Comparing two or more texts

Text 1 — Let Teens Sleep

By Carla Mendez, a fictional school nurse at Lakeview High School

(1) Every morning, I see the same thing in my office: students with headaches, students who can barely keep their eyes open, students who skipped breakfast to catch a 6:40 a.m. bus. Lakeview High School starts at 7:15 a.m. That is simply too early.

(2) Teenagers are not lazy. During the teen years, the body's internal clock shifts, so most teens do not feel sleepy until about 11 p.m. A teen who falls asleep at 11 and wakes at 6 gets only seven hours of sleep, less than the eight to ten hours that doctors recommend for this age group.

(3) Nearby Cedar Falls moved its high school start time from 7:30 to 8:30 two years ago. Since then, the district reports that first-period tardiness has dropped by a third and attendance has risen. Our students deserve the same chance.

(4) The school board should move Lakeview's start time one hour later, to 8:15 a.m., beginning next fall.

Text 2 — The Hidden Costs of a Later Bell

By Tom Kessler, a fictional transportation director for Lakeview Schools

(1) No one disputes that teenagers need more sleep. But moving the high school start time is not as simple as changing a number on a schedule.

(2) Lakeview uses the same 42 buses for its high school, middle school, and elementary schools. The high school route runs first. If the high school starts an hour later, either the elementary schools must start earlier, putting young children at bus stops in the dark, or the district must buy and staff more buses. Our estimate for 14 additional buses and drivers is about $1.2 million a year.

(3) A later start also means a later end. Students would leave at 3:45 instead of 2:45, cutting into after-school jobs that many families rely on and pushing sports practices past sunset in winter.

(4) Cedar Falls is often held up as a model, but it is a district of 1,800 students with a separate bus fleet for each school. What worked there may not work here. Before the board votes, it should study how a change would affect every family in the district, not just high school students.

Text 1 — Let Teens Sleep

By Carla Mendez, a fictional school nurse at Lakeview High School

(1) Every morning, I see the same thing in my office: students with headaches, students who can barely keep their eyes open, students who skipped breakfast to catch a 6:40 a.m. bus. Lakeview High School starts at 7:15 a.m. That is simply too early.

(2) Teenagers are not lazy. During the teen years, the body's internal clock shifts, so most teens do not feel sleepy until about 11 p.m. A teen who falls asleep at 11 and wakes at 6 gets only seven hours of sleep, less than the eight to ten hours that doctors recommend for this age group.

(3) Nearby Cedar Falls moved its high school start time from 7:30 to 8:30 two years ago. Since then, the district reports that first-period tardiness has dropped by a third and attendance has risen. Our students deserve the same chance.

(4) The school board should move Lakeview's start time one hour later, to 8:15 a.m., beginning next fall.

Text 2 — The Hidden Costs of a Later Bell

By Tom Kessler, a fictional transportation director for Lakeview Schools

(1) No one disputes that teenagers need more sleep. But moving the high school start time is not as simple as changing a number on a schedule.

(2) Lakeview uses the same 42 buses for its high school, middle school, and elementary schools. The high school route runs first. If the high school starts an hour later, either the elementary schools must start earlier, putting young children at bus stops in the dark, or the district must buy and staff more buses. Our estimate for 14 additional buses and drivers is about $1.2 million a year.

(3) A later start also means a later end. Students would leave at 3:45 instead of 2:45, cutting into after-school jobs that many families rely on and pushing sports practices past sunset in winter.

(4) Cedar Falls is often held up as a model, but it is a district of 1,800 students with a separate bus fleet for each school. What worked there may not work here. Before the board votes, it should study how a change would affect every family in the district, not just high school students.

Text 1

From a report by the director of the Oakdale Parks Department, a fictional city agency

(1) Oakdale's four grass soccer fields at Riverside Park are among the busiest in the county, and they are wearing out. Last year, the fields were closed an average of 38 days because of rain and mud, forcing youth leagues to cancel games and squeeze practices into the remaining days.

(2) I recommend replacing two of the four fields with modern artificial turf. Turf drains quickly and can be used in almost any weather, so the department could schedule about three times as many hours of play on each field. Installing turf on two fields would cost about $1.8 million. In return, the department would save about $45,000 a year in mowing, watering, and fertilizer, and about 2 million gallons of water each summer.

(3) Parents often ask whether turf is safe. A review of injury studies published by the National Youth Sports Safety Board, a fictional organization, found that overall injury rates on modern turf and on grass were similar. Players on turf had somewhat more skin scrapes, often called "turf burns," while players on muddy grass had somewhat more ankle sprains. Based on this review, turf is just as safe as grass.

(4) With turf, Oakdale's young athletes can spend their seasons playing instead of waiting for fields to dry.

Text 2

A letter to the Oakdale City Council from a resident who works as a pediatric nurse

(5) I share the frustration of every parent who has driven to Riverside Park only to find a "Field Closed" sign. The fields are closed far too often. But artificial turf is the wrong fix.

(6) First, turf gets hot. Last July, on an 86-degree afternoon, a teacher at Lincoln Middle School measured the surface of the school's turf field at 141 degrees. The grass field next to it measured 92 degrees. Children playing on surfaces that hot are at risk of burns and heat illness.

(7) Second, the parks director says turf is "just as safe," but the review he cites tells a more complicated story. Yes, overall injury rates were similar. But the review also found more skin scrapes on turf, and in my work I treat scrapes that become infected. The review's authors also noted that most of the studies involved high school and college athletes, not the young children who use Riverside Park most.

(8) Third, turf does not last forever. Most turf fields must be replaced every eight to ten years, at a cost of about $600,000 per field, and the old turf usually ends up in a landfill.

(9) There is a better option. A drainage consultant hired by the city last year estimated that rebuilding the drainage under all four grass fields would cost about $400,000 and would sharply reduce the number of days the fields are closed. Let's fix the fields we have.

Text 1 — Let Teens Sleep

By Carla Mendez, a fictional school nurse at Lakeview High School

(1) Every morning, I see the same thing in my office: students with headaches, students who can barely keep their eyes open, students who skipped breakfast to catch a 6:40 a.m. bus. Lakeview High School starts at 7:15 a.m. That is simply too early.

