The civics and government portion of the GED Social Studies test is a significant component, making up approximately 50% of the entire exam. The test is not about memorizing a long list of dates and names; instead, it focuses on your ability to understand and apply key concepts of American democracy.
The GED Social Studies test assesses a candidate's understanding of the following core areas:
Foundations of American Democracy: This includes the principles that shaped the U.S. government.
Core Concepts: Popular sovereignty (rule by the people), natural rights, constitutionalism, limited government, and the rule of law.
Key Documents: You should be familiar with the Declaration of Independence and the U.S. Constitution, as these documents define the government and protect basic rights.
Structure of the U.S. Government: You need to understand the design and function of the three branches of government.
Separation of Powers: The division of power among the legislative (Congress), executive (President), and judicial (Supreme Court) branches.
Checks and Balances: The system that prevents any one branch from becoming too powerful.
Federalism: The division of power between the federal government and state governments.
Individual Rights & Civic Responsibilities: This section covers the rights and duties of citizens.
The Bill of Rights: The first 10 amendments to the Constitution that protect individual liberties.
Civic Duties: Understand key responsibilities like serving on a jury and voting.
Political Parties, Campaigns, and Elections: This covers how the American political system functions.
Electoral Process: The basics of how elections are conducted, including the role of the Electoral College.
Public Policy: How government policies are made and what they are designed to accomplish.
The GED Social Studies test requires you to read and interpret various types of information, not just recall facts. You might be asked to analyze:
Written Texts: Excerpts from historical documents, political speeches, or news articles.
Visuals: Maps, charts, graphs, and even political cartoons.
Arguments: You'll need to identify an author's point of view, separate fact from opinion, and use evidence to support a conclusion.
The test's questions are designed to check your critical thinking skills and ability to apply civics concepts to real-world situations.
Some questions describe images or cartoons. Imagine the visual elements as you answer!
My Uncle Jules. Guy de Maupassant
A white-haired old man begged us for alms. My companion, Joseph Davranche, gave him five francs. Noticing my surprised look, he said:
"That poor unfortunate reminds me of a story which I shall tell you, the memory of which continually pursues me. Here it is:
"My family, which came originally from Havre, was not rich. We just managed to make both ends meet. My father worked hard, came home late from the office, and earned very little. I had two sisters.
"My mother suffered a good deal from our reduced circumstances, and she often had harsh words for her husband, veiled and sly reproaches. The poor man then made a gesture which used to distress me. He would pass his open hand over his forehead, as if to wipe away perspiration which did not exist, and he would answer nothing. I felt his helpless suffering. We economized on everything, and never would accept an invitation to dinner, so as not to have to return the courtesy. All our provisions were bought at bargain sales. My sisters made their own gowns, and long discussions would arise on the price of a piece of braid worth fifteen centimes a yard. Our meals usually consisted of soup and beef, prepared with every kind of sauce.
They say it is wholesome and nourishing, but I should have preferred a change.
"I used to go through terrible scenes on account of lost buttons and torn trousers.
"Every Sunday, dressed in our best, we would take our walk along the breakwater. My father, in a frock coat, high hat and kid gloves, would offer his arm to my mother, decked out and beribboned like a ship on a holiday. My sisters, who were always ready first, would await the signal for leaving; but at the last minute some one always found a spot on my father's frock coat, and it had to be wiped away quickly with a rag moistened with benzine.
"My father, in his shirt sleeves, his silk hat on his head, would await the completion of the operation, while my mother, putting on her spectacles, and taking off her gloves in order not to spoil them, would make haste.
"Then we set out ceremoniously. My sisters marched on ahead, arm in arm. They were of marriageable age and had to be displayed. I walked on the left of my mother and my father on her right. I remember the pompous air of my poor parents in these Sunday walks, their stern expression, their stiff walk. They moved slowly, with a serious expression, their bodies straight, their legs stiff, as if something of extreme importance depended upon their appearance.
"Every Sunday, when the big steamers were returning from unknown and distant countries, my father would invariably utter the same words:
"'What a surprise it would be if Jules were on that one! Eh?'
"My Uncle Jules, my father's brother, was the only hope of the family, after being its only fear. I had heard about him since childhood, and it seemed to me that I should recognize him immediately, knowing as much about him as I did. I knew every detail of his life up to the day of his departure for America, although this period of his life was spoken of only in hushed tones.
