Loading...

Washington History Unit 2 Review
Quiz by Brady Baildon
Customize this quiz to suit your class
Instantly translate to 100+ languages
Tag the questions with any skills you have. Your dashboard will track each student's mastery of each skill.
Give this quiz to my class
Washington State History Unit 1 Review
Washington State History: Legacy of Washington Tribes Pre-Test
A Brief History of Washington’s Crossing of the Delaware River, Christmas Night 1776... In the fall of 1776, General George Washington and his army had suffered a series of defeats at the hands of the British Army. The Continental Army had lost every battle with the British in the New York campaign: Long Island, Manhattan, Brooklyn Heights, Harlem and White Plains and had surrendered Fort Washington and Fort Lee. At Fort Lee, the army barely escaped and was forced to leave behind its store of provisions, ammunition, and many of its weapons. A sense of defeat had settled around Washington as he was forced to retreat across New Jersey in November and finally to Pennsylvania on December 8, 1776. The British, at least, considered the war over. By December 11th, the only reason the British had not taken Philadelphia, the seat of the Continental Congress, was that Washington had ordered every boat in the Delaware River on the New Jersey side to be brought to the Pennsylvania side, thus denying the British army transportation. Washington knew that the British would be capable of resuming an offensive by crossing the Delaware once it iced over. As the harsh winter set in, the morale of the American troops was at an all-time low. The soldiers were forced to deal with a lack of both food and warm clothing, while Washington watched his army shrink because of desertions and expiring enlistments. Now, more than ever, a victory was desperately needed. Washington devised a courageous plan to take the offensive and cross the Delaware River on Christmas night and attack the Hessian garrison at Trenton, New Jersey, nine miles south of his encampment near McConkey's Ferry. The original plan called for three divisions to cross the Delaware under the cover of darkness. Lt. Col. John Cadwalader's division was to cross at Bristol and engage the southern most contingent of British forces — Hessian troops under the command of Colonel von Donop. General James Ewing's division was to cross at Trenton Ferry and take a position south of Assunpink Creek below Trenton and hold the bridge over that stream. Washington's division was to cross at McConkey's Ferry and then divide into two corps under General Nathanael Greene and General John Sullivan. Their point of attack was Trenton and the Hessian troops quartered there under the command of Colonel Johann Gottlieb Rall. The boats to be used for the crossing were gathered earlier in the month in compliance with General Washington's orders, primarily as a defensive measure. Various types of boats had been collected, most notably the large Durham boats used to carry pig iron down the Delaware to the Philadelphia markets. There were a number of problems in moving a large number of men, cannons, and supplies in an age when overland transportation was by foot and animal power. The roads were rutted and winding. There were no bridges over major rivers because the technology did not exist to span great distances. A river like the Delaware was crossed by ferry, sometimes out of service because of ice floes or floods, and certainly not designed to carry masses of men and equipment across quickly. A river could be a formidable natural barrier to an army on the move. Washington had several logistical concerns for the crossing. In addition to the troops were the cannon; each of which required at least two horses to pull it. The heavier twelve pounders, and probably the eight pounders, had four horses. There would have been between four and six ammunitions wagons. Officers of the rank of colonel or higher may have had horses. In sum, Washington had to move 2,400 men, eighteen cannons, at least four ammunition wagons and fifty to seventy-five horses across the Delaware River the night of December 25, 1776. Fully expecting to be supported by Cadwalader's and Ewing's divisions south of Trenton, Washington assembled his own troops near McKonkey's Ferry in preparation for the crossing. By 6:00 pm, 2,400 men had begun crossing the ice-chocked river. There was an abrupt change in the weather, forcing the men to fight their way through sleet and a blinding snowstorm. The river was flooded with sheets of ice moving at eleven or twelve miles per hour. These obstacles proved to be too much for the two supporting divisions led by Generals Cadwalader and Ewing, who did not cross at their assigned points along the river. It was Washington's pure force of will and determination that led to his troops' successful crossing of the river. Increasing Washington's odds were the sailors of Marblehead, Massachusetts. This group of hardened seamen, led by Col. John Glover, were used to the Nor'easters of New England. Sheer determination and muscles conditioned to the demands of rowing under the weather conditions now facing the Continental army enabled the Marbleheaders to row back and forth across the Delaware countless times. During the time of the Revolution, American soldiers marched single file along the margins of the roads. They were only assembled into a battle line (three deep) when they reached the battlefield. The battle plan had Washington's army marching in two divisions... General Greene's and General Sullivan's. They made a night march in two columns on separate roads, a very tricky operation that was prone to failure since the columns needed to arrive at the battlefield at the same time to carry out the surprise attack planned by Washington. The American army carried out the march flawlessly. Against all odds, Washington and his men successfully completed the crossing and marched to Trenton on the morning of December 26th and, in the resulting battle, achieved a resounding victory over the Hessians. By moving ahead with his bold and daring plan, General Washington reignited the cause of freedom and gave new life to the American Revolution.
