Đề ôn thi Đề thi vào lớp 10 Trường THPT Chuyên KHXH môn Tiếng Anh - Mã đề KHXH-136

A (35) __________ misconception about the seasons is that they are caused by Earth's changing distance from the Sun. Many people believe that Earth is closer to the Sun in summer and farther away in winter. While our planet's orbit is slightly elliptical, this distance variation is not the primary reason for the change in seasons. The real cause is something far more interesting and fundamental to our planet's position in space.

The actual reason for the seasons is the tilt of Earth’s axis. Imagine an imaginary line running from the North Pole to the South Pole; this is Earth's axis of rotation. However, this axis is not straight up and down. Instead, it is tilted at an angle of about 23.5 degrees. (36) __________ means that as the Earth travels around the Sun, different parts of the planet receive the Sun's rays more directly at different times of the year.

As the Earth (37) __________ its year-long orbit around the Sun, this axial tilt remains pointed in the same direction in space. This causes one hemisphere to be tilted towards the Sun while the other is tilted away. The hemisphere tilted towards the Sun experiences summer because the sunlight hitting it is (38) __________ and concentrated. This leads to longer days and warmer temperatures.

(39) __________, the hemisphere tilted away from the Sun receives less direct, more spread-out sunlight. The sun's rays arrive at a lower angle, which means the energy is less intense. This results in shorter days and colder temperatures, which is why this hemisphere (40) __________ experience winter. The spring and autumn seasons are transitional periods when neither hemisphere is tilted significantly toward or away from the Sun.

(41) __________ that this constant tilt, rather than a variable distance, is the key factor. The effect is entirely about the angle of sunlight. (42) __________, it is the orientation of Earth’s axis relative to the Sun, not its proximity, that governs the cycle of seasons, giving us the wonderful variety of weather we experience throughout the year.

In a bustling alley in Hanoi's Old Quarter, the scent of star anise, cinnamon, and simmering beef broth fills the air. This is the home of Phở Gia Truyền, a fictional but representative family-run restaurant that has been serving the same, iconic bowl of pho for nearly a century. Every morning, long before the city awakens, the current owner, Mr. Bao, begins the meticulous process passed down from his great-grandfather. For generations of Hanoians and tourists alike, the restaurant is not just a place to eat; it is an institution, a taste of history that has remained unchanged.

For the family, this culinary legacy is a profound source of pride and identity. The secret recipe is their most valuable asset, a treasure that has provided a stable income and secured their place in the community. Loyal customers return year after year, not for novelty, but for the comfort of its consistency. They seek the authentic flavor they remember from their childhoods. This connection to the past and the community is something Mr. Bao cherishes, and he feels a deep responsibility to preserve it for the future.

However, for Mr. Bao's 15-year-old son, Minh, this legacy feels less like a treasure and more like a heavy burden. Minh is a creative teenager with a passion for digital art and modern design. While he respects his family's history, the thought of spending his entire life in a hot kitchen, repeating the exact same steps day after day, feels daunting. The pressure to become the next 'keeper of the flame' is immense. His dreams of attending a university for graphic design clash with his father's expectation that he will one day take over the restaurant.

This dilemma is not unique to Minh's family. Across Vietnam and around the world, many historic family businesses face a similar crossroads. The older generation values tradition and continuity, while the younger generation often seeks personal fulfillment and new opportunities that their parents never had. If they choose to follow their own paths, who will preserve these precious traditions? But if they are forced to sacrifice their dreams, what is the cost to their own happiness and potential?

Ultimately, the story of Phở Gia Truyền poses a difficult question. How can families balance the preservation of a cherished heritage with the individual aspirations of the next generation? Is it possible to adapt a tradition without losing its soul, or is the choice simply between preservation and personal freedom? The answer remains as complex and layered as the broth simmering in Mr. Bao’s kitchen.