AP Language and Composition Practice Exam
Multiple Choice Questions
Questions 1­8 refer to the following selection. Read the passage carefully, and then choose the answers
to the questions.
From “Shooting an Elephant,” by George Orwell
1 I had halted on the road. As soon as I saw the elephant I knew with perfect certainty that I ought not
to shoot him. It is a serious matter to shoot a working elephant – it is comparable to destroying a huge
and costly piece of machinery – and obviously one ought not to do it if it can
possibly be avoided. And at that distance, peacefully eating, the elephant looked no more 5
dangerous than a cow. I thought then and I think now that his attack of "must" was already passing off;
in which case he would merely wander harmlessly about until the mahout came back and caught him.
Moreover, I did not in the least want to shoot him. I decided that I would watch him for a little while to
make sure that he did not turn savage again, and then go home.
But at that moment I glanced round at the crowd that had followed me. It was an immense 10
crowd, two thousand at the least and growing every minute. It blocked the road for a long distance on
either side. I looked at the sea of yellow faces above the garish clothes­faces all happy and excited over
this bit of fun, all certain that the elephant was going to be shot. They were watching me as they would
watch a conjurer about to perform a trick. They did not like me, but with the magical rifle in my hands I
was momentarily worth watching. And suddenly I 15 realized that I should have to shoot the
elephant after all. The people expected it of me and I had got to do it; I could feel their two thousand
wills pressing me forward, irresistibly. And it was at this moment, as I stood there with the rifle in my
hands, that I first grasped the hollowness, the futility of the white man's dominion in the East. Here was
I, the white man with his gun, standing in front of the unarmed native crowd – seemingly the leading
actor of the piece; 20 but in reality I was only an absurd puppet pushed to and fro by the will of those
yellow faces behind. I perceived in this moment that when the white man turns tyrant it is his own
freedom that he destroys. He becomes a sort of hollow, posing dummy, the conventionalized figure of a
sahib. For it is the condition of his rule that he shall spend his life in trying to impress the "natives," and
so in every crisis he has got to do what the "natives" expect of him. He wears a 25 mask, and his face
grows to fit it. I had got to shoot the elephant. I had committed myself to doing it when I sent for the
rifle. A sahib has got to act like a sahib; he has got to appear resolute, to know his own mind and do
definite things. To come all that way, rifle in hand, with two thousand people marching at my heels, and
then to trail feebly away, having done nothing – no, that was impossible. The crowd would laugh at me.
And my whole life, every white man's life in 30 the East, was one long struggle not to be laughed at.
But I did not want to shoot the elephant. I watched him beating his bunch of grass against his knees,
with that preoccupied grandmotherly air that elephants have. It seemed to me that it would be murder to
shoot him. At that age I was not squeamish about killing animals, but I had never shot an elephant and
never wanted to. (Somehow it always seems worse to kill a large animal.) 35 Besides, there was the
beast's owner to be considered. Alive, the elephant was worth at least a hundred pounds; dead, he
would only be worth the value of his tusks, five pounds, possibly. But I had got to act quickly. I turned
to some experienced­looking Burmans who had been there when we arrived, and asked them how the
elephant had been behaving. They all said the same thing: he took no notice of you if you left him alone,
but he might charge if you went too close to him.
40 It was perfectly clear to me what I ought to do. I ought to walk up to within, say, twenty­five yards
of the elephant and test his behavior. If he charged, I could shoot; if he took no notice of me, it would
be safe to leave him until the mahout came back. But also I knew that I was going to do no such thing. I
was a poor shot with a rifle and the ground was soft mud into which one would sink at every step. If the
elephant charged and I missed him, I should have about as much 45 chance as a toad under a
steam­roller. But even then I was not thinking particularly of my own skin, only of the watchful yellow
faces behind. For at that moment, with the crowd watching me, I was not afraid in the ordinary sense,
as I would have been if I had been alone. A white man mustn't be frightened in front of "natives"; and so,
in general, he isn't frightened. The sole thought in my mind was that if anything went wrong those two
thousand Burmans would see me 50 pursued, caught, trampled on and reduced to a grinning corpse like
that Indian up the hill. And if that happened it was quite probable that some of them would laugh. That
would never do.
There was only one alternative. I shoved the cartridges into the magazine and lay down on the road to
get a better aim. The crowd grew very still, and a deep, low, happy sigh, as of people who see the
theatre curtain go up at last, breathed from innumerable throats. They were going to have 55 their bit of
fun after all. The rifle was a beautiful German thing with cross­hair sights. I did not then know that in
shooting an elephant one would shoot to cut an imaginary bar running from ear­hole to ear­hole. I ought,
therefore, as the elephant was sideways on, to have aimed straight at his ear­hole, actually I aimed
several inches in front of this, thinking the brain would be further forward.