(2) Teenagers are not lazy. During the teen years, the body's internal clock shifts, so most teens do not feel sleepy until about 11 p.m. A teen who falls asleep at 11 and wakes at 6 gets only seven hours of sleep, less than the eight to ten hours that doctors recommend for this age group.

(3) Nearby Cedar Falls moved its high school start time from 7:30 to 8:30 two years ago. Since then, the district reports that first-period tardiness has dropped by a third and attendance has risen. Our students deserve the same chance.

(4) The school board should move Lakeview's start time one hour later, to 8:15 a.m., beginning next fall.

Text 2 — The Hidden Costs of a Later Bell

By Tom Kessler, a fictional transportation director for Lakeview Schools

(1) No one disputes that teenagers need more sleep. But moving the high school start time is not as simple as changing a number on a schedule.

(2) Lakeview uses the same 42 buses for its high school, middle school, and elementary schools. The high school route runs first. If the high school starts an hour later, either the elementary schools must start earlier, putting young children at bus stops in the dark, or the district must buy and staff more buses. Our estimate for 14 additional buses and drivers is about $1.2 million a year.

(3) A later start also means a later end. Students would leave at 3:45 instead of 2:45, cutting into after-school jobs that many families rely on and pushing sports practices past sunset in winter.

(4) Cedar Falls is often held up as a model, but it is a district of 1,800 students with a separate bus fleet for each school. What worked there may not work here. Before the board votes, it should study how a change would affect every family in the district, not just high school students.

A press release from the office of the mayor of Granton, a fictional city, followed by a graph of city ridership data

(1) Six months ago, Granton became one of the first cities in the region to let riders board city buses for free. Before the pilot, ridership on Granton's buses had changed little for several years. The results since then are in, and they are remarkable.

(2) "Fare-free buses have been a runaway success," said a spokesperson for the mayor's office. "Ridership is up more than 40 percent since the pilot began."

(3) The pilot, which began on July 1, removed the $1.75 fare on all 14 city bus routes. The city estimates that the change costs about $2.1 million a year in lost fares. That cost is covered by a state transportation grant through next June. Drivers also report that buses now load faster, because riders no longer stop to pay at the fare box, which helps buses stay on schedule during the morning rush.

(4) Riders say the change has made a real difference in their lives. One rider, a home health aide who takes two buses to reach her clients, said she now saves more than $60 a month. Students at Granton Community College, which opened its fall semester in early September, have also praised the program. "I used to skip the bus and walk two miles to save money," one student said. "Now I ride every day."

(5) City officials also say that fare-free buses are easing traffic downtown, as more drivers leave their cars at home. The city has not yet released traffic counts for the downtown area. The mayor will ask the city council to make the program permanent when the grant ends.

Source: Granton Transit Department ridership counts (fictional data).

A press release from the office of the mayor of Granton, a fictional city, followed by a graph of city ridership data

(1) Six months ago, Granton became one of the first cities in the region to let riders board city buses for free. Before the pilot, ridership on Granton's buses had changed little for several years. The results since then are in, and they are remarkable.

(2) "Fare-free buses have been a runaway success," said a spokesperson for the mayor's office. "Ridership is up more than 40 percent since the pilot began."

(3) The pilot, which began on July 1, removed the $1.75 fare on all 14 city bus routes. The city estimates that the change costs about $2.1 million a year in lost fares. That cost is covered by a state transportation grant through next June. Drivers also report that buses now load faster, because riders no longer stop to pay at the fare box, which helps buses stay on schedule during the morning rush.

(4) Riders say the change has made a real difference in their lives. One rider, a home health aide who takes two buses to reach her clients, said she now saves more than $60 a month. Students at Granton Community College, which opened its fall semester in early September, have also praised the program. "I used to skip the bus and walk two miles to save money," one student said. "Now I ride every day."

(5) City officials also say that fare-free buses are easing traffic downtown, as more drivers leave their cars at home. The city has not yet released traffic counts for the downtown area. The mayor will ask the city council to make the program permanent when the grant ends.

Source: Granton Transit Department ridership counts (fictional data).

Text 1 — Lane Four

From a personal essay by Rosa Delgado, a fictional grocery cashier

(1) For nineteen years, I worked lane four at Hanley's Market. I knew which customers wanted paper bags and which ones wanted to talk about their grandchildren. I knew that Mr. Okafor bought the same three things every Tuesday (bananas, oatmeal, and a newspaper) and that if he didn't come in, someone should check on him. Once, someone did.

(2) Last spring, the store replaced lanes three through six with eight self-checkout machines. The managers told us no one would lose a job, and technically no one did. Two of us were moved to stocking shelves at night. I became the "self-checkout attendant," which means I stand near the machines and wait for one of them to flash a red light.

(3) "Unexpected item in bagging area," the machine says, and I walk over and wave my badge. I do this perhaps two hundred times a day. Customers apologize to me, as if it were their fault. Some of them still ask how my daughter is doing. But most of them look at the screen, not at me, and they are gone before I can say hello.

(4) I do not think the machines are evil. They are fast, and some people prefer them. I only wonder what a store loses when no one notices that Mr. Okafor didn't come in on Tuesday.

Text 2 — Self-Checkout Grows, but Stores Rethink the Mix

An informational article. The trade group and survey described are fictional.

(1) Self-checkout machines have become a common sight in American grocery stores. Stores like them because one attendant can oversee several machines, which can lower labor costs and shorten lines during busy hours.

(2) But the technology has trade-offs. In a survey of 120 member stores by the Midwest Grocers Council, a regional trade group, 64 percent of managers said self-checkout had reduced wait times. At the same time, 41 percent reported that losses from items leaving the store unpaid, whether through theft or honest scanning mistakes, had risen since the machines were installed.

(3) Customer opinions are mixed as well. The same survey found that shoppers buying a few items generally preferred self-checkout, while shoppers with full carts, older shoppers, and shoppers paying with cash were more likely to choose a cashier.

