when Lupe drove him here because he could not drive himself. He had felt it the winter there was no work at all, when they ate rice and beans for most of February so the payment would not be late.

(8) "Mr. Delgado?" The young woman slid a sheet of paper through the slot under the glass. "Here's your lien release. The title will come in the mail in a few weeks. Congratulations."

(9) He read it standing at the counter. LIEN RELEASED. Two words, the second one in capital letters as if it were shouting. He folded the paper in thirds, put it in the inside pocket of his jacket, the one with the button, and buttoned it.

(10) "Big plans now that it's paid off?" she asked. She was being polite. A line was forming behind him.

(11) He thought about it. He thought about the $312 that would now stay in the account on the first of every month. He thought about Lupe's sister's wedding in Tucson, which they had said they could not afford, and the dentist Lupe kept putting off, and the new tires the truck needed anyway.

(12) "My wife will have plans," he said. "I'll drive."

(13) She laughed, and he laughed, and he put on his cap and went out into the bright, cold morning. The truck started on the second try, the way it always did. He sat for a minute with the engine running and his hand flat on the dashboard. Then he took out his phone and called home.

(14) "It's done," he said when Lupe answered.

(15) There was a pause on the line, and then he heard her let out a long breath, the kind of breath a person holds for five years. "Come home," she said. "I'll make coffee."

(1) The young woman behind the glass at the credit union could not have been older than twenty-five. She looked at the payment slip, then at Arturo, then at the slip again, as if a man paying off a loan in person, with a money order, was something she had only read about in training.

(2) "This is your final payment, Mr. Delgado," she said. "Would you like us to mail you the paperwork, or would you like to wait while I print a lien release?"

(3) "I'll wait," he said.

(4) He sat in one of the low chairs by the window, holding his cap on his knee, and looked out at the parking lot, where the truck sat in the second row like an old dog waiting outside a store. It had been white once. Now the hood was the color of weak coffee where the paint had worn thin. One hundred ninety-one thousand miles. Sixty payments.

(5) Five years ago, he had stood in a different line, at a used-car lot on Route 6, with his wife, Lupe, beside him and his old truck dead in their driveway at home. He needed a truck for the landscaping jobs, and the landscaping jobs were the only jobs there were that spring. The salesman talked fast. The interest rate on the loan he offered was so high that Lupe took Arturo by the elbow and walked him out of the office. "We'll go to the credit union," she said. "We'll wait the extra week."

(6) He had not wanted to wait. A week without a truck was a week without work. But Lupe had been right, as she usually was about numbers, and the credit union loan had cost them more than two thousand dollars less over five years. Every month since then, on the first, he had driven here and paid in person. Lupe told him he could set up automatic payments like everyone else. He told her he liked to see the money go.

(7) That was not exactly true. What he liked was the moment after, walking out to the truck knowing that one more piece of it was his. Sixty times he had felt that. He had felt it the month after his back surgery, when Lupe drove him here because he could not drive himself. He had felt it the winter there was no work at all, when they ate rice and beans for most of February so the payment would not be late.

(8) "Mr. Delgado?" The young woman slid a sheet of paper through the slot under the glass. "Here's your lien release. The title will come in the mail in a few weeks. Congratulations."

(9) He read it standing at the counter. LIEN RELEASED. Two words, the second one in capital letters as if it were shouting. He folded the paper in thirds, put it in the inside pocket of his jacket, the one with the button, and buttoned it.

(10) "Big plans now that it's paid off?" she asked. She was being polite. A line was forming behind him.

(11) He thought about it. He thought about the $312 that would now stay in the account on the first of every month. He thought about Lupe's sister's wedding in Tucson, which they had said they could not afford, and the dentist Lupe kept putting off, and the new tires the truck needed anyway.

(12) "My wife will have plans," he said. "I'll drive."

(13) She laughed, and he laughed, and he put on his cap and went out into the bright, cold morning. The truck started on the second try, the way it always did. He sat for a minute with the engine running and his hand flat on the dashboard. Then he took out his phone and called home.

(14) "It's done," he said when Lupe answered.

(15) There was a pause on the line, and then he heard her let out a long breath, the kind of breath a person holds for five years. "Come home," she said. "I'll make coffee."

(1) The young woman behind the glass at the credit union could not have been older than twenty-five. She looked at the payment slip, then at Arturo, then at the slip again, as if a man paying off a loan in person, with a money order, was something she had only read about in training.

(2) "This is your final payment, Mr. Delgado," she said. "Would you like us to mail you the paperwork, or would you like to wait while I print a lien release?"

(3) "I'll wait," he said.

(4) He sat in one of the low chairs by the window, holding his cap on his knee, and looked out at the parking lot, where the truck sat in the second row like an old dog waiting outside a store. It had been white once. Now the hood was the color of weak coffee where the paint had worn thin. One hundred ninety-one thousand miles. Sixty payments.