60 When I pulled the trigger I did not hear the bang or feel the kick – one never does when a shot goes
home – but I heard the devilish roar of glee that went up from the crowd. In that instant, in too short a
time, one would have thought, even for the bullet to get there, a mysterious, terrible change had come
over the elephant. He neither stirred nor fell, but every line of his body had altered. He looked suddenly
stricken, shrunken, immensely old, as though the frightful impact of 65 the bullet had paralysed him
without knocking him down. At last, after what seemed a long time – it might have been five seconds, I
dare say – he sagged flabbily to his knees. His mouth slobbered. An enormous senility seemed to have
settled upon him. One could have imagined him thousands of years old. I fired again into the same spot.
At the second shot he did not collapse but climbed with desperate slowness to his feet and stood
weakly upright, with legs sagging and head 70 drooping. I fired a third time. That was the shot that did
for him. You could see the agony of it jolt his whole body and knock the last remnant of strength from
his legs. But in falling he seemed for a moment to rise, for as his hind legs collapsed beneath him he
seemed to tower upward like a huge rock toppling, his trunk reaching skyward like a tree. He
trumpeted, for the first and only time. And then down he came, his belly towards me, with a crash that
seemed to shake the 75 ground even where I lay.
1. the sentence in lines 2­5 can be best described as a
a. simile
b. metaphor
c. alliteration
d. personification
e. hyperbole
2. Orwell’s tone in lines 38­40 can best be described as
a. harsh and strident
b. informal and analytical
c. energetic and colloquial
d. optimistic and lucid
e. solemn and brave
3. In paragraph 1, the author’s attitude towards shooting the elephant can best be described as
a. unwarranted
b. unavoidable
c. casual
d. willing
e. none of the above
4. Where are the yellow­faced “natives” from according to the passage?
a. India
b. China
c. Burma
d. Laos
e. Thailand
5. In what time period is this passage most likely set?
a. in the fall of 1942
b. sometime in the era of British imperialism in the East
c. in 1932 or 1933
d. sometime in the 1980s
e. during the Revolutionary War
6. Why does Orwell’s character, in the end, shoot the elephant?
a. He feels pressured by the expectations of the native population and the weight of British
imperialism
b. He feels genuinely threatened by the elephant
c. He is ordered to do so by a commanding officer
d. The native population threatens to revolt if he does not shoot the elephant
e. He feels he must avenge the death of the native as a method of atoning for the sins of his
country
7. Orwell’s attitude towards the native people can best be described as which of the following?
a. absolute hatred
b. disinterest
c. deep fascination
d. sympathetic, but annoyed
e. arrogant
8. The chief topic of this selection is
a. The poor relations between native and imperialistic populations
b. Orwell’s hatred for British imperialism
c. Peer pressure
d. Both a and b
e. Both b and c
Questions 1­8 refer to the following selection. Read the passage carefully, and then choose the answers
to the questions.
From “The Joys of Reading and Writing: Superman and Me,” by Sherman Alexie
1 I can remember picking up my father's books before I could read. The words themselves were mostly
foreign, but I still remember the exact moment when I first understood, with a sudden clarity, the
purpose of a paragraph. I didn't have the vocabulary to say "paragraph," but I realized that a paragraph
was a fence that held words. The words inside a paragraph worked together for a 5 common purpose.
They had some specific reason for being inside the same fence. This knowledge delighted me. I began
to think of everything in terms of paragraphs. Our reservation was a small paragraph within the United
States. My family's house was a paragraph, distinct from the other paragraphs of the LeBrets to the
north, the Fords to our south and the Tribal School to the west. Inside our house, each family member
existed as a separate paragraph but still 10 had genetics and common experiences to link us. Now,
using this logic, I can see my changed family as an essay of seven paragraphs: mother, father, older
brother, the deceased sister, my younger twin sisters and our adopted little brother.
At the same time I was seeing the world in paragraphs, I also picked up that Superman comic book.
Each panel, complete with picture, dialogue and narrative was a three­dimensional 15 paragraph.
In one panel, Superman breaks through a door. His suit is red, blue and yellow. The brown door
shatters into many pieces. I look at the narrative above the picture. I cannot read the words, but I
assume it tells me that "Superman is breaking down the door." Aloud, I pretend to read the words and
say, "Superman is breaking down the door." Words, dialogue, also float out of Superman's mouth.
Because he is breaking down the door, I assume he says, "I am 20 breaking down the door."
Once again, I pretend to read the words and say aloud, "I am breaking down the door" In this way, I
learned to read.
