Read the following passage and answer the question: In this passage a Mexican American historian describes a technique she used as part of her research. Doña Teodora offered me yet another cup of strong, black coffee. The aroma of the big, paper-thin Sonoran tortillas filled the small, linoleum-covered kitchen, and I Line knew that with the coffee I would receive a buttered tortilla 5 straight from the round, homemade comal (a flat, earthen- ware cooking pan) balanced on the gas-burning stove. For three days, from ten in the morning until early evening, I had been sitting in the same comfortable wooden chair, taking cup after cup of black coffee and consuming hot 10 tortillas. Doña Teodora was ninety years old, and although she would take occasional breaks from patting, extending, and turning over tortillas to let her cat in or out, it appeared that I was the only one exhausted at the end of the day. But once out, as I went over the notes, filed and organized the 15 tape cassettes, exhilaration would set in. The intellectual and emotional excitement I had previously experienced when a pertinent document would suddenly appear now waned in comparison to the gestures and words, the joy and anger doña Teodora offered. 20 She had not written down her thoughts; but the ideas, recollections, and images evoked by her lively oral expres- sion were jewels for anyone who wanted to know about the life of Mexicanas * in booming mining towns on both sides of the Mexico-United States border in the early twentieth 25 century. She never kept a diary. The thought of writing a memoir would have been put aside as presumptuous. But all her life doña Teodora had lived amidst the telling and retelling of family stories. Genealogies of her own family as well as complete and up-to-date information of the 30 marriages, births, and deaths of numerous families that made up her community were all well-kept memories. These chains of generations were fleshed out with recollec- tions of the many events and tribulations of these families. Oral history had proven to be a fertile field for my research 35 on the history of Mexicanas. My search had begun in libraries and archives—reposi- tories of conventional history. The available sources were to be found in census reports, church records, directories, and other such statistical information. These, however, as 40 important as they are, cannot provide one of the essential dimensions of history, the full narrative of the human experience that defies quantification and classification. In certain social groups this gap can be filled with diaries, memoirs, letters, or even reports from others. In the case of 45 Mexicanas in the United States, one of the many devastating consequences of defeat and conquest has been that the traditional institutions that preserve and transfer culture (the documentation of the past) have ignored these personal written sources. The letters, writings, and documents of 50 Mexican people have rarely, if ever, been included in archives, special collections, or libraries. At best, some centers have attempted to collect newspapers published by Mexicans, but the effort was started late. The historian who tries to reconstruct the past from newspapers is constantly 55 frustrated because, although titles abound, collections are scarce and often incomplete. Although many hours of previous study and preparation had taken me to doña Teodora's kitchen, I was initially unsure of my place. Was I really an insider or were the 60 experiences that had made the lives of my interviewees such that, although I could speak Spanish and am Mexicana, I was still an outsider? I realized, nonetheless, that the richness and depth of the spoken word challenges the comforting theories and models 65 of the social sciences. Mexican history challenges social- science models derived solely from victorious imperialistic experiences. Our history cannot be written without new sources. These sources will determine which concepts are needed to 70 illuminate and interpret the past, and these concepts will emerge from the people themselves. This will permit the description of events and structures to assume a culturally relevant perspective, thus emphasizing the point of view of the Mexican people. The use of theoretical constructs must 75 follow the voices of the people who live the reality, con- sciously or not. For too long the experiences of women have been studied according to male-oriented sources and constructs. These must be questioned. For the history of Mexican people, the sources primarily exist in our own 80 worlds. And it is here where we must begin. I often found that as the memory awakened, other sources would emerge. Boxes of letters, photographs, and even manuscripts and diaries would appear. Long-standing assumptions of illiteracy were shattered and had to be reexamined. I saw 85 that constant reevaluation became the rule rather than the exception. I entered women's worlds created on the margin —not only of Anglo life, but of, and outside of, the lives of their own fathers, husbands, sons, brothers, or priests, bosses, and bureaucrats. The author's comments in the third paragraph (lines 36-56) suggest that her research project resembles more conventional research in its

use of written public materials as a starting point

In the third paragraph, the author explicitly states, 'My search had begun in libraries and archives—repositories of conventional history. The available sources were to be found in census reports, church records, directories, and other such statistical information.' This clearly indicates that, like conventional research, her project initially utilized established written public records as a starting point, even though she later found them insufficient for her specific historical inquiry.