(4) As a result, some stores are adjusting. Several council members have limited self-checkout to customers with 15 items or fewer, and a few have brought back staffed lanes during evening hours. "It's not all or nothing," said the council's director. "Stores are learning that the right mix depends on who their customers are."

Text 1

From a report by the director of the Oakdale Parks Department, a fictional city agency

(1) Oakdale's four grass soccer fields at Riverside Park are among the busiest in the county, and they are wearing out. Last year, the fields were closed an average of 38 days because of rain and mud, forcing youth leagues to cancel games and squeeze practices into the remaining days.

(2) I recommend replacing two of the four fields with modern artificial turf. Turf drains quickly and can be used in almost any weather, so the department could schedule about three times as many hours of play on each field. Installing turf on two fields would cost about $1.8 million. In return, the department would save about $45,000 a year in mowing, watering, and fertilizer, and about 2 million gallons of water each summer.

(3) Parents often ask whether turf is safe. A review of injury studies published by the National Youth Sports Safety Board, a fictional organization, found that overall injury rates on modern turf and on grass were similar. Players on turf had somewhat more skin scrapes, often called "turf burns," while players on muddy grass had somewhat more ankle sprains. Based on this review, turf is just as safe as grass.

(4) With turf, Oakdale's young athletes can spend their seasons playing instead of waiting for fields to dry.

Text 2

A letter to the Oakdale City Council from a resident who works as a pediatric nurse

(5) I share the frustration of every parent who has driven to Riverside Park only to find a "Field Closed" sign. The fields are closed far too often. But artificial turf is the wrong fix.

(6) First, turf gets hot. Last July, on an 86-degree afternoon, a teacher at Lincoln Middle School measured the surface of the school's turf field at 141 degrees. The grass field next to it measured 92 degrees. Children playing on surfaces that hot are at risk of burns and heat illness.

(7) Second, the parks director says turf is "just as safe," but the review he cites tells a more complicated story. Yes, overall injury rates were similar. But the review also found more skin scrapes on turf, and in my work I treat scrapes that become infected. The review's authors also noted that most of the studies involved high school and college athletes, not the young children who use Riverside Park most.

(8) Third, turf does not last forever. Most turf fields must be replaced every eight to ten years, at a cost of about $600,000 per field, and the old turf usually ends up in a landfill.

(9) There is a better option. A drainage consultant hired by the city last year estimated that rebuilding the drainage under all four grass fields would cost about $400,000 and would sharply reduce the number of days the fields are closed. Let's fix the fields we have.

Text 1

From a report by the director of the Oakdale Parks Department, a fictional city agency

(1) Oakdale's four grass soccer fields at Riverside Park are among the busiest in the county, and they are wearing out. Last year, the fields were closed an average of 38 days because of rain and mud, forcing youth leagues to cancel games and squeeze practices into the remaining days.

(2) I recommend replacing two of the four fields with modern artificial turf. Turf drains quickly and can be used in almost any weather, so the department could schedule about three times as many hours of play on each field. Installing turf on two fields would cost about $1.8 million. In return, the department would save about $45,000 a year in mowing, watering, and fertilizer, and about 2 million gallons of water each summer.

(3) Parents often ask whether turf is safe. A review of injury studies published by the National Youth Sports Safety Board, a fictional organization, found that overall injury rates on modern turf and on grass were similar. Players on turf had somewhat more skin scrapes, often called "turf burns," while players on muddy grass had somewhat more ankle sprains. Based on this review, turf is just as safe as grass.

(4) With turf, Oakdale's young athletes can spend their seasons playing instead of waiting for fields to dry.

Text 2

A letter to the Oakdale City Council from a resident who works as a pediatric nurse

(5) I share the frustration of every parent who has driven to Riverside Park only to find a "Field Closed" sign. The fields are closed far too often. But artificial turf is the wrong fix.

(6) First, turf gets hot. Last July, on an 86-degree afternoon, a teacher at Lincoln Middle School measured the surface of the school's turf field at 141 degrees. The grass field next to it measured 92 degrees. Children playing on surfaces that hot are at risk of burns and heat illness.

(7) Second, the parks director says turf is "just as safe," but the review he cites tells a more complicated story. Yes, overall injury rates were similar. But the review also found more skin scrapes on turf, and in my work I treat scrapes that become infected. The review's authors also noted that most of the studies involved high school and college athletes, not the young children who use Riverside Park most.

(8) Third, turf does not last forever. Most turf fields must be replaced every eight to ten years, at a cost of about $600,000 per field, and the old turf usually ends up in a landfill.

(9) There is a better option. A drainage consultant hired by the city last year estimated that rebuilding the drainage under all four grass fields would cost about $400,000 and would sharply reduce the number of days the fields are closed. Let's fix the fields we have.

Text 1

From a report by the director of the Oakdale Parks Department, a fictional city agency

(1) Oakdale's four grass soccer fields at Riverside Park are among the busiest in the county, and they are wearing out. Last year, the fields were closed an average of 38 days because of rain and mud, forcing youth leagues to cancel games and squeeze practices into the remaining days.

(2) I recommend replacing two of the four fields with modern artificial turf. Turf drains quickly and can be used in almost any weather, so the department could schedule about three times as many hours of play on each field. Installing turf on two fields would cost about $1.8 million. In return, the department would save about $45,000 a year in mowing, watering, and fertilizer, and about 2 million gallons of water each summer.

(3) Parents often ask whether turf is safe. A review of injury studies published by the National Youth Sports Safety Board, a fictional organization, found that overall injury rates on modern turf and on grass were similar. Players on turf had somewhat more skin scrapes, often called "turf burns," while players on muddy grass had somewhat more ankle sprains. Based on this review, turf is just as safe as grass.

(4) With turf, Oakdale's young athletes can spend their seasons playing instead of waiting for fields to dry.

Text 2

A letter to the Oakdale City Council from a resident who works as a pediatric nurse

(5) I share the frustration of every parent who has driven to Riverside Park only to find a "Field Closed" sign. The fields are closed far too often. But artificial turf is the wrong fix.