"It seems that he had led a bad life, that is to say, he had squandered a little money, which action, in a poor family, is one of the greatest crimes. With rich people a man who amuses himself only sows his wild oats. He is what is generally called a sport. But among needy families a boy who forces his parents to break into the capital becomes a good- for-nothing, a rascal, a scamp. And this distinction is just, although the action be the same, for consequences alone determine the seriousness of the act.
"Well, Uncle Jules had visibly diminished the inheritance on which my father had counted, after he had swallowed his own to the last penny. Then, according to the custom of the times, he had been shipped off to America on a freighter going from Havre to New York.
"Once there, my uncle began to sell something or other, and he soon wrote that he was making a little money and that he soon hoped to be able to indemnify my father for the harm he had done him. This letter caused a profound emotion in the family. Jules, who up to that time had not been worth his salt, suddenly became a good man, a kind-hearted fellow, true and honest like all the Davranches.
"One of the captains told us that he had rented a large shop and was doing an important business.
"Two years later a second letter came, saying: 'My dear Philippe, I am writing to tell you not to worry about my health, which is excellent. Business is good. I leave to-morrow for a long trip to South America. I may be away for several years without sending you any news. If I shouldn't write, don't worry. When my fortune is made I shall return to Havre. I hope that it will not be too long and that we shall all live happily together . . . .'
"This letter became the gospel of the family. It was read on the slightest provocation, and it was shown to everybody.
"For ten years nothing was heard from Uncle Jules; but as time went on my father's hope grew, and my mother, also, often said:
"'When that good Jules is here, our position will be different. There is one who knew how to get along!'
"And every Sunday, while watching the big steamers approaching from the horizon, pouring out a stream of smoke, my father would repeat his eternal question:
"'What a surprise it would be if Jules were on that one! Eh?'
"We almost expected to see him waving his handkerchief and crying:
"'Hey! Philippe!'
"Thousands of schemes had been planned on the strength of this expected return; we were even to buy a little house with my uncle's money --a little place in the country near Ingouville. In fact, I wouldn't swear that my father had not already begun negotiations.
"The elder of my sisters was then twenty-eight, the other twenty-six. They were not yet married, and that was a great grief to every one.
"At last a suitor presented himself for the younger one. He was a clerk, not rich, but honorable. I have always been morally certain that Uncle Jules' letter, which was shown him one evening, had swept away the young man's hesitation and definitely decided him.
"He was accepted eagerly, and it was decided that after the wedding the whole family should take a trip to Jersey.
"Jersey is the ideal trip for poor people. It is not far; one crosses a strip of sea in a steamer and lands on foreign soil, as this little island belongs to England. Thus, a Frenchman, with a two hours' sail, can observe a neighboring people at home and study their customs.
"This trip to Jersey completely absorbed our ideas, was our sole anticipation, the constant thought of our minds.
"At last we left. I see it as plainly as if it had happened yesterday. The boat was getting up steam against the quay at Granville; my father, bewildered, was superintending the loading of our three pieces of baggage; my mother, nervous, had taken the arm of my unmarried sister, who seemed lost since the departure of the other one, like the last chicken of a brood; behind us came the bride and groom, who always stayed behind, a thing that often made me turn round.
"The whistle sounded. We got on board, and the vessel, leaving the breakwater, forged ahead through a sea as flat as a marble table. We watched the coast disappear in the distance, happy and proud, like all who do not travel much.
"My father was swelling out his chest in the breeze, beneath his frock coat, which had that morning been very carefully cleaned; and he spread around him that odor of benzine which always made me recognize Sunday. Suddenly he noticed two elegantly dressed ladies to whom two gentlemen were offering oysters. An old, ragged sailor was opening them with his knife and passing them to the gentlemen, who would then offer them to the ladies. They ate them in a dainty manner, holding the shell on a fine handkerchief and advancing their mouths a little in order not to spot their dresses. Then they would drink the liquid with a rapid little motion and throw the shell overboard.
"My father was probably pleased with this delicate manner of eating oysters on a moving ship. He considered it good form, refined, and, going up to my mother and sisters, he asked:
"'Would you like me to offer you some oysters?'
"My mother hesitated on account of the expense, but my two sisters immediately accepted. My mother said in a provoked manner:
"'I am afraid that they will hurt my stomach. Offer the children some, but not too much, it would make them sick.' Then, turning toward me, she added:
"'As for Joseph, he doesn't need any. Boys shouldn't be spoiled.'
"However, I remained beside my mother, finding this discrimination unjust. I watched my father as he pompously conducted my two sisters and his son-in-law toward the ragged old sailor.