Read the following passage and answer the question: In this passage a Mexican American historian describes a technique she used as part of her research. Doña Teodora offered me yet another cup of strong, black coffee. The aroma of the big, paper-thin Sonoran tortillas filled the small, linoleum-covered kitchen, and I Line knew that with the coffee I would receive a buttered tortilla 5 straight from the round, homemade comal (a flat, earthen- ware cooking pan) balanced on the gas-burning stove. For three days, from ten in the morning until early evening, I had been sitting in the same comfortable wooden chair, taking cup after cup of black coffee and consuming hot 10 tortillas. Doña Teodora was ninety years old, and although she would take occasional breaks from patting, extending, and turning over tortillas to let her cat in or out, it appeared that I was the only one exhausted at the end of the day. But once out, as I went over the notes, filed and organized the 15 tape cassettes, exhilaration would set in. The intellectual and emotional excitement I had previously experienced when a pertinent document would suddenly appear now waned in comparison to the gestures and words, the joy and anger doña Teodora offered. 20 She had not written down her thoughts; but the ideas, recollections, and images evoked by her lively oral expres- sion were jewels for anyone who wanted to know about the life of Mexicanas * in booming mining towns on both sides of the Mexico-United States border in the early twentieth 25 century. She never kept a diary. The thought of writing a memoir would have been put aside as presumptuous. But all her life doña Teodora had lived amidst the telling and retelling of family stories. Genealogies of her own family as well as complete and up-to-date information of the 30 marriages, births, and deaths of numerous families that made up her community were all well-kept memories. These chains of generations were fleshed out with recollec- tions of the many events and tribulations of these families. Oral history had proven to be a fertile field for my research 35 on the history of Mexicanas. My search had begun in libraries and archives—reposi- tories of conventional history. The available sources were to be found in census reports, church records, directories, and other such statistical information. These, however, as 40 important as they are, cannot provide one of the essential dimensions of history, the full narrative of the human experience that defies quantification and classification. In certain social groups this gap can be filled with diaries, memoirs, letters, or even reports from others. In the case of 45 Mexicanas in the United States, one of the many devastating consequences of defeat and conquest has been that the traditional institutions that preserve and transfer culture (the documentation of the past) have ignored these personal written sources. The letters, writings, and documents of 50 Mexican people have rarely, if ever, been included in archives, special collections, or libraries. At best, some centers have attempted to collect newspapers published by Mexicans, but the effort was started late. The historian who tries to reconstruct the past from newspapers is constantly 55 frustrated because, although titles abound, collections are scarce and often incomplete. Although many hours of previous study and preparation had taken me to doña Teodora's kitchen, I was initially unsure of my place. Was I really an insider or were the 60 experiences that had made the lives of my interviewees such that, although I could speak Spanish and am Mexicana, I was still an outsider? I realized, nonetheless, that the richness and depth of the spoken word challenges the comforting theories and models 65 of the social sciences. Mexican history challenges social- science models derived solely from victorious imperialistic experiences. Our history cannot be written without new sources. These sources will determine which concepts are needed to 70 illuminate and interpret the past, and these concepts will emerge from the people themselves. This will permit the description of events and structures to assume a culturally relevant perspective, thus emphasizing the point of view of the Mexican people. The use of theoretical constructs must 75 follow the voices of the people who live the reality, con- sciously or not. For too long the experiences of women have been studied according to male-oriented sources and constructs. These must be questioned. For the history of Mexican people, the sources primarily exist in our own 80 worlds. And it is here where we must begin. I often found that as the memory awakened, other sources would emerge. Boxes of letters, photographs, and even manuscripts and diaries would appear. Long-standing assumptions of illiteracy were shattered and had to be reexamined. I saw 85 that constant reevaluation became the rule rather than the exception. I entered women's worlds created on the margin —not only of Anglo life, but of, and outside of, the lives of their own fathers, husbands, sons, brothers, or priests, bosses, and bureaucrats. In what sense are "census reports, church records, directories" (line 38) inadequate?

They do not tell the human side of the story.

The passage explicitly states that while 'census reports, church records, directories, and other such statistical information' are important, they 'cannot provide one of the essential dimensions of history, the full narrative of the human experience that defies quantification and classification.' This indicates their inadequacy lies in their inability to capture the personal, qualitative, and subjective aspects of people's lives, which is precisely 'the human side of the story.'