Test 2 History Armistead, Jefferson Henry and Washington
The Civil Rights Movement in the United States was a pivotal period in history that aimed to secure equal rights and end segregation and discrimination against Black Americans. Let's explore some key aspects of this important movement: Which movement fought for equal rights for Black Americans? The Civil Rights Movement What was one of the main goals of the Civil Rights Movement? Ending racial segregation and discrimination Who was a prominent leader in the Civil Rights Movement known for his "I Have a Dream" speech? Martin Luther King Jr. Where did the famous bus boycott led by Rosa Parks take place? Montgomery, Alabama What event marked the beginning of the Civil Rights Movement? Rosa Parks' bus boycott Which organization was founded by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. to fight against racial segregation and discrimination? SCLC (Southern Christian Leadership Conference) The Civil Rights Act of 1964 aimed to: End racial segregation What peaceful protest did Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. lead in Washington D.C.? March on Washington Which event led to the passage of the Voting Rights Act of 1965? Bloody Sunday in Selma Who was the first Black student to desegregate an all-white school in the South? Ruby Bridges What impact did the Civil Rights Act of 1964 have on U.S. society? Ended racial segregation in public places The Civil Rights Movement inspired other movements for equality, including the: Women's Rights Movement Which city was the location of a series of nonviolent protests led by Dr. King in 1963? Birmingham The Civil Rights Act of 1968 aimed to prevent: Discrimination in housing What was the purpose of the sit-in movement during the Civil Rights Movement? To protest against racial segregation Who inspired the Montgomery Bus Boycott by refusing to give up her seat to a white passenger? Rosa Parks What form of protest did students use during the Civil Rights Movement to challenge segregation at lunch counters? Sit-ins Which Supreme Court case declared state laws establishing separate public schools for Black and White students unconstitutional? Brown v. Board of Education In what state did the famous Selma to Montgomery March for voting rights take place in 1965? Alabama What strategy did Civil Rights activists use to draw attention to their cause, as exemplified by the Birmingham Campaign? Nonviolent direct action
“There’s No Such Thing as Sound Science” by By Christie Aschwanden was a lead science writer for FiveThirtyEight. FiveThirtyEight, Science, Dec. 6, 2017 Science is being turned against itself. For decades, its twin ideals of transparency and rigor have been weaponized by those who disagree with results produced by the scientific method. Under the Trump administration, that fight has ramped up again. In a move ostensibly meant to reduce conflicts of interest, Environmental Protection Agency Administrator Scott Pruitt has removed a number of scientists from advisory panels and replaced some of them with representatives from industries that the agency regulates. Like many in the Trump administration, Pruitt has also cast doubt on the reliability of climate science. For instance, in an interview with CNBC, Pruitt said that “measuring with precision human activity on the climate is something very challenging to do.” Similarly, Trump’s pick to head NASA, an agency that oversees a large portion the nation’s climate research, has insisted that research into human influence on climate lacks certainty, and he falsely claimed that “global temperatures stopped rising 10 years ago.” Kathleen Hartnett White, Trump’s nominee to head the White House Council on Environmental Quality, said in a Senate hearing last month that she thinks we “need to have more precise explanations of the human role and the natural role” in climate change. The same entreaties crop up again and again: We need to root out conflicts. We need more precise evidence. What makes these arguments so powerful is that they sound quite similar to the points raised by proponents of a very different call for change that’s coming from within science. This other movement strives to produce more robust, reproducible findings. Despite having dissimilar goals, the two forces espouse principles that look surprisingly alike: Science needs to be transparent. Results and methods should be openly shared so that outside researchers can independently reproduce and validate them. The methods used to collect and analyze data should be rigorous and clear, and conclusions must be supported by evidence. These are the arguments underlying an “open science” reform movement that was created, in part, as a response to a “reproducibility crisis” that has struck some fields of science.1 But they’re also used as talking points by politicians who are working to make it more difficult for the EPA and other federal agencies to use science in their regulatory decision-making, under the guise of basing policy on “sound science.” Science’s virtues are being wielded against it. What distinguishes the two calls for transparency is intent: Whereas the “open science” movement aims to make science more reliable, reproducible and robust, proponents of “sound science” have historically worked to amplify uncertainty, create doubt and undermine scientific discoveries that threaten their interests. “Our criticisms are founded in a confidence in science,” said Steven Goodman, co-director of the Meta-Research Innovation Center at Stanford and a proponent of open science. “That’s a fundamental difference — we’re critiquing science to make it better. Others are critiquing