Làm thử Đề thi thử tốt nghiệp THPT · Tiếng Anh · Đề 105

Question 16. a. As more people move from the countryside to cities in search of jobs, urban populations continue to grow rapidly.
b. This rapid growth, however, often puts pressure on housing, transport and public services.
c. As a result, city authorities are having to invest heavily in new infrastructure.
d. Some governments are also encouraging people to settle in smaller towns instead.
e. In the long run, this may help to balance development between urban and rural areas.

For decades, many fast-growing cities treated public transport as an afterthought, pouring investment into new roads and flyovers instead. Today, however, urban planners are rethinking that approach. Traffic jams have become so severe in some metropolitan areas that private cars can no longer be considered a practical way to get to work. Faced with worsening congestion and rising pollution levels, city governments are now pouring billions of dollars into buses, trains and metro lines. Officials argue that a reliable public transport network is not a luxury but a basic requirement for a functioning modern city.

One of the clearest examples of this shift can be seen in the growth of urban rail systems. A decade ago, only a handful of Asian cities operated a metro network; now dozens do, carrying millions of passengers every single day. Planners point out that a single metro line can move as many people in an hour as ten lanes of motorway traffic, while producing a fraction of the carbon emissions. Bus systems have also been transformed, with many cities introducing dedicated lanes that allow buses to bypass congested traffic entirely.

For decades, many fast-growing cities treated public transport as an afterthought, pouring investment into new roads and flyovers instead. Today, however, urban planners are rethinking that approach. Traffic jams have become so severe in some metropolitan areas that private cars can no longer be considered a practical way to get to work. Faced with worsening congestion and rising pollution levels, city governments are now pouring billions of dollars into buses, trains and metro lines. Officials argue that a reliable public transport network is not a luxury but a basic requirement for a functioning modern city.

One of the clearest examples of this shift can be seen in the growth of urban rail systems. A decade ago, only a handful of Asian cities operated a metro network; now dozens do, carrying millions of passengers every single day. Planners point out that a single metro line can move as many people in an hour as ten lanes of motorway traffic, while producing a fraction of the carbon emissions. Bus systems have also been transformed, with many cities introducing dedicated lanes that allow buses to bypass congested traffic entirely.

For decades, many fast-growing cities treated public transport as an afterthought, pouring investment into new roads and flyovers instead. Today, however, urban planners are rethinking that approach. Traffic jams have become so severe in some metropolitan areas that private cars can no longer be considered a practical way to get to work. Faced with worsening congestion and rising pollution levels, city governments are now pouring billions of dollars into buses, trains and metro lines. Officials argue that a reliable public transport network is not a luxury but a basic requirement for a functioning modern city.

One of the clearest examples of this shift can be seen in the growth of urban rail systems. A decade ago, only a handful of Asian cities operated a metro network; now dozens do, carrying millions of passengers every single day. Planners point out that a single metro line can move as many people in an hour as ten lanes of motorway traffic, while producing a fraction of the carbon emissions. Bus systems have also been transformed, with many cities introducing dedicated lanes that allow buses to bypass congested traffic entirely.

For decades, many fast-growing cities treated public transport as an afterthought, pouring investment into new roads and flyovers instead. Today, however, urban planners are rethinking that approach. Traffic jams have become so severe in some metropolitan areas that private cars can no longer be considered a practical way to get to work. Faced with worsening congestion and rising pollution levels, city governments are now pouring billions of dollars into buses, trains and metro lines. Officials argue that a reliable public transport network is not a luxury but a basic requirement for a functioning modern city.

One of the clearest examples of this shift can be seen in the growth of urban rail systems. A decade ago, only a handful of Asian cities operated a metro network; now dozens do, carrying millions of passengers every single day. Planners point out that a single metro line can move as many people in an hour as ten lanes of motorway traffic, while producing a fraction of the carbon emissions. Bus systems have also been transformed, with many cities introducing dedicated lanes that allow buses to bypass congested traffic entirely.

For decades, many fast-growing cities treated public transport as an afterthought, pouring investment into new roads and flyovers instead. Today, however, urban planners are rethinking that approach. Traffic jams have become so severe in some metropolitan areas that private cars can no longer be considered a practical way to get to work. Faced with worsening congestion and rising pollution levels, city governments are now pouring billions of dollars into buses, trains and metro lines. Officials argue that a reliable public transport network is not a luxury but a basic requirement for a functioning modern city.