Read the following passage and answer the question: In this passage a Mexican American historian describes a technique she used as part of her research. Doña Teodora offered me yet another cup of strong, black coffee. The aroma of the big, paper-thin Sonoran tortillas filled the small, linoleum-covered kitchen, and I Line knew that with the coffee I would receive a buttered tortilla 5 straight from the round, homemade comal (a flat, earthen- ware cooking pan) balanced on the gas-burning stove. For three days, from ten in the morning until early evening, I had been sitting in the same comfortable wooden chair, taking cup after cup of black coffee and consuming hot 10 tortillas. Doña Teodora was ninety years old, and although she would take occasional breaks from patting, extending, and turning over tortillas to let her cat in or out, it appeared that I was the only one exhausted at the end of the day. But once out, as I went over the notes, filed and organized the 15 tape cassettes, exhilaration would set in. The intellectual and emotional excitement I had previously experienced when a pertinent document would suddenly appear now waned in comparison to the gestures and words, the joy and anger doña Teodora offered. 20 She had not written down her thoughts; but the ideas, recollections, and images evoked by her lively oral expres- sion were jewels for anyone who wanted to know about the life of Mexicanas * in booming mining towns on both sides of the Mexico-United States border in the early twentieth 25 century. She never kept a diary. The thought of writing a memoir would have been put aside as presumptuous. But all her life doña Teodora had lived amidst the telling and retelling of family stories. Genealogies of her own family as well as complete and up-to-date information of the 30 marriages, births, and deaths of numerous families that made up her community were all well-kept memories. These chains of generations were fleshed out with recollec- tions of the many events and tribulations of these families. Oral history had proven to be a fertile field for my research 35 on the history of Mexicanas. My search had begun in libraries and archives—reposi- tories of conventional history. The available sources were to be found in census reports, church records, directories, and other such statistical information. These, however, as 40 important as they are, cannot provide one of the essential dimensions of history, the full narrative of the human experience that defies quantification and classification. In certain social groups this gap can be filled with diaries, memoirs, letters, or even reports from others. In the case of 45 Mexicanas in the United States, one of the many devastating consequences of defeat and conquest has been that the traditional institutions that preserve and transfer culture (the documentation of the past) have ignored these personal written sources. The letters, writings, and documents of 50 Mexican people have rarely, if ever, been included in archives, special collections, or libraries. At best, some centers have attempted to collect newspapers published by Mexicans, but the effort was started late. The historian who tries to reconstruct the past from newspapers is constantly 55 frustrated because, although titles abound, collections are scarce and often incomplete. Although many hours of previous study and preparation had taken me to doña Teodora's kitchen, I was initially unsure of my place. Was I really an insider or were the 60 experiences that had made the lives of my interviewees such that, although I could speak Spanish and am Mexicana, I was still an outsider? I realized, nonetheless, that the richness and depth of the spoken word challenges the comforting theories and models 65 of the social sciences. Mexican history challenges social- science models derived solely from victorious imperialistic experiences. Our history cannot be written without new sources. These sources will determine which concepts are needed to 70 illuminate and interpret the past, and these concepts will emerge from the people themselves. This will permit the description of events and structures to assume a culturally relevant perspective, thus emphasizing the point of view of the Mexican people. The use of theoretical constructs must 75 follow the voices of the people who live the reality, con- sciously or not. For too long the experiences of women have been studied according to male-oriented sources and constructs. These must be questioned. For the history of Mexican people, the sources primarily exist in our own 80 worlds. And it is here where we must begin. I often found that as the memory awakened, other sources would emerge. Boxes of letters, photographs, and even manuscripts and diaries would appear. Long-standing assumptions of illiteracy were shattered and had to be reexamined. I saw 85 that constant reevaluation became the rule rather than the exception. I entered women's worlds created on the margin —not only of Anglo life, but of, and outside of, the lives of their own fathers, husbands, sons, brothers, or priests, bosses, and bureaucrats. The "gap" referred to in line 43 can best be described as the distance between the

pictures presented by traditional historical sources and by subjective personal accounts

The 'gap' in line 43 refers to what traditional historical sources like census reports and church records fail to provide: 'the full narrative of the human experience that defies quantification and classification.' This missing dimension is then contrasted with the subjective personal accounts found in 'diaries, memoirs, letters, or even reports from others' that *can* fill this void. Therefore, the 'gap' represents the difference between the objective, statistical view offered by conventional sources and the rich, personal perspectives provided by subjective accounts.