(6) First, turf gets hot. Last July, on an 86-degree afternoon, a teacher at Lincoln Middle School measured the surface of the school's turf field at 141 degrees. The grass field next to it measured 92 degrees. Children playing on surfaces that hot are at risk of burns and heat illness.

(7) Second, the parks director says turf is "just as safe," but the review he cites tells a more complicated story. Yes, overall injury rates were similar. But the review also found more skin scrapes on turf, and in my work I treat scrapes that become infected. The review's authors also noted that most of the studies involved high school and college athletes, not the young children who use Riverside Park most.

(8) Third, turf does not last forever. Most turf fields must be replaced every eight to ten years, at a cost of about $600,000 per field, and the old turf usually ends up in a landfill.

(9) There is a better option. A drainage consultant hired by the city last year estimated that rebuilding the drainage under all four grass fields would cost about $400,000 and would sharply reduce the number of days the fields are closed. Let's fix the fields we have.

Text 1

From an article by Dr. Renee Calloway, a fictional sleep researcher

(1) Twice a year, most Americans change their clocks, and twice a year, millions of us lose sleep. It is time to stop. My recommendation is that the country stay on standard time all year.

(2) Our bodies run on an internal clock that is set mainly by morning light. When we "spring forward" to daylight saving time, sunrise comes an hour later by the clock. For eight months, many people wake up and leave for work or school in the dark, while their internal clocks are still telling them it is night. Over time, this mismatch can leave people short on sleep.

(3) The switch itself also carries risks. Several studies have found that in the days after the spring change, when people lose an hour of sleep, there is a short-term rise in traffic accidents and in hospital visits for heart attacks. Researchers believe lost sleep is the main reason.

(4) Americans are tired of switching, too. In a national poll of 2,000 adults by Ridgeline Research, a fictional polling firm, 63 percent said they would like to stop changing the clocks. Of all the people polled, 38 percent preferred permanent daylight saving time, 25 percent preferred permanent standard time, and 37 percent wanted to keep switching.

(5) Many people assume permanent daylight saving time would be the obvious choice, because it gives us long summer evenings. But it would also mean dark winter mornings in much of the country. Standard time lines our clocks up with the sun. Our health should come first.

Text 2

A letter to the editor from the owner of Putt & Scoop, a fictional mini-golf course and ice cream stand in the town of Maple Bay

(6) I've run Putt & Scoop for nineteen years, and I can tell you what daylight saving time means to a small business like mine: customers. On summer evenings, families come out after dinner and stay until the sun goes down. Sales after 7 p.m. make up nearly a third of my yearly income.

(7) I agree that changing the clocks twice a year is a pain, and it's time to stop. But let's stop on daylight saving time. The biggest poll I've seen, from Ridgeline Research, found that permanent daylight saving time was the most popular choice: 38 percent picked it, more than picked any other option.

(8) Evening daylight is good for more than business. When it stays light until 8 or 9, kids bike home from practice in the daylight, and people get outside to walk, garden, and play. I see it every summer from my front counter.

(9) I know that permanent daylight saving time means dark winter mornings. In Maple Bay, the sun wouldn't rise until about 8:20 in early January. That's a real problem, but schools could start a little later in winter, and kids could wear reflective vests. A little winter darkness in the morning is a fair trade for a lot more life in the evening.

Text 1

From an article by Dr. Renee Calloway, a fictional sleep researcher

(1) Twice a year, most Americans change their clocks, and twice a year, millions of us lose sleep. It is time to stop. My recommendation is that the country stay on standard time all year.

(2) Our bodies run on an internal clock that is set mainly by morning light. When we "spring forward" to daylight saving time, sunrise comes an hour later by the clock. For eight months, many people wake up and leave for work or school in the dark, while their internal clocks are still telling them it is night. Over time, this mismatch can leave people short on sleep.

(3) The switch itself also carries risks. Several studies have found that in the days after the spring change, when people lose an hour of sleep, there is a short-term rise in traffic accidents and in hospital visits for heart attacks. Researchers believe lost sleep is the main reason.

(4) Americans are tired of switching, too. In a national poll of 2,000 adults by Ridgeline Research, a fictional polling firm, 63 percent said they would like to stop changing the clocks. Of all the people polled, 38 percent preferred permanent daylight saving time, 25 percent preferred permanent standard time, and 37 percent wanted to keep switching.

(5) Many people assume permanent daylight saving time would be the obvious choice, because it gives us long summer evenings. But it would also mean dark winter mornings in much of the country. Standard time lines our clocks up with the sun. Our health should come first.

Text 2

A letter to the editor from the owner of Putt & Scoop, a fictional mini-golf course and ice cream stand in the town of Maple Bay

(6) I've run Putt & Scoop for nineteen years, and I can tell you what daylight saving time means to a small business like mine: customers. On summer evenings, families come out after dinner and stay until the sun goes down. Sales after 7 p.m. make up nearly a third of my yearly income.

(7) I agree that changing the clocks twice a year is a pain, and it's time to stop. But let's stop on daylight saving time. The biggest poll I've seen, from Ridgeline Research, found that permanent daylight saving time was the most popular choice: 38 percent picked it, more than picked any other option.

(8) Evening daylight is good for more than business. When it stays light until 8 or 9, kids bike home from practice in the daylight, and people get outside to walk, garden, and play. I see it every summer from my front counter.

(9) I know that permanent daylight saving time means dark winter mornings. In Maple Bay, the sun wouldn't rise until about 8:20 in early January. That's a real problem, but schools could start a little later in winter, and kids could wear reflective vests. A little winter darkness in the morning is a fair trade for a lot more life in the evening.

A post on the website of a member of the Lakeport City Council, a fictional city, followed by a graph from the Lakeport Traffic Department

(1) One year ago, Lakeport installed speed cameras at 10 of its most dangerous intersections. I fought hard for those cameras, and now the first full year of results is in.

(2) Crashes at camera intersections have dropped by half. And the effect keeps growing: every quarter since the cameras went up has been safer than the one before.