One of the clearest examples of this shift can be seen in the growth of urban rail systems. A decade ago, only a handful of Asian cities operated a metro network; now dozens do, carrying millions of passengers every single day. Planners point out that a single metro line can move as many people in an hour as ten lanes of motorway traffic, while producing a fraction of the carbon emissions. Bus systems have also been transformed, with many cities introducing dedicated lanes that allow buses to bypass congested traffic entirely.

For decades, many fast-growing cities treated public transport as an afterthought, pouring investment into new roads and flyovers instead. Today, however, urban planners are rethinking that approach. Traffic jams have become so severe in some metropolitan areas that private cars can no longer be considered a practical way to get to work. Faced with worsening congestion and rising pollution levels, city governments are now pouring billions of dollars into buses, trains and metro lines. Officials argue that a reliable public transport network is not a luxury but a basic requirement for a functioning modern city.

One of the clearest examples of this shift can be seen in the growth of urban rail systems. A decade ago, only a handful of Asian cities operated a metro network; now dozens do, carrying millions of passengers every single day. Planners point out that a single metro line can move as many people in an hour as ten lanes of motorway traffic, while producing a fraction of the carbon emissions. Bus systems have also been transformed, with many cities introducing dedicated lanes that allow buses to bypass congested traffic entirely.

For decades, many fast-growing cities treated public transport as an afterthought, pouring investment into new roads and flyovers instead. Today, however, urban planners are rethinking that approach. Traffic jams have become so severe in some metropolitan areas that private cars can no longer be considered a practical way to get to work. Faced with worsening congestion and rising pollution levels, city governments are now pouring billions of dollars into buses, trains and metro lines. Officials argue that a reliable public transport network is not a luxury but a basic requirement for a functioning modern city.

One of the clearest examples of this shift can be seen in the growth of urban rail systems. A decade ago, only a handful of Asian cities operated a metro network; now dozens do, carrying millions of passengers every single day. Planners point out that a single metro line can move as many people in an hour as ten lanes of motorway traffic, while producing a fraction of the carbon emissions. Bus systems have also been transformed, with many cities introducing dedicated lanes that allow buses to bypass congested traffic entirely.

For decades, many fast-growing cities treated public transport as an afterthought, pouring investment into new roads and flyovers instead. Today, however, urban planners are rethinking that approach. Traffic jams have become so severe in some metropolitan areas that private cars can no longer be considered a practical way to get to work. Faced with worsening congestion and rising pollution levels, city governments are now pouring billions of dollars into buses, trains and metro lines. Officials argue that a reliable public transport network is not a luxury but a basic requirement for a functioning modern city.

One of the clearest examples of this shift can be seen in the growth of urban rail systems. A decade ago, only a handful of Asian cities operated a metro network; now dozens do, carrying millions of passengers every single day. Planners point out that a single metro line can move as many people in an hour as ten lanes of motorway traffic, while producing a fraction of the carbon emissions. Bus systems have also been transformed, with many cities introducing dedicated lanes that allow buses to bypass congested traffic entirely.

Nowadays, taking a year off between finishing school and starting university, commonly known as a gap year, is a familiar idea to many students around the world. Yet this practice has a longer and more surprising history than most people realise. The idea seemed unusual to most families at the time. In the 1960s, a small number of young Britons began travelling overland to India and Southeast Asia in the months before university began, partly out of curiosity and partly to delay the responsibilities of adult life. What started as an informal habit among a handful of adventurous students gradually developed into an established tradition.

[I] By the 1970s, several charities in the United Kingdom had begun organising structured gap-year placements, sending young volunteers abroad to teach or work on community projects. [II] These early programmes were often poorly funded and loosely supervised, and volunteers sometimes found themselves in unfamiliar, even risky, situations with little support. [III] Even so, word of these life-changing experiences spread quickly among school leavers, and demand for organised placements grew steadily throughout the following decades. [IV] Universities eventually took notice, and some began actively encouraging applicants to consider taking a year out before enrolling.

