1. Pre-view the reading first.
Time yourself for a maximum of only thirty seconds, allowing
yourself to quickly look at the introduction, the first sentences of the paragraphs, and the questions you
will be answering.
2. Time yourself.
Now see how long it takes you to read the passage "The Ties That Bind"
below. Write your total time in minutes and seconds in the space provided at the end of the reading.
The Ties That Bind
By John D. Whitman
"Nice work on this," Gilchrist said. He leaned back against the round table with the ease
of a man who owned not only the furniture, but the building that housed it.
"Thanks, Mr. Gilchrist."
"You know, I gotta tell you, when you first came on board, I had my concerns. I knew you
had the wife, two kids."
The wife. The two kids. At the office, Max's thoughts were only of business, and the
unexpected mention of his home life jarred him.
"I mean, you've gotta have those commitments, they're the most important thing," Gilchrist
admitted. "But you're the only family man on the fast track here, and I was afraid your
focus…"
"I'm lucky enough to have a family who supports me," Max interjected.
"Good, because I'm looking around for a number two, Max, and it might be you."
Max floated back to his office, riding those words like winged sandals. He picked up his
phone and pressed 1 on his speed dial.
"Twentieth Century Fox. Joan Kelly's office." "Is the twenty-first-century fox in?" he
asked.
The voice on the other end smiled. "Hey, Mr. Kelly. One minute, please."
Max heard a click that indicated he was being forwarded. Joan picked up and said "Hi"
from her car phone. "How'd the meeting go?"
"Supercalifragilistic," he said. "The old man is dropping hints." "You're a star," Joan said.
"But it means follow-up. I think I'm going to be late."
Pause. The sound of the world rushing by, another world somewhere at the other end of
the digital connection, a world with other problems, other deadlines, their enormity
communicated only by the length of the pause and then two words. "The kids."
"I know," he said. "But I don't think I can make it if I'm gonna get this report done. Can you
go?"
Another pause. At the other end of the line, Joan Kelly was hurtling through the Cahuenga
Pass, leaving Burbank, heading to a lunch meeting at Citrus. In the gaps between the
billboards and apartment buildings, she caught glimpses of sun-baked grass on the hillsides.
The trees looked archaic, like something out of her elementary school history class. She'd
studied California history when she was a kid. She drove past the American Legion Hall with
its cannon in the front, and recalled that Cahuenga Pass in 1845 had been the site of Los
Angeles' only battle.
She sighed, surrendering. "I'll try."
➞
Mark your reading time on a separate piece of paper: (minutes) (seconds).
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