TOEFL Listening Mock Test 9

NARRATOR: Listen to a conversation between a student and a professor. STUDENT: Hi, Professor Ingrid. Do you have a few minutes? I wanted to ask you about the draft for my history paper. PROFESSOR: Hello, Tomas. Yes, come on in. I have some time before my next class. Let me look at your draft. Ah, yes, your topic is agricultural history, right? STUDENT: Yes. I am writing about the medieval three-field crop rotation system. But, well, my draft is already seven pages long. The syllabus says the maximum limit is five pages. I am not sure what to cut. PROFESSOR: I see. Let me look at your outline here. It looks like you have a large section comparing Europe to ancient China. Is that correct? STUDENT: Yes, I wanted to compare the two systems to show how different cultures solved soil nutrients problems. PROFESSOR: That is an interesting idea, but for a five-page paper, it is simply too broad. You see, when you try to cover two large regions, you cannot write with enough detail. It is much better to focus deeply on just one topic. STUDENT: Oh, I see. So, if I focus only on the three-field system in medieval Europe, I can explain the details of how the fields were rotated every year. PROFESSOR: Exactly. Explain the three phases: the autumn planting, the spring planting, and the fallow period, where the land rests. If you explain those three parts clearly, you will easily fill four or five pages. STUDENT: That makes sense. It will also make the writing process much easier for me. I was really struggling to fit everything in. PROFESSOR: Yes, a narrow focus is always better for these short assignments. Remember, the final paper is due this Friday by five o'clock in the afternoon. You must submit it online through the student portal. STUDENT: Great, I will edit it today and turn it in before the deadline. Thank you for your help, Professor! PROFESSOR: You are welcome, Tomas. Good luck with the editing! [Q1] Why does the student go to see the professor?

(Shared with Q1.) [Q2] According to the professor, what is the main problem with the student's current draft?

(Shared with Q1.) [Q3] What is one requirement for the final paper mentioned by the professor?

(Shared with Q1.) [Q4] What can be inferred about the student's original plan for the essay?

(Shared with Q1.) [Replay: "That is an interesting idea, but for a five-page paper, it is simply too broad."] [Q5] Why does the professor say this: "That is an interesting idea, but for a five-page paper, it is simply too broad."

NARRATOR: Listen to part of a lecture in a biology class. PROFESSOR: Good morning, everyone. Today, we're going to look at a fascinating example of mutualism—that's a biological interaction where two different species both benefit from each other. Specifically, we'll focus on myrmecophytes, or "ant-plants". Now, myrmecophytes are plants that have evolved highly specialized structures to live in a symbiotic relationship with certain ant species. These plants don't just happen to have ants crawling on them; they actually actively recruit and house them for defense. STUDENT: So, the plants actually build homes for the ants? How does that work? PROFESSOR: Exactly, Hina. They do this through structures called domatia. Domatia are hollow chambers inside the plant—often inside modified stems, thorns, or even leaves—that serve as ready-made nesting sites for the ants. The plant essentially provides free real estate. But shelter isn't the only benefit. Myrmecophytes also provide food, primarily through extrafloral nectaries. These are specialized glands located outside of the flowers, like on the leaves or stems, that secrete a sugar-rich liquid. This nectar isn't for pollination; its sole purpose is to feed the resident ants. Some plants even produce tiny, nutrient-rich food bodies on their leaves, packed with lipids and proteins. PROFESSOR: So, what does the plant get in return for this... uh, this generous room and board? Well, defense. The ants act as a highly aggressive private security force. If a caterpillar or a leaf-cutting beetle tries to eat the plant, the ants attack it immediately, biting and stinging the intruder until it leaves. In fact, some ant species will even clear away encroaching vines or competing seedlings that grow too close, preventing the host plant from being shaded out. This vegetation clearing, or weeding behavior, ensures the host plant gets plenty of sunlight. It’s an incredibly effective defense system. STUDENT: That sounds perfect for the plant. But is there a catch? I mean, producing all that nectar and building those chambers must cost the plant a lot of energy. PROFESSOR: That's an excellent point, Hina. Yes, there is a definite trade-off. Allocating energy to grow domatia and produce nectar means the plant has fewer resources for its own growth or seed production. Biologists have found that in environments where herbivores are rare, myrmecophytes actually grow slower than non-ant-plants because they are spending energy on a defense system they don't currently need. The plant has to balance this cost. In fact, some species have evolved the ability to... wait, not all of them, but certain species can actually downregulate, or turn off, their nectar production when the plant isn't being attacked, which helps conserve energy. But overall, in high-pest environments, the benefits of having an active ant army far outweigh the metabolic costs. [Q6] What is the lecture mainly about?

(Shared with Q6.) [Q7] According to the professor, what is the primary function of extrafloral nectaries?