Supporters of gap years argue that a well-planned year away from formal study can build independence, cultural awareness and practical skills that a classroom cannot easily provide. It is this sense of independence that many supporters value most. Employers, too, have increasingly come to view a thoughtfully spent gap year as evidence of maturity and initiative rather than as a wasted year. Critics, however, point out that not every gap year is equally valuable. A year spent volunteering meaningfully is very different from a year spent simply working to save money or travelling without any clear purpose, and the two should not automatically be judged in the same way.

Today, gap years have become a global phenomenon, no longer limited to wealthy students from a handful of countries. Universities in many parts of the world have been offering formal deferred-entry schemes for years, and a whole industry of gap-year consultants and programme providers has emerged to guide students through their options. What began as a quiet, unplanned adventure for a small group of British teenagers has grown into a recognised, and sometimes carefully engineered, rite of passage for millions of young people.

Nowadays, taking a year off between finishing school and starting university, commonly known as a gap year, is a familiar idea to many students around the world. Yet this practice has a longer and more surprising history than most people realise. The idea seemed unusual to most families at the time. In the 1960s, a small number of young Britons began travelling overland to India and Southeast Asia in the months before university began, partly out of curiosity and partly to delay the responsibilities of adult life. What started as an informal habit among a handful of adventurous students gradually developed into an established tradition.

[I] By the 1970s, several charities in the United Kingdom had begun organising structured gap-year placements, sending young volunteers abroad to teach or work on community projects. [II] These early programmes were often poorly funded and loosely supervised, and volunteers sometimes found themselves in unfamiliar, even risky, situations with little support. [III] Even so, word of these life-changing experiences spread quickly among school leavers, and demand for organised placements grew steadily throughout the following decades. [IV] Universities eventually took notice, and some began actively encouraging applicants to consider taking a year out before enrolling.

Supporters of gap years argue that a well-planned year away from formal study can build independence, cultural awareness and practical skills that a classroom cannot easily provide. It is this sense of independence that many supporters value most. Employers, too, have increasingly come to view a thoughtfully spent gap year as evidence of maturity and initiative rather than as a wasted year. Critics, however, point out that not every gap year is equally valuable. A year spent volunteering meaningfully is very different from a year spent simply working to save money or travelling without any clear purpose, and the two should not automatically be judged in the same way.

Today, gap years have become a global phenomenon, no longer limited to wealthy students from a handful of countries. Universities in many parts of the world have been offering formal deferred-entry schemes for years, and a whole industry of gap-year consultants and programme providers has emerged to guide students through their options. What began as a quiet, unplanned adventure for a small group of British teenagers has grown into a recognised, and sometimes carefully engineered, rite of passage for millions of young people.

Nowadays, taking a year off between finishing school and starting university, commonly known as a gap year, is a familiar idea to many students around the world. Yet this practice has a longer and more surprising history than most people realise. The idea seemed unusual to most families at the time. In the 1960s, a small number of young Britons began travelling overland to India and Southeast Asia in the months before university began, partly out of curiosity and partly to delay the responsibilities of adult life. What started as an informal habit among a handful of adventurous students gradually developed into an established tradition.

[I] By the 1970s, several charities in the United Kingdom had begun organising structured gap-year placements, sending young volunteers abroad to teach or work on community projects. [II] These early programmes were often poorly funded and loosely supervised, and volunteers sometimes found themselves in unfamiliar, even risky, situations with little support. [III] Even so, word of these life-changing experiences spread quickly among school leavers, and demand for organised placements grew steadily throughout the following decades. [IV] Universities eventually took notice, and some began actively encouraging applicants to consider taking a year out before enrolling.

Supporters of gap years argue that a well-planned year away from formal study can build independence, cultural awareness and practical skills that a classroom cannot easily provide. It is this sense of independence that many supporters value most. Employers, too, have increasingly come to view a thoughtfully spent gap year as evidence of maturity and initiative rather than as a wasted year. Critics, however, point out that not every gap year is equally valuable. A year spent volunteering meaningfully is very different from a year spent simply working to save money or travelling without any clear purpose, and the two should not automatically be judged in the same way.

Today, gap years have become a global phenomenon, no longer limited to wealthy students from a handful of countries. Universities in many parts of the world have been offering formal deferred-entry schemes for years, and a whole industry of gap-year consultants and programme providers has emerged to guide students through their options. What began as a quiet, unplanned adventure for a small group of British teenagers has grown into a recognised, and sometimes carefully engineered, rite of passage for millions of young people.