(3) The cameras also pay for themselves. In their first year, they brought in $1.3 million in fines, while installing and running them cost $900,000. Each camera photographs the license plate of any car going more than 10 miles per hour over the speed limit, and the owner receives a $75 ticket by mail. Some residents have called the cameras a money grab, but every extra dollar goes into the city's road safety fund.

(4) The cameras weren't the only change last year. The city also repaved Harbor Road, added new crosswalk signals near three schools, and ran a "Slow Down, Lakeport" ad campaign on buses and billboards across the whole city. Together, these steps show what a city can do when it takes safety seriously.

(5) Parents tell me they now feel comfortable letting their children walk to school. One mother on Bay Street told me her son now walks the six blocks to Jefferson Elementary on his own. That is what success looks like.

(6) Next month, I will ask the council to fund cameras at 20 more intersections. Every month we wait is another month of preventable crashes. I hope you will join me in supporting this plan.

The comparison intersections are 10 Lakeport intersections with similar traffic that did not get cameras. Source: Lakeport Traffic Department crash reports (fictional data).

A post on the website of a member of the Lakeport City Council, a fictional city, followed by a graph from the Lakeport Traffic Department

(1) One year ago, Lakeport installed speed cameras at 10 of its most dangerous intersections. I fought hard for those cameras, and now the first full year of results is in.

(2) Crashes at camera intersections have dropped by half. And the effect keeps growing: every quarter since the cameras went up has been safer than the one before.

(3) The cameras also pay for themselves. In their first year, they brought in $1.3 million in fines, while installing and running them cost $900,000. Each camera photographs the license plate of any car going more than 10 miles per hour over the speed limit, and the owner receives a $75 ticket by mail. Some residents have called the cameras a money grab, but every extra dollar goes into the city's road safety fund.

(4) The cameras weren't the only change last year. The city also repaved Harbor Road, added new crosswalk signals near three schools, and ran a "Slow Down, Lakeport" ad campaign on buses and billboards across the whole city. Together, these steps show what a city can do when it takes safety seriously.

(5) Parents tell me they now feel comfortable letting their children walk to school. One mother on Bay Street told me her son now walks the six blocks to Jefferson Elementary on his own. That is what success looks like.

(6) Next month, I will ask the council to fund cameras at 20 more intersections. Every month we wait is another month of preventable crashes. I hope you will join me in supporting this plan.

The comparison intersections are 10 Lakeport intersections with similar traffic that did not get cameras. Source: Lakeport Traffic Department crash reports (fictional data).

Text 1 — Lane Four

From a personal essay by Rosa Delgado, a fictional grocery cashier

(1) For nineteen years, I worked lane four at Hanley's Market. I knew which customers wanted paper bags and which ones wanted to talk about their grandchildren. I knew that Mr. Okafor bought the same three things every Tuesday (bananas, oatmeal, and a newspaper) and that if he didn't come in, someone should check on him. Once, someone did.

(2) Last spring, the store replaced lanes three through six with eight self-checkout machines. The managers told us no one would lose a job, and technically no one did. Two of us were moved to stocking shelves at night. I became the "self-checkout attendant," which means I stand near the machines and wait for one of them to flash a red light.

(3) "Unexpected item in bagging area," the machine says, and I walk over and wave my badge. I do this perhaps two hundred times a day. Customers apologize to me, as if it were their fault. Some of them still ask how my daughter is doing. But most of them look at the screen, not at me, and they are gone before I can say hello.

(4) I do not think the machines are evil. They are fast, and some people prefer them. I only wonder what a store loses when no one notices that Mr. Okafor didn't come in on Tuesday.

Text 2 — Self-Checkout Grows, but Stores Rethink the Mix

An informational article. The trade group and survey described are fictional.

(1) Self-checkout machines have become a common sight in American grocery stores. Stores like them because one attendant can oversee several machines, which can lower labor costs and shorten lines during busy hours.

(2) But the technology has trade-offs. In a survey of 120 member stores by the Midwest Grocers Council, a regional trade group, 64 percent of managers said self-checkout had reduced wait times. At the same time, 41 percent reported that losses from items leaving the store unpaid, whether through theft or honest scanning mistakes, had risen since the machines were installed.

(3) Customer opinions are mixed as well. The same survey found that shoppers buying a few items generally preferred self-checkout, while shoppers with full carts, older shoppers, and shoppers paying with cash were more likely to choose a cashier.

(4) As a result, some stores are adjusting. Several council members have limited self-checkout to customers with 15 items or fewer, and a few have brought back staffed lanes during evening hours. "It's not all or nothing," said the council's director. "Stores are learning that the right mix depends on who their customers are."

Text 1 — Letter Grades Keep Diners Safe

By Dr. Alan Pierce, fictional director of the Harlan County Health Department

(1) Three years ago, Harlan County began requiring every restaurant to post its most recent inspection grade (A, B, or C) in its front window. The results speak for themselves.

(2) In the year before the grading system began, our inspectors recorded an average of 6.2 critical violations per restaurant inspection. Critical violations are the ones most likely to make people sick, such as keeping food at unsafe temperatures. Last year, that average fell to 4.1, a drop of about one-third.

(3) The reason is simple: grades give restaurants a reason to care. Before, an inspection report sat in a file that few customers ever read. Now, a B in the window can cost a restaurant business, and owners know it. Many have hired food-safety trainers or replaced old refrigerators to earn an A.

(4) Diners deserve to know what is happening in the kitchen before they sit down to eat. Posting grades gives them that information at a glance. Every county in the state should adopt this system.

Text 2 — A Grade Is Only a Snapshot

By Linda Cho, fictional owner of a family restaurant in Harlan County

(1) I want safe food as much as any health inspector does. My own family eats in my restaurant every day. But I have serious doubts about the letter-grade system.

(2) A grade reflects a single visit that may last less than an hour. Last spring, our dishwasher broke during the lunch rush, minutes before the inspector arrived. We earned a B. The machine was repaired the next morning, but the B stayed in our window for four months until our next inspection, and our weekend sales dropped by nearly a quarter.

(3) The health department credits the grades for the drop in violations. But critical violations were falling across the state during the same three years, including in counties that do not post grades. In addition, the department hired six new inspectors the year grading began, and inspectors now visit each restaurant more often. Any of these changes could explain the improvement.