it to devalue the approach itself.” Calls to base public policy on “sound science” seem unassailable if you don’t know the term’s history. The phrase was adopted by the tobacco industry in the 1990s to counteract mounting evidence linking secondhand smoke to cancer. A 1992 Environmental Protection Agency report identified secondhand smoke as a human carcinogen, and Philip Morris responded by launching an initiative to promote what it called “sound science.” In an internal memo, Philip Morris vice president of corporate affairs Ellen Merlo wrote that the program was designed to “discredit the EPA report,” “prevent states and cities, as well as businesses from passing smoking bans” and “proactively” pass legislation to help their cause. The sound science tactic exploits a fundamental feature of the scientific process: Science does not produce absolute certainty. Contrary to how it’s sometimes represented to the public, science is not a magic wand that turns everything it touches to truth. Instead, it’s a process of uncertainty reduction, much like a game of 20 Questions. Any given study can rarely answer more than one question at a time, and each study usually raises a bunch of new questions in the process of answering old ones. “Science is a process rather than an answer,” said psychologist Alison Ledgerwood of the University of California, Davis. Every answer is provisional and subject to change in the face of new evidence. It’s not entirely correct to say that “this study proves this fact,” Ledgerwood said. “We should be talking instead about how science increases or decreases our confidence in something.” The tobacco industry’s brilliant tactic was to turn this baked-in uncertainty against the scientific enterprise itself. While insisting that they merely wanted to ensure that public policy was based on sound science, tobacco companies defined the term in a way that ensured that no science could ever be sound enough. The only sound science was certain science, which is an impossible standard to achieve. “Doubt is our product,” wrote one employee of the Brown & Williamson tobacco company in a 1969 internal memo. The note went on to say that doubt “is the best means of competing with the ‘body of fact’” and “establishing a controversy.” These strategies for undermining inconvenient science were so effective that they’ve served as a sort of playbook for industry interests ever since, said Stanford University science historian Robert Proctor. The sound science push is no longer just Philip Morris sowing doubt about the links between cigarettes and cancer. It’s also a 1998 action plan by the American Petroleum Institute, Chevron and Exxon Mobil to “install uncertainty” about the link between greenhouse gas emissions and climate change. It’s industry-funded groups’ late-1990s effort to question the science the EPA was using to set fine-particle-pollution air-quality standards that the industry didn’t want. And then there was the more recent effort by Dow Chemical to insist on more scientific certainty before banning a pesticide that the EPA’s scientists had deemed risky to children. Now comes a move by the Trump administration’s EPA to repeal a 2015 rule on wetlands protection by disregarding particular studies. (To name just a few examples.) Doubt merchants aren’t pushing for knowledge, they’re practicing what Proctor has dubbed “agnogenesis” — the intentional manufacture of ignorance. This ignorance isn’t simply the absence of knowing something; it’s a lack of comprehension deliberately created by agents who don’t want you to know, Proctor said.2 In the hands of doubt-makers, transparency becomes a rhetorical move. “It’s really difficult as a scientist or policy maker to make a stand against transparency and openness, because well, who would be against it?” said Karen Levy, researcher on information science at Cornell University. But at the same time, “you can couch everything in the language of transparency and it becomes a powerful weapon.” For instance, when the EPA was preparing to set new limits on particulate pollution in the 1990s, industry groups pushed back against the research and demanded access to primary data (including records that researchers had promised participants would remain confidential) and a reanalysis of the evidence. Their calls succeeded and a new analysis was performed. The reanalysis essentially confirmed the original conclusions, but the process of conducting it delayed the implementation of regulations and cost researchers time and money. Delay is a time-tested strategy. “Gridlock is the greatest friend a global warming skeptic has,” said Marc Morano, a prominent critic of global warming research and the executive director of ClimateDepot.com, in the documentary “Merchants of Doubt” (based on the book by the same name). Morano’s site is a project of the Committee for a Constructive Tomorrow, which has received funding from the oil and gas industry. “We’re the negative force. We’re just trying to stop stuff.” Some of these ploys are getting a fresh boost from Congress. The Data Quality Act (also known as the Information Quality Act) was reportedly written by an industry lobbyist and quietly passed as part of an appropriations bill in 2000. The rule mandates that federal agencies ensure the “quality, objectivity, utility, and integrity of information” that they disseminate, though it does little to define what these terms mean. The law also provides a mechanism for citizens and groups to challenge information that they deem inaccurate, including science that they disagree with. “It was passed in this very quiet way with no explicit debate about it — that should tell