Nowadays, taking a year off between finishing school and starting university, commonly known as a gap year, is a familiar idea to many students around the world. Yet this practice has a longer and more surprising history than most people realise. The idea seemed unusual to most families at the time. In the 1960s, a small number of young Britons began travelling overland to India and Southeast Asia in the months before university began, partly out of curiosity and partly to delay the responsibilities of adult life. What started as an informal habit among a handful of adventurous students gradually developed into an established tradition.

[I] By the 1970s, several charities in the United Kingdom had begun organising structured gap-year placements, sending young volunteers abroad to teach or work on community projects. [II] These early programmes were often poorly funded and loosely supervised, and volunteers sometimes found themselves in unfamiliar, even risky, situations with little support. [III] Even so, word of these life-changing experiences spread quickly among school leavers, and demand for organised placements grew steadily throughout the following decades. [IV] Universities eventually took notice, and some began actively encouraging applicants to consider taking a year out before enrolling.

Supporters of gap years argue that a well-planned year away from formal study can build independence, cultural awareness and practical skills that a classroom cannot easily provide. It is this sense of independence that many supporters value most. Employers, too, have increasingly come to view a thoughtfully spent gap year as evidence of maturity and initiative rather than as a wasted year. Critics, however, point out that not every gap year is equally valuable. A year spent volunteering meaningfully is very different from a year spent simply working to save money or travelling without any clear purpose, and the two should not automatically be judged in the same way.

Today, gap years have become a global phenomenon, no longer limited to wealthy students from a handful of countries. Universities in many parts of the world have been offering formal deferred-entry schemes for years, and a whole industry of gap-year consultants and programme providers has emerged to guide students through their options. What began as a quiet, unplanned adventure for a small group of British teenagers has grown into a recognised, and sometimes carefully engineered, rite of passage for millions of young people.

Nowadays, taking a year off between finishing school and starting university, commonly known as a gap year, is a familiar idea to many students around the world. Yet this practice has a longer and more surprising history than most people realise. The idea seemed unusual to most families at the time. In the 1960s, a small number of young Britons began travelling overland to India and Southeast Asia in the months before university began, partly out of curiosity and partly to delay the responsibilities of adult life. What started as an informal habit among a handful of adventurous students gradually developed into an established tradition.

[I] By the 1970s, several charities in the United Kingdom had begun organising structured gap-year placements, sending young volunteers abroad to teach or work on community projects. [II] These early programmes were often poorly funded and loosely supervised, and volunteers sometimes found themselves in unfamiliar, even risky, situations with little support. [III] Even so, word of these life-changing experiences spread quickly among school leavers, and demand for organised placements grew steadily throughout the following decades. [IV] Universities eventually took notice, and some began actively encouraging applicants to consider taking a year out before enrolling.

Supporters of gap years argue that a well-planned year away from formal study can build independence, cultural awareness and practical skills that a classroom cannot easily provide. It is this sense of independence that many supporters value most. Employers, too, have increasingly come to view a thoughtfully spent gap year as evidence of maturity and initiative rather than as a wasted year. Critics, however, point out that not every gap year is equally valuable. A year spent volunteering meaningfully is very different from a year spent simply working to save money or travelling without any clear purpose, and the two should not automatically be judged in the same way.

Today, gap years have become a global phenomenon, no longer limited to wealthy students from a handful of countries. Universities in many parts of the world have been offering formal deferred-entry schemes for years, and a whole industry of gap-year consultants and programme providers has emerged to guide students through their options. What began as a quiet, unplanned adventure for a small group of British teenagers has grown into a recognised, and sometimes carefully engineered, rite of passage for millions of young people.

Nowadays, taking a year off between finishing school and starting university, commonly known as a gap year, is a familiar idea to many students around the world. Yet this practice has a longer and more surprising history than most people realise. The idea seemed unusual to most families at the time. In the 1960s, a small number of young Britons began travelling overland to India and Southeast Asia in the months before university began, partly out of curiosity and partly to delay the responsibilities of adult life. What started as an informal habit among a handful of adventurous students gradually developed into an established tradition.