This might be an interesting story all by itself. A little Indian boy teaches himself to read at an early age
and advances quickly. He reads "Grapes of Wrath" in kindergarten when other children are struggling
through "Dick and Jane." If he'd been anything but an Indian boy living on the 25 reservation, he might
have been called a prodigy. But he is an Indian boy living on the reservation and is simply an oddity. He
grows into a man who often speaks of his childhood in the third­person, as if it will somehow dull the
pain and make him sound more modest about his talents.
30 A smart Indian is a dangerous person, widely feared and ridiculed by Indians and non­Indians alike.
I fought with my classmates on a daily basis. They wanted me to stay quiet when the non­Indian teacher
asked for answers, for volunteers, for help. We were Indian children who were expected to be stupid.
Most lived up to those expectations inside the classroom but subverted them on the outside. They
struggled with basic reading in school but could remember 35 how to sing a few dozen powwow songs.
They were monosyllabic in front of their non­Indian teachers but could tell complicated stories and
jokes at the dinner table. They submissively ducked their heads when confronted by a non­Indian adult
but would slug it out with the Indian bully who was 10 years older. As Indian children, we were
expected to fail in the non­Indian world. Those who failed were ceremonially accepted by other Indians
and appropriately pitied by 40 non­Indians.
I refused to fail. I was smart. I was arrogant. I was lucky. I read books late into the night, until I could
barely keep my eyes open. I read books at recess, then during lunch, and in the few minutes left after I
had finished my classroom assignments. I read books in the car when my family traveled to powwows
or basketball games. In shopping malls, I ran to the bookstores and 45 read bits and pieces of as many
books as I could. I read the books my father brought home from the pawnshops and secondhand. I
read the books I borrowed from the library. I read the backs of cereal boxes. I read the newspaper. I
read the bulletins posted on the walls of the school, the clinic, the tribal offices, the post office. I read
junk mail. I read auto­repair manuals. I read magazines. I read anything that had words and paragraphs.
I read with equal parts joy and 50 desperation. I loved those books, but I also knew that love had
only one purpose. I was trying to save my life
1. In what way does the third paragraph (“This might be an interesting story…”) differ from the
rest of the essay?
a. It is about someone other than the author
b. It switches to the third person
c. It switches to the second person
d. It discusses Batman rather than Superman
e. It does not relate to the topic of the essay
2. The author most likely inherited his love of reading from
a. his father
b. his mother
c. his teacher
d. his culture
e. his brother
3. According to the narrator, a smart Indian is seen as
a. a benefit to society
b. dangerous
c. unlikely
d. good
e. a way to bring reservations into suburban society
4. Alexie uses the word “paragraph” most nearly to describe
a. section of writing
b. fencing
c. a visual representation of a group
d. a short news story
e. means of classification
5. In lines 37­39, the author describes Indian children as “submissively ducked their heads when
confronted by a non­Indian adult but would slug it out with the Indian bully who was 10 years
older”
a. as an example of how Indian children struggle to interact in the non­Indian world
b. an example of the inefficacy of the reservation school system
c. to describe his past in the third person
d. to demonstrate the violence of the society
e. to provide an example of when Superman would be needed
6. The tone of this passage can best be described as
a. formal
b. jargon­ridden
c. colloquial
d. reproachful
e. doubtful
7. In what way does Alexie link Superman and reading in order to describe the theme of the
passage?
a. By providing more books about Superman, children will be more willing to learn how to
read
b. English teachers as strong as Superman are needed in order to destroy the education
inequality in the reservation system
c. Children should not read about Superman as it makes them too idealistic
d. Both Superman and reading have the ability to save the lives of people even in the most
desperate of situations
e. Books about Superman are more inspirational than cowboy novels
8. Lines 26­28, “He grows into a man who often speaks of his childhood in the third­person, as if
it will somehow dull the pain and make him sound more modest about his talents,” can most
nearly be described as
a. irony
b. analogy
c. circumlocution
d. hyperbole
e. synecdoche
Questions 1­9 refer to the following selection. Read the passage carefully, and then choose the answers
to the questions.
From “The Greatest Nature Essay Ever,”by Brian Doyle
. . .would begin with an image so startling and lovely and wondrous that you would stop riffling through
the rest of the mail, take your jacket off, sit down at the table, adjust your spectacles, tell
the dog to lie down, tell the kids to make their own sandwiches for heavenssake, that’s why god gave
you hands, and read straight through the piece, marveling that you had 5 indeed seen or smelled or
heard exactly that, but never quite articulated it that way, or seen or heard it articulated that way, and
you think, man, this is why I read nature essays, to be startled and moved like that, wow.