you a lot about the real goals,” Levy said. But what’s most telling about the Data Quality Act is how it’s been used, Levy said. A 2004 Washington Post analysis found that in the 20 months following its implementation, the act was repeatedly used by industry groups to push back against proposed regulations and bog down the decision-making process. Instead of deploying transparency as a fundamental principle that applies to all science, these interests have used transparency as a weapon to attack very particular findings that they would like to eradicate. Now Congress is considering another way to legislate how science is used. The Honest Act, a bill sponsored by Rep. Lamar Smith of Texas,3 is another example of what Levy calls a “Trojan horse” law that uses the language of transparency as a cover to achieve other political goals. Smith’s legislation would severely limit the kind of evidence the EPA could use for decision-making. Only studies whose raw data and computer codes were publicly available would be allowed for consideration. That might sound perfectly reasonable, and in many cases it is, Goodman said. But sometimes there are good reasons why researchers can’t conform to these rules, like when the data contains confidential or sensitive medical information.4 Critics, which include more than a dozen scientific organizations, argue that, in practice, the rules would prevent many studies from being considered in EPA reviews.5 It might seem like an easy task to sort good science from bad, but in reality it’s not so simple. “There’s a misplaced idea that we can definitively distinguish the good from the not-good science, but it’s all a matter of degree,” said Brian Nosek, executive director of the Center for Open Science. “There is no perfect study.” Requiring regulators to wait until they have (nonexistent) perfect evidence is essentially “a way of saying, ‘We don’t want to use evidence for our decision-making,’” Nosek said. Most scientific controversies aren’t about science at all, and once the sides are drawn, more data is unlikely to bring opponents into agreement. Michael Carolan, who researches the sociology of technology and scientific knowledge at Colorado State University, wrote in a 2008 paper about why objective knowledge is not enough to resolve environmental controversies. “While these controversies may appear on the surface to rest on disputed questions of fact, beneath often reside differing positions of value; values that can give shape to differing understandings of what ‘the facts’ are.” What’s needed in these cases isn’t more or better science, but mechanisms to bring those hidden values to the forefront of the discussion so that they can be debated transparently. “As long as we continue down this unabashedly naive road about what science is, and what it is capable of doing, we will continue to fail to reach any sort of meaningful consensus on these matters,” Carolan writes. The dispute over tobacco was never about the science of cigarettes’ link to cancer. It was about whether companies have the right to sell dangerous products and, if so, what obligations they have to the consumers who purchased them. Similarly, the debate over climate change isn’t about whether our planet is heating, but about how much responsibility each country and person bears for stopping it. While researching her book “Merchants of Doubt,” science historian Naomi Oreskes found that some of the same people who were defending the tobacco industry as scientific experts were also receiving industry money to deny the role of human activity in global warming. What these issues had in common, she realized, was that they all involved the need for government action. “None of this is about the science. All of this is a political debate about the role of government,” she said in the documentary. These controversies are really about values, not scientific facts, and acknowledging that would allow us to have more truthful and productive debates. What would that look like in practice? Instead of cherry-picking evidence to support a particular view (and insisting that the science points to a desired action), the various sides could lay out the values they are using to assess the evidence. For instance, in Europe, many decisions are guided by the precautionary principle — a system that values caution in the face of uncertainty and says that when the risks are unclear, it should be up to industries to show that their products and processes are not harmful, rather than requiring the government to prove that they are harmful before they can be regulated. By contrast, U.S. agencies tend to wait for strong evidence of harm before issuing regulations. Both approaches have critics, but the difference between them comes down to priorities: Is it better to exercise caution at the risk of burdening companies and perhaps the economy, or is it more important to avoid potential economic downsides even if it means that sometimes a harmful product or industrial process goes unregulated? In other words, under what circumstances do we agree to act on a risk? How certain do we need to be that the risk is real, and how many people would need to be at risk, and how costly is it to reduce that risk? Those are moral questions, not scientific ones, and openly discussing and identifying these kinds of judgment calls would lead to a more honest debate. Science matters, and we need to do it as rigorously as possible. But science can’t tell us how risky is too risky to allow products like cigarettes or potentially harmful pesticides to be sold — those are value judgements that only humans can make.
Washington
Washington's Presidency Quiz