(4) If the county wants to keep grades, it should at least let restaurants request a quick re-inspection after fixing a problem. A grade should tell diners how a kitchen usually runs, not how it looked on its worst day.

A post on the website of a member of the Lakeport City Council, a fictional city, followed by a graph from the Lakeport Traffic Department

(1) One year ago, Lakeport installed speed cameras at 10 of its most dangerous intersections. I fought hard for those cameras, and now the first full year of results is in.

(2) Crashes at camera intersections have dropped by half. And the effect keeps growing: every quarter since the cameras went up has been safer than the one before.

(3) The cameras also pay for themselves. In their first year, they brought in $1.3 million in fines, while installing and running them cost $900,000. Each camera photographs the license plate of any car going more than 10 miles per hour over the speed limit, and the owner receives a $75 ticket by mail. Some residents have called the cameras a money grab, but every extra dollar goes into the city's road safety fund.

(4) The cameras weren't the only change last year. The city also repaved Harbor Road, added new crosswalk signals near three schools, and ran a "Slow Down, Lakeport" ad campaign on buses and billboards across the whole city. Together, these steps show what a city can do when it takes safety seriously.

(5) Parents tell me they now feel comfortable letting their children walk to school. One mother on Bay Street told me her son now walks the six blocks to Jefferson Elementary on his own. That is what success looks like.

(6) Next month, I will ask the council to fund cameras at 20 more intersections. Every month we wait is another month of preventable crashes. I hope you will join me in supporting this plan.

The comparison intersections are 10 Lakeport intersections with similar traffic that did not get cameras. Source: Lakeport Traffic Department crash reports (fictional data).

Text 1

A news article from the Carver County Ledger, a fictional newspaper

(1) Carver County officials on Tuesday unveiled a plan to build a reservoir on Clear Creek that would supply drinking water to the county's growing population. The $95 million project would flood about 1,400 acres of the Clear Creek valley, including parts of 11 family farms.

(2) The county's population has grown from 82,000 in 2010 to about 104,000 today. In three of the past five summers, peak water demand exceeded what the county's wells could supply, and residents were ordered to limit lawn watering.

(3) "This reservoir would meet the county's water needs through at least 2060," said Water Authority director Paul Greer. Under the plan, landowners would be paid fair market value for their land. If owners refuse to sell, state law allows the county to take the land through eminent domain, a legal process for acquiring private property for public use.

(4) The plan faces opposition from some farmers and environmental groups. A state wildlife biologist said Clear Creek is one of only a few streams where the Carver darter, a small fish, is known to live. County officials said they will study alternatives, including water conservation programs, before a final vote in June.

(5) Public meetings on the plan are scheduled for April 8 and April 22 at the county courthouse.

Text 2

A personal essay by a farmer whose land lies within the proposed reservoir area

(6) My great-grandfather planted the first apple trees on our land in 1921. My father taught me to drive a tractor in the lower orchard, and my daughter took her first steps on our back porch. If the reservoir is built, all of it will be underwater.

(7) The county's plan calls our valley "1,400 acres." That is accurate, the way calling a family photo album "paper" is accurate. Some things cannot be measured in acres or paid for with a check.

(8) I do not deny that the county needs water. I have watched my neighbors in town let their lawns go brown during the summer watering limits. But Hollis County, just to our north, cut its water use by 18 percent in four years by offering rebates for low-flow toilets and washing machines and by charging higher rates to the heaviest users. Why not try that here first?

(9) The county promises to pay "fair market value." Money can buy land somewhere else. It cannot buy back the place where four generations of my family have lived and worked. Before the county floods a valley, it owes us proof that there is no other way.

Text 1

A news article from the Carver County Ledger, a fictional newspaper

(1) Carver County officials on Tuesday unveiled a plan to build a reservoir on Clear Creek that would supply drinking water to the county's growing population. The $95 million project would flood about 1,400 acres of the Clear Creek valley, including parts of 11 family farms.

(2) The county's population has grown from 82,000 in 2010 to about 104,000 today. In three of the past five summers, peak water demand exceeded what the county's wells could supply, and residents were ordered to limit lawn watering.

(3) "This reservoir would meet the county's water needs through at least 2060," said Water Authority director Paul Greer. Under the plan, landowners would be paid fair market value for their land. If owners refuse to sell, state law allows the county to take the land through eminent domain, a legal process for acquiring private property for public use.

(4) The plan faces opposition from some farmers and environmental groups. A state wildlife biologist said Clear Creek is one of only a few streams where the Carver darter, a small fish, is known to live. County officials said they will study alternatives, including water conservation programs, before a final vote in June.

(5) Public meetings on the plan are scheduled for April 8 and April 22 at the county courthouse.

Text 2

A personal essay by a farmer whose land lies within the proposed reservoir area

(6) My great-grandfather planted the first apple trees on our land in 1921. My father taught me to drive a tractor in the lower orchard, and my daughter took her first steps on our back porch. If the reservoir is built, all of it will be underwater.

(7) The county's plan calls our valley "1,400 acres." That is accurate, the way calling a family photo album "paper" is accurate. Some things cannot be measured in acres or paid for with a check.

(8) I do not deny that the county needs water. I have watched my neighbors in town let their lawns go brown during the summer watering limits. But Hollis County, just to our north, cut its water use by 18 percent in four years by offering rebates for low-flow toilets and washing machines and by charging higher rates to the heaviest users. Why not try that here first?

(9) The county promises to pay "fair market value." Money can buy land somewhere else. It cannot buy back the place where four generations of my family have lived and worked. Before the county floods a valley, it owes us proof that there is no other way.

Text 1

A news article from the Carver County Ledger, a fictional newspaper

(1) Carver County officials on Tuesday unveiled a plan to build a reservoir on Clear Creek that would supply drinking water to the county's growing population. The $95 million project would flood about 1,400 acres of the Clear Creek valley, including parts of 11 family farms.

(2) The county's population has grown from 82,000 in 2010 to about 104,000 today. In three of the past five summers, peak water demand exceeded what the county's wells could supply, and residents were ordered to limit lawn watering.