Read the following passage and answer the question: In this passage a Mexican American historian describes a technique she used as part of her research. Doña Teodora offered me yet another cup of strong, black coffee. The aroma of the big, paper-thin Sonoran tortillas filled the small, linoleum-covered kitchen, and I Line knew that with the coffee I would receive a buttered tortilla 5 straight from the round, homemade comal (a flat, earthen- ware cooking pan) balanced on the gas-burning stove. For three days, from ten in the morning until early evening, I had been sitting in the same comfortable wooden chair, taking cup after cup of black coffee and consuming hot 10 tortillas. Doña Teodora was ninety years old, and although she would take occasional breaks from patting, extending, and turning over tortillas to let her cat in or out, it appeared that I was the only one exhausted at the end of the day. But once out, as I went over the notes, filed and organized the 15 tape cassettes, exhilaration would set in. The intellectual and emotional excitement I had previously experienced when a pertinent document would suddenly appear now waned in comparison to the gestures and words, the joy and anger doña Teodora offered. 20 She had not written down her thoughts; but the ideas, recollections, and images evoked by her lively oral expres- sion were jewels for anyone who wanted to know about the life of Mexicanas * in booming mining towns on both sides of the Mexico-United States border in the early twentieth 25 century. She never kept a diary. The thought of writing a memoir would have been put aside as presumptuous. But all her life doña Teodora had lived amidst the telling and retelling of family stories. Genealogies of her own family as well as complete and up-to-date information of the 30 marriages, births, and deaths of numerous families that made up her community were all well-kept memories. These chains of generations were fleshed out with recollec- tions of the many events and tribulations of these families. Oral history had proven to be a fertile field for my research 35 on the history of Mexicanas. My search had begun in libraries and archives—reposi- tories of conventional history. The available sources were to be found in census reports, church records, directories, and other such statistical information. These, however, as 40 important as they are, cannot provide one of the essential dimensions of history, the full narrative of the human experience that defies quantification and classification. In certain social groups this gap can be filled with diaries, memoirs, letters, or even reports from others. In the case of 45 Mexicanas in the United States, one of the many devastating consequences of defeat and conquest has been that the traditional institutions that preserve and transfer culture (the documentation of the past) have ignored these personal written sources. The letters, writings, and documents of 50 Mexican people have rarely, if ever, been included in archives, special collections, or libraries. At best, some centers have attempted to collect newspapers published by Mexicans, but the effort was started late. The historian who tries to reconstruct the past from newspapers is constantly 55 frustrated because, although titles abound, collections are scarce and often incomplete. Although many hours of previous study and preparation had taken me to doña Teodora's kitchen, I was initially unsure of my place. Was I really an insider or were the 60 experiences that had made the lives of my interviewees such that, although I could speak Spanish and am Mexicana, I was still an outsider? I realized, nonetheless, that the richness and depth of the spoken word challenges the comforting theories and models 65 of the social sciences. Mexican history challenges social- science models derived solely from victorious imperialistic experiences. Our history cannot be written without new sources. These sources will determine which concepts are needed to 70 illuminate and interpret the past, and these concepts will emerge from the people themselves. This will permit the description of events and structures to assume a culturally relevant perspective, thus emphasizing the point of view of the Mexican people. The use of theoretical constructs must 75 follow the voices of the people who live the reality, con- sciously or not. For too long the experiences of women have been studied according to male-oriented sources and constructs. These must be questioned. For the history of Mexican people, the sources primarily exist in our own 80 worlds. And it is here where we must begin. I often found that as the memory awakened, other sources would emerge. Boxes of letters, photographs, and even manuscripts and diaries would appear. Long-standing assumptions of illiteracy were shattered and had to be reexamined. I saw 85 that constant reevaluation became the rule rather than the exception. I entered women's worlds created on the margin —not only of Anglo life, but of, and outside of, the lives of their own fathers, husbands, sons, brothers, or priests, bosses, and bureaucrats. In line 59, "place" most nearly means

The author questions "my place" immediately followed by "Was I really an insider or... I was still an outsider?". This phrasing indicates a concern about her position or function within the research dynamic, specifically whether she belonged or was accepted. Therefore, "role" accurately captures this sense of her position or function in relation to her interviewees and the research.