[I] By the 1970s, several charities in the United Kingdom had begun organising structured gap-year placements, sending young volunteers abroad to teach or work on community projects. [II] These early programmes were often poorly funded and loosely supervised, and volunteers sometimes found themselves in unfamiliar, even risky, situations with little support. [III] Even so, word of these life-changing experiences spread quickly among school leavers, and demand for organised placements grew steadily throughout the following decades. [IV] Universities eventually took notice, and some began actively encouraging applicants to consider taking a year out before enrolling.

Supporters of gap years argue that a well-planned year away from formal study can build independence, cultural awareness and practical skills that a classroom cannot easily provide. It is this sense of independence that many supporters value most. Employers, too, have increasingly come to view a thoughtfully spent gap year as evidence of maturity and initiative rather than as a wasted year. Critics, however, point out that not every gap year is equally valuable. A year spent volunteering meaningfully is very different from a year spent simply working to save money or travelling without any clear purpose, and the two should not automatically be judged in the same way.

Today, gap years have become a global phenomenon, no longer limited to wealthy students from a handful of countries. Universities in many parts of the world have been offering formal deferred-entry schemes for years, and a whole industry of gap-year consultants and programme providers has emerged to guide students through their options. What began as a quiet, unplanned adventure for a small group of British teenagers has grown into a recognised, and sometimes carefully engineered, rite of passage for millions of young people.

Nowadays, taking a year off between finishing school and starting university, commonly known as a gap year, is a familiar idea to many students around the world. Yet this practice has a longer and more surprising history than most people realise. The idea seemed unusual to most families at the time. In the 1960s, a small number of young Britons began travelling overland to India and Southeast Asia in the months before university began, partly out of curiosity and partly to delay the responsibilities of adult life. What started as an informal habit among a handful of adventurous students gradually developed into an established tradition.

[I] By the 1970s, several charities in the United Kingdom had begun organising structured gap-year placements, sending young volunteers abroad to teach or work on community projects. [II] These early programmes were often poorly funded and loosely supervised, and volunteers sometimes found themselves in unfamiliar, even risky, situations with little support. [III] Even so, word of these life-changing experiences spread quickly among school leavers, and demand for organised placements grew steadily throughout the following decades. [IV] Universities eventually took notice, and some began actively encouraging applicants to consider taking a year out before enrolling.

Supporters of gap years argue that a well-planned year away from formal study can build independence, cultural awareness and practical skills that a classroom cannot easily provide. It is this sense of independence that many supporters value most. Employers, too, have increasingly come to view a thoughtfully spent gap year as evidence of maturity and initiative rather than as a wasted year. Critics, however, point out that not every gap year is equally valuable. A year spent volunteering meaningfully is very different from a year spent simply working to save money or travelling without any clear purpose, and the two should not automatically be judged in the same way.

Today, gap years have become a global phenomenon, no longer limited to wealthy students from a handful of countries. Universities in many parts of the world have been offering formal deferred-entry schemes for years, and a whole industry of gap-year consultants and programme providers has emerged to guide students through their options. What began as a quiet, unplanned adventure for a small group of British teenagers has grown into a recognised, and sometimes carefully engineered, rite of passage for millions of young people.

Nowadays, taking a year off between finishing school and starting university, commonly known as a gap year, is a familiar idea to many students around the world. Yet this practice has a longer and more surprising history than most people realise. The idea seemed unusual to most families at the time. In the 1960s, a small number of young Britons began travelling overland to India and Southeast Asia in the months before university began, partly out of curiosity and partly to delay the responsibilities of adult life. What started as an informal habit among a handful of adventurous students gradually developed into an established tradition.

[I] By the 1970s, several charities in the United Kingdom had begun organising structured gap-year placements, sending young volunteers abroad to teach or work on community projects. [II] These early programmes were often poorly funded and loosely supervised, and volunteers sometimes found themselves in unfamiliar, even risky, situations with little support. [III] Even so, word of these life-changing experiences spread quickly among school leavers, and demand for organised placements grew steadily throughout the following decades. [IV] Universities eventually took notice, and some began actively encouraging applicants to consider taking a year out before enrolling.