"The two ladies had just left, and my father showed my sisters how to eat them without spilling the liquor. He even tried to give them an example, and seized an oyster. He attempted to imitate the ladies, and immediately spilled all the liquid over his coat. I heard my mother mutter:
"'He would do far better to keep quiet.'
"But, suddenly, my father appeared to be worried; he retreated a few steps, stared at his family gathered around the old shell opener, and quickly came toward us. He seemed very pale, with a peculiar look. In a low voice he said to my mother:
"'It's extraordinary how that man opening the oysters looks like Jules.'
"Astonished, my mother asked:
"'What Jules?'
"My father continued:
"'Why, my brother. If I did not know that he was well off in America, I should think it was he.'
"Bewildered, my mother stammered:
"'You are crazy! As long as you know that it is not he, why do you say such foolish things?'
"But my father insisted:
"'Go on over and see, Clarisse! I would rather have you see with your own eyes.'
"She arose and walked to her daughters. I, too, was watching the man. He was old, dirty, wrinkled, and did not lift his eyes from his work.
"My mother returned. I noticed that she was trembling. She exclaimed quickly:
"'I believe that it is he. Why don't you ask the captain? But be very careful that we don't have this rogue on our hands again!'
"My father walked away, but I followed him. I felt strangely moved.
"The captain, a tall, thin man, with blond whiskers, was walking along the bridge with an important air as if he were commanding the Indian mail steamer.
"My father addressed him ceremoniously, and questioned him about his profession, adding many compliments:
"'What might be the importance of Jersey? What did it produce? What was the population? The customs? The nature of the soil?' etc., etc.
"'You have there an old shell opener who seems quite interesting. Do you know anything about him?'
"The captain, whom this conversation began to weary, answered dryly:
"'He is some old French tramp whom I found last year in America, and I brought him back. It seems that he has some relatives in Havre, but that he doesn't wish to return to them because he owes them money. His name is Jules--Jules Darmanche or Darvanche or something like that. It seems that he was once rich over there, but you can see what's left of him now.'
"My father turned ashy pale and muttered, his throat contracted, his eyes haggard.
"'Ah! ah! very well, very well. I'm not in the least surprised. Thank you very much, captain.'
"He went away, and the astonished sailor watched him disappear. He returned to my mother so upset that she said to him:
"'Sit down; some one will notice that something is the matter.'
"He sank down on a bench and stammered:
"'It's he! It's he!'
"Then he asked:
"'What are we going to do?'
"She answered quickly:
"'We must get the children out of the way. Since Joseph knows everything, he can go and get them. We must take good care that our son- in-law doesn't find out.'
"My father seemed absolutely bewildered. He murmured:
"'What a catastrophe!'
"Suddenly growing furious, my mother exclaimed:
"'I always thought that that thief never would do anything, and that he would drop down on us again! As if one could expect anything from a Davranche!'
"My father passed his hand over his forehead, as he always did when his wife reproached him. She added:
"'Give Joseph some money so that he can pay for the oysters. All that it needed to cap the climax would be to be recognized by that beggar. That would be very pleasant! Let's get down to the other end of the boat, and take care that that man doesn't come near us!'
"They gave me five francs and walked away.
"Astonished, my sisters were awaiting their father. I said that mamma had felt a sudden attack of sea-sickness, and I asked the shell opener:
"'How much do we owe you, monsieur?'
"I felt like laughing: he was my uncle! He answered:
"'Two francs fifty.'
"I held out my five francs and he returned the change. I looked at his hand; it was a poor, wrinkled, sailor's hand, and I looked at his face, an unhappy old face. I said to myself:
"'That is my uncle, the brother of my father, my uncle!'
"I gave him a ten-cent tip. He thanked me:
"'God bless you, my young sir!'
"He spoke like a poor man receiving alms. I couldn't help thinking that he must have begged over there! My sisters looked at me, surprised at my generosity. When I returned the two francs to my father, my mother asked me in surprise:
"'Was there three francs' worth? That is impossible.'
"I answered in a firm voice
"'I gave ten cents as a tip.'
"My mother started, and, staring at me, she exclaimed:
"'You must be crazy! Give ten cents to that man, to that vagabond--'
"She stopped at a look from my father, who was pointing at his son-in- law. Then everybody was silent.
"Before us, on the distant horizon, a purple shadow seemed to rise out of the sea. It was Jersey.
"As we approached the breakwater a violent desire seized me once more to see my Uncle Jules, to be near him, to say to him something consoling, something tender. But as no one was eating any more oysters, he had disappeared, having probably gone below to the dirty hold which was the home of the poor wretch."