(3) "This reservoir would meet the county's water needs through at least 2060," said Water Authority director Paul Greer. Under the plan, landowners would be paid fair market value for their land. If owners refuse to sell, state law allows the county to take the land through eminent domain, a legal process for acquiring private property for public use.

(4) The plan faces opposition from some farmers and environmental groups. A state wildlife biologist said Clear Creek is one of only a few streams where the Carver darter, a small fish, is known to live. County officials said they will study alternatives, including water conservation programs, before a final vote in June.

(5) Public meetings on the plan are scheduled for April 8 and April 22 at the county courthouse.

Text 2

A personal essay by a farmer whose land lies within the proposed reservoir area

(6) My great-grandfather planted the first apple trees on our land in 1921. My father taught me to drive a tractor in the lower orchard, and my daughter took her first steps on our back porch. If the reservoir is built, all of it will be underwater.

(7) The county's plan calls our valley "1,400 acres." That is accurate, the way calling a family photo album "paper" is accurate. Some things cannot be measured in acres or paid for with a check.

(8) I do not deny that the county needs water. I have watched my neighbors in town let their lawns go brown during the summer watering limits. But Hollis County, just to our north, cut its water use by 18 percent in four years by offering rebates for low-flow toilets and washing machines and by charging higher rates to the heaviest users. Why not try that here first?

(9) The county promises to pay "fair market value." Money can buy land somewhere else. It cannot buy back the place where four generations of my family have lived and worked. Before the county floods a valley, it owes us proof that there is no other way.

An article from the employee newsletter of St. Brendan Regional Hospital, a fictional hospital, followed by a table of hospital data

(1) In January, St. Brendan launched "Clean Hands, Every Time," a campaign to improve hand cleaning on three hospital units: the Intensive Care Unit (ICU), the Surgical Unit, and the Medical Unit. The hospital installed hand sanitizer dispensers at every patient room door, trained observers to record whether staff cleaned their hands, and posted each unit's weekly score in its break room.

(2) "The results speak for themselves," said Dana Whitfield, the hospital's infection prevention manager. "Hand hygiene is up on every unit, and infections are down on every unit. This campaign works."

(3) Staff say the campaign has changed their habits. "Now I clean my hands without even thinking about it," said one Surgical Unit nurse. "Patients notice, too. Some of them thank us."

(4) The campaign was not the only change this winter. In February, the ICU began using a new type of intravenous catheter, a thin tube placed in a vein, that is designed to reduce bloodstream infections, one of the most common infections in intensive care.

(5) Based on these results, the hospital plans to expand "Clean Hands, Every Time" to every unit by summer.

Hand Hygiene and Infections Before and During the Campaign

Hand hygiene rate is the percent of observed times that staff cleaned their hands when they should have. "Patient-days" counts each patient for each day in the hospital, so units of different sizes can be compared. Source: St. Brendan Infection Prevention Office (fictional data).

An article from the employee newsletter of St. Brendan Regional Hospital, a fictional hospital, followed by a table of hospital data

(1) In January, St. Brendan launched "Clean Hands, Every Time," a campaign to improve hand cleaning on three hospital units: the Intensive Care Unit (ICU), the Surgical Unit, and the Medical Unit. The hospital installed hand sanitizer dispensers at every patient room door, trained observers to record whether staff cleaned their hands, and posted each unit's weekly score in its break room.

(2) "The results speak for themselves," said Dana Whitfield, the hospital's infection prevention manager. "Hand hygiene is up on every unit, and infections are down on every unit. This campaign works."

(3) Staff say the campaign has changed their habits. "Now I clean my hands without even thinking about it," said one Surgical Unit nurse. "Patients notice, too. Some of them thank us."

(4) The campaign was not the only change this winter. In February, the ICU began using a new type of intravenous catheter, a thin tube placed in a vein, that is designed to reduce bloodstream infections, one of the most common infections in intensive care.

(5) Based on these results, the hospital plans to expand "Clean Hands, Every Time" to every unit by summer.

Hand Hygiene and Infections Before and During the Campaign

Hand hygiene rate is the percent of observed times that staff cleaned their hands when they should have. "Patient-days" counts each patient for each day in the hospital, so units of different sizes can be compared. Source: St. Brendan Infection Prevention Office (fictional data).

Two texts about the curbside recycling program in Bayview, a fictional city, followed by a graph of city data that both authors refer to

Text 1

From a statement by Bayview's director of sustainability

(1) In 2020, Bayview switched to single-bin recycling. Instead of sorting paper, plastic, glass, and metal into separate containers, residents now put all recyclables into one blue cart. The results have been remarkable. Residents have recycled more than ever: the tonnage we collect rose 55 percent from 2019 to 2024.

(2) Single-bin recycling works because it is easy. When cities make recycling harder, people recycle less. Before the switch, many residents told us that sorting was confusing and that their small kitchens had no room for four containers.

(3) We know the program is not perfect. Contamination, meaning trash or the wrong materials mixed into the blue cart, has risen, and contaminated material must be sent to the landfill. This year we will launch a campaign to teach residents what belongs in the cart, and our crews will tag carts that contain trash.

(4) Bayview residents have shown that they want to recycle. Our job is to make it easy for them to do it right.

Text 2

From a column in the Bayview Courier by a retired manager of the city's recycling plant

(5) Stand at the end of the sorting line at the Bayview recycling plant, as I did for twenty years, and you will see the truth about single-bin recycling: greasy pizza boxes, garden hoses, plastic bags wrapped around the machines, and broken glass ground into every bale of paper.

(6) The city likes to talk about how much it collects. But collecting is not recycling. According to the city's own figures, the share of collected material that is too contaminated to recycle has more than doubled, from 12 percent in 2019 to 26 percent in 2024. More than a quarter of what residents put in their blue carts now goes to the landfill anyway.

(7) Contamination is also expensive. The city pays a contractor $85 a ton to sort out and haul away contaminated material. Mixed loads also lower the price that buyers pay for our paper and plastic.