(Shared with Q6.) [Q8] According to the professor, how do resident ants benefit the host plant? Choose 2 answers.

(Shared with Q6.) [Q9] Why does the professor mention environments where herbivores are rare?

(Shared with Q6.) [Q10] According to the professor, how do some myrmecophyte species conserve energy when they are not under attack?

(Shared with Q6.) [Replay: "So, what does the plant get in return for this... uh, this generous room and board?"] [Q11] Why does the speaker say this:

NARRATOR: Listen to a conversation between a student and an academic advisor. ADVISOR: Hi Sofia, how can I help you today? STUDENT: Hi Mr. Davis. Well, I'm having a bit of a problem with my course registration for next semester. I'm trying to add a class—Introduction to Museum Studies—but the system is blocking me. It keeps saying I've reached my maximum credit limit. I really need this class because it's only offered once every two years, and I'm trying to complete an Art History minor along with my Chemistry major. ADVISOR: Ah, yes, the system does that. The university caps registration at 18 credits per semester. We do this to ensure students don't take on too much at once. How many credits are you currently signed up for? STUDENT: Well, I have 16 credits right now, and the Museum Studies class is 3 credits... wait, actually, I'm enrolled in 17 credits because of my chemistry lab, so adding this course would put me at 20 credits. ADVISOR: Yes, 20 credits is indeed over the limit. To exceed 18 credits, you have to submit an Overload Petition Form. It requires a signature from your department chair, and, uh, there's also a forty-five dollar processing fee. STUDENT: Oh, really? I actually heard that the fee is waived for some students. Is that true? ADVISOR: It is, but only for students with a cumulative GPA of 3.8 or higher. Let me pull up your record here... okay, I see you currently have a 3.78. You're incredibly close, but since it's just under the cutoff, you'll need to pay the fee at the bursar's office first. STUDENT: Ah, that's a bummer, but okay, I can pay it. My main worry is the department chair's signature, though. Dr. Vance, the head of Chemistry, is attending a conference in Geneva this week. He won't be back until next Monday, but isn't the petition deadline this Friday? ADVISOR: Yes, the deadline is strict—Friday at 5:00 PM. The registrar's office won't accept late submissions because they have to finalize course rosters. But don't worry, you have a couple of options. Dr. Vance is usually responsive to email, so you could send him the PDF to sign electronically. But even better, during his absence, the assistant chair, Dr. Mendez, has the authority to sign departmental petitions. STUDENT: Oh, that's a relief! I actually have organic chemistry with Dr. Mendez tomorrow morning. I can just print the form and ask her right after class. ADVISOR: Perfect. So here is what you need to do: download the Overload Petition Form from the registrar's website, get Dr. Mendez's signature, take it to the bursar's office to pay the fee—they will stamp the form to prove you paid—and then hand it in to the registrar before Friday's deadline. STUDENT: Great. Thank you so much, Mr. Davis! I'll get on that right away. [Q12] Why does the student go to see her academic advisor?

(Shared with Q12.) [Q13] According to the advisor, why is the student ineligible for a fee waiver?

(Shared with Q12.) [Q14] What can be inferred about the chemistry department head, Dr. Vance?

(Shared with Q12.) [Q15] Why does the advisor mention the registrar's office needing to finalize course rosters?

(Shared with Q12.) [Replay: "Well, I have 16 credits right now, and the Museum Studies class is 3 credits... wait, actually, I'm enrolled in 17 credits because of my chemistry lab, so adding this course would put me at 20 credits."] [Q16] Why does the student say this:

