A complete literary argument free-response question with model answers. Write your own response first, then reveal the model to see exactly how each part earns its point.
For thirty years, Hollis had measured his worth in the size of his harvest, and for thirty years the orchard had obliged him, until the year the frost came late and took everything in a single night. He did not tell his daughter Ruth about the loss until she arrived for what she thought was an ordinary visit and found him sitting at the kitchen table with the bank's letter spread out like a hand of cards he had already lost.
It was Old Pruitt, the man who'd sharpened Hollis's pruning shears every spring for as long as anyone could remember, who said the thing that finally broke something open in him. Pruitt came by not to discuss the orchard at all, but to return a ladder he'd borrowed two autumns prior, and on his way out, almost as an afterthought, he said: "You know, your father used to say a good year and a bad year teach you the same thing, if you're paying attention. Most people only do their listening in the bad ones." Then he was gone, ladder under his arm, gate creaking shut behind him, never to appear again in this story.
Hollis sat with that sentence for three days. He had spent thirty years believing the orchard's yield was a verdict on his character — that abundance meant he had been good, and now scarcity must mean the opposite. But Pruitt's offhand remark, delivered by a man who wanted nothing from him and had no stake in his answer, cracked the foundation of that belief. He understood, finally and all at once, that he had mistaken the orchard's weather for his own worth, and that thirty years of good harvests had taught him nothing precisely because he'd never needed to ask what they meant.
He sold off half the failing acreage that spring — not in defeat, but because he no longer needed all of it to prove something to himself. What remained, he and Ruth replanted together, slower this time, with trees that wouldn't bear fruit for years. The novel does not tell us whether this smaller orchard ever recovers its old yields. It tells us only that Hollis stopped checking the scales each November, and that this, more than any harvest, was the change Ruth had been waiting her whole life to see.