Read the following passage and answer the question: In this passage a Mexican American historian describes a technique she used as part of her research. Doña Teodora offered me yet another cup of strong, black coffee. The aroma of the big, paper-thin Sonoran tortillas filled the small, linoleum-covered kitchen, and I Line knew that with the coffee I would receive a buttered tortilla 5 straight from the round, homemade comal (a flat, earthen- ware cooking pan) balanced on the gas-burning stove. For three days, from ten in the morning until early evening, I had been sitting in the same comfortable wooden chair, taking cup after cup of black coffee and consuming hot 10 tortillas. Doña Teodora was ninety years old, and although she would take occasional breaks from patting, extending, and turning over tortillas to let her cat in or out, it appeared that I was the only one exhausted at the end of the day. But once out, as I went over the notes, filed and organized the 15 tape cassettes, exhilaration would set in. The intellectual and emotional excitement I had previously experienced when a pertinent document would suddenly appear now waned in comparison to the gestures and words, the joy and anger doña Teodora offered. 20 She had not written down her thoughts; but the ideas, recollections, and images evoked by her lively oral expres- sion were jewels for anyone who wanted to know about the life of Mexicanas * in booming mining towns on both sides of the Mexico-United States border in the early twentieth 25 century. She never kept a diary. The thought of writing a memoir would have been put aside as presumptuous. But all her life doña Teodora had lived amidst the telling and retelling of family stories. Genealogies of her own family as well as complete and up-to-date information of the 30 marriages, births, and deaths of numerous families that made up her community were all well-kept memories. These chains of generations were fleshed out with recollec- tions of the many events and tribulations of these families. Oral history had proven to be a fertile field for my research 35 on the history of Mexicanas. My search had begun in libraries and archives—reposi- tories of conventional history. The available sources were to be found in census reports, church records, directories, and other such statistical information. These, however, as 40 important as they are, cannot provide one of the essential dimensions of history, the full narrative of the human experience that defies quantification and classification. In certain social groups this gap can be filled with diaries, memoirs, letters, or even reports from others. In the case of 45 Mexicanas in the United States, one of the many devastating consequences of defeat and conquest has been that the traditional institutions that preserve and transfer culture (the documentation of the past) have ignored these personal written sources. The letters, writings, and documents of 50 Mexican people have rarely, if ever, been included in archives, special collections, or libraries. At best, some centers have attempted to collect newspapers published by Mexicans, but the effort was started late. The historian who tries to reconstruct the past from newspapers is constantly 55 frustrated because, although titles abound, collections are scarce and often incomplete. Although many hours of previous study and preparation had taken me to doña Teodora's kitchen, I was initially unsure of my place. Was I really an insider or were the 60 experiences that had made the lives of my interviewees such that, although I could speak Spanish and am Mexicana, I was still an outsider? I realized, nonetheless, that the richness and depth of the spoken word challenges the comforting theories and models 65 of the social sciences. Mexican history challenges social- science models derived solely from victorious imperialistic experiences. Our history cannot be written without new sources. These sources will determine which concepts are needed to 70 illuminate and interpret the past, and these concepts will emerge from the people themselves. This will permit the description of events and structures to assume a culturally relevant perspective, thus emphasizing the point of view of the Mexican people. The use of theoretical constructs must 75 follow the voices of the people who live the reality, con- sciously or not. For too long the experiences of women have been studied according to male-oriented sources and constructs. These must be questioned. For the history of Mexican people, the sources primarily exist in our own 80 worlds. And it is here where we must begin. I often found that as the memory awakened, other sources would emerge. Boxes of letters, photographs, and even manuscripts and diaries would appear. Long-standing assumptions of illiteracy were shattered and had to be reexamined. I saw 85 that constant reevaluation became the rule rather than the exception. I entered women's worlds created on the margin —not only of Anglo life, but of, and outside of, the lives of their own fathers, husbands, sons, brothers, or priests, bosses, and bureaucrats. What is the effect of the question in lines 59-62?

It suggests that sharing ethnicity and language might not be enough to make one an insider.

The author explicitly states, "although I could speak Spanish and am Mexicana," she still questions if she was "an outsider." This directly implies that despite sharing ethnicity and language, she felt there might be other experiences or factors that could still make her an outsider to her interviewees' specific life experiences. The question highlights the complexity of truly understanding and connecting with a community, even when possessing apparent commonalities.

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