(8) The city says an education campaign will fix the problem. Maybe. But the simplest fix is the one that worked for years: give residents separate bins again. When people sort at home, far less trash ends up in the recycling.

Source: Bayview Department of Public Works (fictional data).

Two texts about the curbside recycling program in Bayview, a fictional city, followed by a graph of city data that both authors refer to

Text 1

From a statement by Bayview's director of sustainability

(1) In 2020, Bayview switched to single-bin recycling. Instead of sorting paper, plastic, glass, and metal into separate containers, residents now put all recyclables into one blue cart. The results have been remarkable. Residents have recycled more than ever: the tonnage we collect rose 55 percent from 2019 to 2024.

(2) Single-bin recycling works because it is easy. When cities make recycling harder, people recycle less. Before the switch, many residents told us that sorting was confusing and that their small kitchens had no room for four containers.

(3) We know the program is not perfect. Contamination, meaning trash or the wrong materials mixed into the blue cart, has risen, and contaminated material must be sent to the landfill. This year we will launch a campaign to teach residents what belongs in the cart, and our crews will tag carts that contain trash.

(4) Bayview residents have shown that they want to recycle. Our job is to make it easy for them to do it right.

Text 2

From a column in the Bayview Courier by a retired manager of the city's recycling plant

(5) Stand at the end of the sorting line at the Bayview recycling plant, as I did for twenty years, and you will see the truth about single-bin recycling: greasy pizza boxes, garden hoses, plastic bags wrapped around the machines, and broken glass ground into every bale of paper.

(6) The city likes to talk about how much it collects. But collecting is not recycling. According to the city's own figures, the share of collected material that is too contaminated to recycle has more than doubled, from 12 percent in 2019 to 26 percent in 2024. More than a quarter of what residents put in their blue carts now goes to the landfill anyway.

(7) Contamination is also expensive. The city pays a contractor $85 a ton to sort out and haul away contaminated material. Mixed loads also lower the price that buyers pay for our paper and plastic.

(8) The city says an education campaign will fix the problem. Maybe. But the simplest fix is the one that worked for years: give residents separate bins again. When people sort at home, far less trash ends up in the recycling.

Source: Bayview Department of Public Works (fictional data).

Two texts about the curbside recycling program in Bayview, a fictional city, followed by a graph of city data that both authors refer to

Text 1

From a statement by Bayview's director of sustainability

(1) In 2020, Bayview switched to single-bin recycling. Instead of sorting paper, plastic, glass, and metal into separate containers, residents now put all recyclables into one blue cart. The results have been remarkable. Residents have recycled more than ever: the tonnage we collect rose 55 percent from 2019 to 2024.

(2) Single-bin recycling works because it is easy. When cities make recycling harder, people recycle less. Before the switch, many residents told us that sorting was confusing and that their small kitchens had no room for four containers.

(3) We know the program is not perfect. Contamination, meaning trash or the wrong materials mixed into the blue cart, has risen, and contaminated material must be sent to the landfill. This year we will launch a campaign to teach residents what belongs in the cart, and our crews will tag carts that contain trash.

(4) Bayview residents have shown that they want to recycle. Our job is to make it easy for them to do it right.

Text 2

From a column in the Bayview Courier by a retired manager of the city's recycling plant

(5) Stand at the end of the sorting line at the Bayview recycling plant, as I did for twenty years, and you will see the truth about single-bin recycling: greasy pizza boxes, garden hoses, plastic bags wrapped around the machines, and broken glass ground into every bale of paper.

(6) The city likes to talk about how much it collects. But collecting is not recycling. According to the city's own figures, the share of collected material that is too contaminated to recycle has more than doubled, from 12 percent in 2019 to 26 percent in 2024. More than a quarter of what residents put in their blue carts now goes to the landfill anyway.

(7) Contamination is also expensive. The city pays a contractor $85 a ton to sort out and haul away contaminated material. Mixed loads also lower the price that buyers pay for our paper and plastic.

(8) The city says an education campaign will fix the problem. Maybe. But the simplest fix is the one that worked for years: give residents separate bins again. When people sort at home, far less trash ends up in the recycling.

Source: Bayview Department of Public Works (fictional data).

Two texts about the curbside recycling program in Bayview, a fictional city, followed by a graph of city data that both authors refer to

Text 1

From a statement by Bayview's director of sustainability

(1) In 2020, Bayview switched to single-bin recycling. Instead of sorting paper, plastic, glass, and metal into separate containers, residents now put all recyclables into one blue cart. The results have been remarkable. Residents have recycled more than ever: the tonnage we collect rose 55 percent from 2019 to 2024.

(2) Single-bin recycling works because it is easy. When cities make recycling harder, people recycle less. Before the switch, many residents told us that sorting was confusing and that their small kitchens had no room for four containers.

(3) We know the program is not perfect. Contamination, meaning trash or the wrong materials mixed into the blue cart, has risen, and contaminated material must be sent to the landfill. This year we will launch a campaign to teach residents what belongs in the cart, and our crews will tag carts that contain trash.

(4) Bayview residents have shown that they want to recycle. Our job is to make it easy for them to do it right.

Text 2

From a column in the Bayview Courier by a retired manager of the city's recycling plant

(5) Stand at the end of the sorting line at the Bayview recycling plant, as I did for twenty years, and you will see the truth about single-bin recycling: greasy pizza boxes, garden hoses, plastic bags wrapped around the machines, and broken glass ground into every bale of paper.

(6) The city likes to talk about how much it collects. But collecting is not recycling. According to the city's own figures, the share of collected material that is too contaminated to recycle has more than doubled, from 12 percent in 2019 to 26 percent in 2024. More than a quarter of what residents put in their blue carts now goes to the landfill anyway.

(7) Contamination is also expensive. The city pays a contractor $85 a ton to sort out and haul away contaminated material. Mixed loads also lower the price that buyers pay for our paper and plastic.

(8) The city says an education campaign will fix the problem. Maybe. But the simplest fix is the one that worked for years: give residents separate bins again. When people sort at home, far less trash ends up in the recycling.

Source: Bayview Department of Public Works (fictional data).