(5) Five years ago, he had stood in a different line, at a used-car lot on Route 6, with his wife, Lupe, beside him and his old truck dead in their driveway at home. He needed a truck for the landscaping jobs, and the landscaping jobs were the only jobs there were that spring. The salesman talked fast. The interest rate on the loan he offered was so high that Lupe took Arturo by the elbow and walked him out of the office. "We'll go to the credit union," she said. "We'll wait the extra week."

(6) He had not wanted to wait. A week without a truck was a week without work. But Lupe had been right, as she usually was about numbers, and the credit union loan had cost them more than two thousand dollars less over five years. Every month since then, on the first, he had driven here and paid in person. Lupe told him he could set up automatic payments like everyone else. He told her he liked to see the money go.

(7) That was not exactly true. What he liked was the moment after, walking out to the truck knowing that one more piece of it was his. Sixty times he had felt that. He had felt it the month after his back surgery, when Lupe drove him here because he could not drive himself. He had felt it the winter there was no work at all, when they ate rice and beans for most of February so the payment would not be late.

(8) "Mr. Delgado?" The young woman slid a sheet of paper through the slot under the glass. "Here's your lien release. The title will come in the mail in a few weeks. Congratulations."

(9) He read it standing at the counter. LIEN RELEASED. Two words, the second one in capital letters as if it were shouting. He folded the paper in thirds, put it in the inside pocket of his jacket, the one with the button, and buttoned it.

(10) "Big plans now that it's paid off?" she asked. She was being polite. A line was forming behind him.

(11) He thought about it. He thought about the $312 that would now stay in the account on the first of every month. He thought about Lupe's sister's wedding in Tucson, which they had said they could not afford, and the dentist Lupe kept putting off, and the new tires the truck needed anyway.

(12) "My wife will have plans," he said. "I'll drive."

(13) She laughed, and he laughed, and he put on his cap and went out into the bright, cold morning. The truck started on the second try, the way it always did. He sat for a minute with the engine running and his hand flat on the dashboard. Then he took out his phone and called home.

(14) "It's done," he said when Lupe answered.

(15) There was a pause on the line, and then he heard her let out a long breath, the kind of breath a person holds for five years. "Come home," she said. "I'll make coffee."

(1) The young woman behind the glass at the credit union could not have been older than twenty-five. She looked at the payment slip, then at Arturo, then at the slip again, as if a man paying off a loan in person, with a money order, was something she had only read about in training.

(2) "This is your final payment, Mr. Delgado," she said. "Would you like us to mail you the paperwork, or would you like to wait while I print a lien release?"

(3) "I'll wait," he said.

(4) He sat in one of the low chairs by the window, holding his cap on his knee, and looked out at the parking lot, where the truck sat in the second row like an old dog waiting outside a store. It had been white once. Now the hood was the color of weak coffee where the paint had worn thin. One hundred ninety-one thousand miles. Sixty payments.

(5) Five years ago, he had stood in a different line, at a used-car lot on Route 6, with his wife, Lupe, beside him and his old truck dead in their driveway at home. He needed a truck for the landscaping jobs, and the landscaping jobs were the only jobs there were that spring. The salesman talked fast. The interest rate on the loan he offered was so high that Lupe took Arturo by the elbow and walked him out of the office. "We'll go to the credit union," she said. "We'll wait the extra week."

(6) He had not wanted to wait. A week without a truck was a week without work. But Lupe had been right, as she usually was about numbers, and the credit union loan had cost them more than two thousand dollars less over five years. Every month since then, on the first, he had driven here and paid in person. Lupe told him he could set up automatic payments like everyone else. He told her he liked to see the money go.

(7) That was not exactly true. What he liked was the moment after, walking out to the truck knowing that one more piece of it was his. Sixty times he had felt that. He had felt it the month after his back surgery, when Lupe drove him here because he could not drive himself. He had felt it the winter there was no work at all, when they ate rice and beans for most of February so the payment would not be late.

(8) "Mr. Delgado?" The young woman slid a sheet of paper through the slot under the glass. "Here's your lien release. The title will come in the mail in a few weeks. Congratulations."

(9) He read it standing at the counter. LIEN RELEASED. Two words, the second one in capital letters as if it were shouting. He folded the paper in thirds, put it in the inside pocket of his jacket, the one with the button, and buttoned it.

(10) "Big plans now that it's paid off?" she asked. She was being polite. A line was forming behind him.

(11) He thought about it. He thought about the $312 that would now stay in the account on the first of every month. He thought about Lupe's sister's wedding in Tucson, which they had said they could not afford, and the dentist Lupe kept putting off, and the new tires the truck needed anyway.

(12) "My wife will have plans," he said. "I'll drive."

(13) She laughed, and he laughed, and he put on his cap and went out into the bright, cold morning. The truck started on the second try, the way it always did. He sat for a minute with the engine running and his hand flat on the dashboard. Then he took out his phone and called home.

(14) "It's done," he said when Lupe answered.

(15) There was a pause on the line, and then he heard her let out a long breath, the kind of breath a person holds for five years. "Come home," she said. "I'll make coffee."