Supporters of gap years argue that a well-planned year away from formal study can build independence, cultural awareness and practical skills that a classroom cannot easily provide. It is this sense of independence that many supporters value most. Employers, too, have increasingly come to view a thoughtfully spent gap year as evidence of maturity and initiative rather than as a wasted year. Critics, however, point out that not every gap year is equally valuable. A year spent volunteering meaningfully is very different from a year spent simply working to save money or travelling without any clear purpose, and the two should not automatically be judged in the same way.

Today, gap years have become a global phenomenon, no longer limited to wealthy students from a handful of countries. Universities in many parts of the world have been offering formal deferred-entry schemes for years, and a whole industry of gap-year consultants and programme providers has emerged to guide students through their options. What began as a quiet, unplanned adventure for a small group of British teenagers has grown into a recognised, and sometimes carefully engineered, rite of passage for millions of young people.

Nowadays, taking a year off between finishing school and starting university, commonly known as a gap year, is a familiar idea to many students around the world. Yet this practice has a longer and more surprising history than most people realise. The idea seemed unusual to most families at the time. In the 1960s, a small number of young Britons began travelling overland to India and Southeast Asia in the months before university began, partly out of curiosity and partly to delay the responsibilities of adult life. What started as an informal habit among a handful of adventurous students gradually developed into an established tradition.

[I] By the 1970s, several charities in the United Kingdom had begun organising structured gap-year placements, sending young volunteers abroad to teach or work on community projects. [II] These early programmes were often poorly funded and loosely supervised, and volunteers sometimes found themselves in unfamiliar, even risky, situations with little support. [III] Even so, word of these life-changing experiences spread quickly among school leavers, and demand for organised placements grew steadily throughout the following decades. [IV] Universities eventually took notice, and some began actively encouraging applicants to consider taking a year out before enrolling.

Supporters of gap years argue that a well-planned year away from formal study can build independence, cultural awareness and practical skills that a classroom cannot easily provide. It is this sense of independence that many supporters value most. Employers, too, have increasingly come to view a thoughtfully spent gap year as evidence of maturity and initiative rather than as a wasted year. Critics, however, point out that not every gap year is equally valuable. A year spent volunteering meaningfully is very different from a year spent simply working to save money or travelling without any clear purpose, and the two should not automatically be judged in the same way.

Today, gap years have become a global phenomenon, no longer limited to wealthy students from a handful of countries. Universities in many parts of the world have been offering formal deferred-entry schemes for years, and a whole industry of gap-year consultants and programme providers has emerged to guide students through their options. What began as a quiet, unplanned adventure for a small group of British teenagers has grown into a recognised, and sometimes carefully engineered, rite of passage for millions of young people.

Nowadays, taking a year off between finishing school and starting university, commonly known as a gap year, is a familiar idea to many students around the world. Yet this practice has a longer and more surprising history than most people realise. The idea seemed unusual to most families at the time. In the 1960s, a small number of young Britons began travelling overland to India and Southeast Asia in the months before university began, partly out of curiosity and partly to delay the responsibilities of adult life. What started as an informal habit among a handful of adventurous students gradually developed into an established tradition.

[I] By the 1970s, several charities in the United Kingdom had begun organising structured gap-year placements, sending young volunteers abroad to teach or work on community projects. [II] These early programmes were often poorly funded and loosely supervised, and volunteers sometimes found themselves in unfamiliar, even risky, situations with little support. [III] Even so, word of these life-changing experiences spread quickly among school leavers, and demand for organised placements grew steadily throughout the following decades. [IV] Universities eventually took notice, and some began actively encouraging applicants to consider taking a year out before enrolling.

Supporters of gap years argue that a well-planned year away from formal study can build independence, cultural awareness and practical skills that a classroom cannot easily provide. It is this sense of independence that many supporters value most. Employers, too, have increasingly come to view a thoughtfully spent gap year as evidence of maturity and initiative rather than as a wasted year. Critics, however, point out that not every gap year is equally valuable. A year spent volunteering meaningfully is very different from a year spent simply working to save money or travelling without any clear purpose, and the two should not automatically be judged in the same way.

Today, gap years have become a global phenomenon, no longer limited to wealthy students from a handful of countries. Universities in many parts of the world have been offering formal deferred-entry schemes for years, and a whole industry of gap-year consultants and programme providers has emerged to guide students through their options. What began as a quiet, unplanned adventure for a small group of British teenagers has grown into a recognised, and sometimes carefully engineered, rite of passage for millions of young people.