The next two paragraphs would smoothly and gently move you into a story, seemingly a small story, a
light tale, easily accessed, something personal but not self­indulgent or self­absorbed on 10 the writer’s
part, just sort of a cheerful nutty everyday story maybe starring an elk or a mink or a child, but then
there would suddenly be a sharp sentence where the dagger enters your heart and the essay spins on a
dime like a skater, and you are plunged into waaay deeper water, you didn’t see it coming at all, and
you actually shiver, your whole body shimmers, and much later, maybe when you are in bed with
someone you love and you are trying to evade his or her icy 15 feet, you think, my god, stories do
have roaring power, stories are the most crucial and necessary food, how come we never hardly
say that out loud?
The next three paragraphs then walk inexorably toward a line of explosive Conclusions on the horizon
like inky alps. Probably the sentences get shorter, more staccato. Terser. Blunter. Shards of sentences.
But there’s no opinion or commentary, just one line fitting into another, each 20 one making plain
inarguable sense, a goat or even a senator could easily understand the sentences and their implications,
and there’s no shouting, no persuasion, no eloquent pirouetting, no pronouncements and accusations, no
sermons or homilies, just calm clean clear statements one after another, fitting together like people
holding hands.
Then an odd paragraph, this is a most unusual and peculiar essay, for right here where you would 25
normally expect those alpine Conclusions, some Advice, some Stern Instructions & Directions, there’s
only the quiet murmur of the writer tiptoeing back to the story he or she was telling you in the second
and third paragraphs. The story slips back into view gently, a little shy, holding its hat, nothing
melodramatic, in fact it offers a few gnomic questions without answers, and then it gently slides away off
the page and off the stage, it almost evanescens or dissolves, 30 and it’s only later after you have read
the essay three times with mounting amazement that you see quite how the writer managed the stagecraft
there, but that’s the stuff of another essay for another time.
And finally the last paragraph. It turns out that the perfect nature essay is quite short, it’s a lean taut
thing, an arrow and not a cannon, and here at the end there’s a flash of humor, and a hint or 35 tone or
subtext of sadness, a touch of rue, you can’t quite put your finger on it but it’s there, a dark thread in the
fabric, and there’s also a shot of espresso hope, hope against all odds and sense, but rivetingly there’s
no call to arms, no clarion brassy trumpet blast, no website to which you are directed, no hint that you,
yes you, should be ashamed of how much water you use or the car you drive or the fact that you just
turned the thermostat up to seventy, or that you actually 40 have not voted in the past two elections
despite what you told the kids and the goat. Nor is there a rimshot ending, a bang, a last twist of the
dagger. Oddly, sweetly, the essay just ends with a feeling eerily like a warm hand brushed against your
cheek, and you sit there, near tears, smiling, and then you stand up. Changed.
1. The sentence beginning in line 8 (“The next two paragraphs would..”) contains which of the
following?
a. simile
b. onomatopoeia
c. metaphor
d. hyperbole
e. personification
2. The tone of this passage can best be described as
a. serious
b. bombastic
c. insolent
d. vibrant
e. flippant
3. The speaker assumes that the attitude of the reader toward nature essays will be one of
a. enjoyment and pleasure
b. tedious and banal
c. indignation and irritation
d. cynical and sceptical
e. disdainful and indifferent
4. This passage is primarily concerned with
a. the structure of the nature essay
b. the depth and enjoyment in reading a nature essay
c. the need to understand the nature essay
d. the importance of words in the nature essays
e. the lasting effect after reading a nature essay
5. The author uses a simile in line 10 to explain how the story would run to
a. put abstract concepts in concrete terms
b. draw the attention of the readers
c. encourage interpretation
d. create a deeper understanding
e. all of the above
6. All of the following are figurative language EXCEPT
a. dagger enters your heart (Line 11)
b. warm hand brushed against your cheek (42)
c. like a skater (12)
d. an elk or a mink (10)
e. inky alps (18)
7. the main purpose of this passage is to
a. discuss the structure of a nature essay
b. persuade readers to read nature essays
c. discuss the diction of a nature essay
d. give examples of figurative language
e. both a and b
8. Which of the following best states the speaker’s purpose in lines 29­32
a. to give a personal interpretation of the authors view of the conclusion
b. to persuade readers to read nature essays till the very end
c. to explain the feeling that arises in the end of a nature essay
d. to use an example of figurative language
e. to draw the readers attention at the very end of the author’s text
9. The meaning of “evanescens” in line 29 can best be defined as
a. fading
b. interesting
c. formal
d. fascinating
e. intriguing
AP Language and Composition
Practice Multiple Choice Answer Sheet
“Shooting an Elephant,” by George Orwell
Answer key
1 A
2 E
3 A
4 C
5 B
6 A
7 D
8 E
“The Joys of Reading and Writing: Superman and Me,” by Sherman Alexie
1 B
2 A
3 B
4 E
5 A
6 C
7 D
8 A
The Greatest Nature essay ever
1 E
2 D
3 A
4 B
5 E
6 D
7 E
8 C
9 A