A woman got on a bus holding a baby.
The bus driver said: "That`s the ugliest baby I`ve ever seen."
In a huff, the woman slammed her fare into the box and took an aisle seat near
the rear of the bus.
The man seated next to her sensed that she
was agitated and asked her what was wrong.
"The bus driver insulted me" she fumed.
The man sympathized and said:
"Why, he`s a public servant and shouldn't say things to insult
passengers."
"You`re right" she said. "I think I`ll go back up there and give
him a piece of my mind."
"That`s a good idea" the man said. "Here, let me hold your monkey."
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One day, as a husband was reading the
morning paper, his wife hit him over the head with a frying pan.
"What was that for?" cried the husband.
"I was doing your laundry when I found a piece of paper with the name of
Marylou on it!" screamed the wife. "Who is she? Are you cheating on
me?"
"Honey don't worry," replied her husband. "Remember when I went
to the horse race three weeks ago with my friends? Marylou was the name of the
horse I was betting on."
Satisfied, the wife continued doing the laundry. That evening, when her husband
returned from work, she again hit him with a bigger frying pan.
"What was that for?" asked the annoyed husband.
"Your horse is on the phone."
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A woman finds herself outside the Pearly Gates, where she is greeted by St. Peter. "Am I where I think I am?" she exclaims. "It's so beautiful! Did I make it to Heaven?"
"Yes, my dear, these are the Gates to Heaven. But you must do one thing before you can enter."
Very excited, the woman asks what she must do to pass through the gates.
"Spell a word," St. Peter replies.
"What word? Is it difficult to spell?" she asks.
"Any word," answers St. Peter. "It's your choice."
The woman promptly replies, "The word I will spell is love. L-O-V-E."
St. Peter congratulates her on her good fortune of making it into Heaven and asks her if she will take his place at the gates for a moment while he goes to the bathroom.
"I'd be honored," she says, "but what should I do if someone comes while you are gone?"
St. Peter instructs her to require any new comers to spell a word, just as she had done. So the woman takes St. Peter's chair and watches the beautiful angels soaring around her, when lo and behold, a man approaches the gate.
It is her ex-husband! The mean man that left her for that bitchy blondie neighbor.
"What happened?" she cries. "Why are you here?"
Her ex-husband explains, " I got into an automobile accident. Now I am here, ready to live in Heaven for all eternity."
"Not just yet," the woman replies.
"First you must spell a word."
"What word? Is it difficult to spell?" he asks.
No, it’s easy: "Czechoslovakia."
The Donkey, the Ox, & the Farmer (Arabic)
Long ago, in the upper Euphrates valley lived an old and wise farmer. Through his many years he had learned the language of many animals and talked to them as he worked with them all. He had many cattle, a magnificent ox who plowed his fields, many birds who gave him eggs and meat, and he had a donkey who gave him transportation when he needed to go to market.
One spring, after a long day plowing, the ox was selfishly complaining about how hard he worked compared to donkey. “Oh, I work all day and you just eat and drink and sit around. My days are filled with labor and sweat.”
The donkey was not compassionate at all. Instead, his leisure had made him punky, and he hatched a plan for the ox. “I am so smart, I’ve got it all figured out. Except for an occasional trip to the city, my life is a breeze. Let me tell you how to fool the plowman and that old farmer.”
The ox leaned in closer to hear the secrets of the donkey. But, unbeknownst to them both, the farmer was listening as well. “Tomorrow, after a good morning’s work, start to grunt and pant. Drop down on your belly like you are very sick. Even if the plowman beats you to get up, lie there and whine. When he takes off the yoke and leads you back here to the stable, don’t eat. Take a day or two of complete rest.”
Well, the next day, all seemed to go according to plan. The ox faked an illness, got led back to the stalls, and was offered the finest fodder, which he refused. The donkey winked to the ox, boasting that their plan had gone so well. But then the farmer turned the tables on them and said to the plowman, “Hook up the yoke to the donkey and let him plow all day!”
The following day, the farmer decided that the ox was probably still too sick and the donkey should plow another day, then another! The donkey grumbled to himself, “I should have kept my advice to myself,” when another selfish idea struck him. He turned to ox and whispered, “I heard today that the master was planning to take you to the slaughterhouse if you do not recover soon.”
The next morning the ox was wagging his tail and pawing at the ground, ready to go. The farmer hooked up the ox and the donkey and both were put to work thereafter. The ox served gladly, but the selfish donkey was forever unhappy.
Fourth Reading: a Fairy Tale
Once there was a miller who was poor, but who had a beautiful daughter. Now it happened that he had to go and speak to the king, and in order to make himself appear important he said to him, "I have a daughter who can spin straw into gold."
The king said to the miller, "That is an art which pleases me well, if your daughter is as clever as you say, bring her tomorrow to my palace, and I will put her to the test."
And when the girl was brought to him he took her into a room which was quite full of straw, gave her a spinning-wheel and a reel, and said, "Now set to work, and if by tomorrow morning early you have not spun this straw into gold during the night, you must die."
Thereupon he himself locked up the room, and left her in it alone. So there sat the poor miller's daughter, and for the life of her could not tell what to do, she had no idea how straw could be spun into gold, and she grew more and more frightened, until at last she began to weep.
But all at once the door opened, and in came a little man, and said, "Good evening, mistress miller, why are you crying so?"
"Alas," answered the girl, "I have to spin straw into gold, and I do not know how to do it."
"What will you give me," said the dwarf, "if I do it for you?"
"My necklace," said the girl.
The little man took the necklace, seated himself in front of the wheel, and whir, whirr, whirr, three turns, and the reel was full, then he put another on, and whirr, whirr, whirr, three times round, and the second was full too. And so it went on until the morning, when all the straw was spun, and all the reels were full of gold.
- 2 -
By daybreak the king was already there, and when he saw the gold he was
astonished and delighted, but his heart became only more greedy. He had the
miller's daughter taken into another room full of straw, which was much larger,
and commanded her to spin that also in one night if she valued her life. The
girl knew not how to help herself, and was crying, when the door opened again,
and the little man appeared, and said, "What will you give me if I spin
that straw into gold for you?"
"The ring on my finger," answered the girl.
The little man took the ring, again began to turn the wheel, and by morning had spun all the straw into glittering gold.
The king rejoiced beyond measure at the sight, but still he had not gold enough, and he had the miller's daughter taken into a still larger room full of straw, and said, "You must spin this, too, in the course of this night, but if you succeed, you shall be my wife."
Even if she be a miller's daughter, thought he, I could not find a richer wife in the whole world.
When the girl was alone the midget came again for the third time, and said, "What will you give me if I spin the straw for you this time also?"
"I have nothing left that I could give," answered the girl.
"Then promise me, if you should become queen, to give me your first child."
Who knows whether that will ever happen, thought the miller's daughter, and, not knowing who else to turn to for help, she promised the gnome what he wanted, and for that he once more spun the straw into gold.
And when the king came in the morning, and found all as he had wished, he took her in marriage, and the pretty miller's daughter became a queen.
- 3-
A year after, she brought a beautiful child into the world, and she never gave a thought to the manikin. But suddenly he came into her room, and said, "Now give me what you promised."
The queen was horror-struck, and offered the manikin all the riches of the kingdom if he would leave her the child. But the manikin said, "No, something alive is dearer to me than all the treasures in the world."
Then the queen began to lament and cry, so that the dwarf pitied her.
"I will give you three days, time," said he, "if by that time you find out my name, then shall you keep your child."
So the queen thought the whole night of all the names that she had ever heard, and she sent a messenger over the country to inquire, far and wide, for any other names that there might be. When the little man came the next day, she began with Caspar, Melchior, Balthazar, and said all the names she knew, one after another, but to every one the little man said, "That is not my name."
On the second day she had inquiries made in the neighborhood as to the names of the people there, and she repeated to the manikin the most uncommon and curious. Perhaps your name is Shortribs, or Sheepshanks, or Laceleg, but he always answered, "That is not my name."
- 4 -
On the third day the messenger came back again, and said, "I have not been able to find a single new name, but as I came to a high mountain at the end of the forest, where the fox and the hare bid each other good night, there I saw a little house, and before the house a fire was burning, and round about the fire quite a ridiculous little man was jumping, he hopped upon one leg, and shouted -
'Today I bake, tomorrow brew,
the next I'll have the young queen's child.
Ha, glad am I that no one knew
that Rumpelstiltskin I am called.'"
You may imagine how glad the queen was when she heard the name. And when soon afterwards the little man came in, and asked, "Now, mistress queen, what is my name?"
At first she said, "Is your name Conrad?"
"No."
"Is your name Harry?"
"No."
"Perhaps your name is Rumpelstiltskin?"
"The devil has told you that! The devil has told you that," cried the little man, and in his anger he plunged his right foot so deep into the earth that his whole leg went in, and then in rage he pulled at his left leg so hard with both hands that he tore himself in two.
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