NARRATOR: Listen to part of a lecture in an environmental science class. PROFESSOR: Okay, so today we're going to look at a rather unusual hydrological phenomenon that occurs in cold, fast-flowing rivers. Usually, when we think of a river freezing, we picture a sheet of ice gradually creeping out from the banks, eventually covering the surface. But in turbulent, rapid waters, the process is radically different, and it actually starts from the bottom up. This involves a sequence of ice formations known as frazil ice and anchor ice. PROFESSOR: First, let's talk about the thermodynamic trigger. For this to happen, the water has to undergo supercooling. This typically occurs on clear, windy nights when the river rapidly loses heat to the cold atmosphere through radiative cooling—uh, that's the loss of heat via thermal radiation into space. Now, supercooling refers to the process where a liquid's temperature drops slightly below its nominal freezing point—zero degrees Celsius for freshwater—without actually solidifying. In a calm lake, this might lead to a quick surface crust. But in a turbulent river, the constant churning prevents a solid sheet from forming. Instead, the supercooled water produces millions of microscopic, needle-like crystals. We call these tiny, suspended particles frazil ice. PROFESSOR: Because of their shape and physical properties, these frazil crystals are extremely sticky. They have a thin, active layer of liquid-like water on their surfaces, which makes them highly adhesive when they collide with sub-freezing solid objects. As they tumble through the turbulent current, they adhere to one another, forming slushy clusters. But more importantly, they adhere to the riverbed. When these sticky crystals attach to rocks, gravel, or vegetation at the bottom of the river, they accumulate into a dense, spongy mass called anchor ice. Yes, Tomas? STUDENT: Wait, so the ice actually grows on the riverbed? I thought ice was always less dense than liquid water, so shouldn't it just float to the top? PROFESSOR: That's a very logical question, Tomas. And you're absolutely right about density. Ice is inherently buoyant. However, the adhesive force—the mechanical grip of these sticky frazil crystals onto the cold, rocky substrate—is initially strong enough to overcome that upward buoyant force. It literally anchors the ice to the bottom. But here's where it gets interesting, and where the geomorphic impact comes in. PROFESSOR: As the anchor ice continues to grow, it accumulates more mass, and consequently, its buoyancy increases. Eventually, the upward buoyant force exceeds the adhesive bond holding it to the riverbed. Or, alternatively, the morning sun rises, warms the rocky bottom slightly, and releases the ice's grip. When that happens, the anchor ice detaches and floats to the surface. But it doesn't go up empty-handed. PROFESSOR: Because it was tightly bound to the riverbed, the rising ice sheet lifts whatever it was attached to—pebbles, heavy gravel, and even large rocks. This is a process geologists call ice rafting, which is the transport of riverbed materials by floating ice. In high-latitude rivers, like... well, portions of the Yukon River, this mechanism transports tons of coarse sediment miles downstream every single year, sediments that the normal water current would never be strong enough to move. PROFESSOR: So, what we see is a thermodynamic quirk—supercooling—driving a massive geological transport system. But there's also an ecological side to this. Anchor ice can completely blanket the riverbed, suffocating benthic organisms—that is, the small insects and larvae that live in the sediment. On the other hand, when the ice lifts off, it clears out accumulated fine silt, which actually helps keep the gravel clean for fish spawning in the spring. So, it's a double-edged sword, ecologically speaking. [Q17] What is the lecture mainly about?

(Shared with Q17.) [Q18] According to the professor, what environmental condition is necessary for supercooling to occur in a river?

(Shared with Q17.) [Q19] Why does the professor mention the density of ice?

(Shared with Q17.) [Q20] What is the relationship between anchor ice detachment and sediment transport?

(Shared with Q17.) [Q21] What can be inferred about the ecological impact of anchor ice on a river ecosystem?

(Shared with Q17.) [Replay: "But it doesn't go up empty-handed."] [Q22] Why does the speaker say this:

NARRATOR: Listen to part of a lecture in a linguistics class. PROFESSOR: Good morning, everyone. Yesterday, we discussed Ferdinand de Saussure’s classic assertion that linguistic signs are arbitrary. That is, there’s no logical reason why the word "tree" represents a tall, leafy plant. The connection is purely conventional. But today, we’re diving into the counter-evidence: a field known as sound symbolism, or phonosemantics. This is the idea that vocal sounds themselves can carry intrinsic meaning, mapping directly onto physical properties in the real world. PROFESSOR: Now, you might think of onomatopoeia—words like "buzz" or "hiss" that mimic actual sounds. But sound symbolism goes much deeper. Consider what linguists call phonaesthemes. A phonaestheme is a specific sound sequence that is systematically coupled with a particular meaning, even though it doesn't function as a formal prefix or suffix. In English, a classic—sorry, a particularly vivid example is the "gl-" cluster. Think about words like "glow," "gleam," "glimmer," "glisten," and "glitter." They all share this "gl-" sound, and they all have to do with light or vision. It’s not a coincidence; it's a sub-morphemic pattern that our brains naturally group together. STUDENT: Excuse me, Professor. How is a phonaestheme different from regular onomatopoeia? Don't they both just connect sounds to things? PROFESSOR: That's a fair question, Tomas. Onomatopoeia is purely acoustic imitation. The word "buzz" sounds like the noise a bee makes. But a phonaestheme like "gl-" doesn't sound like light. Light doesn't make a sound! Instead, it’s a cross-modal mapping—our minds link an auditory sensation, the "gl-" sound, with a visual sensation, light. Another example is "sn-" in English: "snout," "snarl," "snort," "sniff," "sneeze." These aren't imitating noises; they are physically anchored to the nose or mouth. PROFESSOR: Now, let's take this a step further. In many languages, sound symbolism is highly grammaticalized through a class of words called ideophones. Ideophones are words that depict sensory imagery—not just sound, but also movement, texture, shape, or even psychological states. In English, we have very few, but in languages like Japanese or Basque, they are incredibly expressive. For instance, in Japanese, "goro-goro" depicts a heavy object rolling, while "pika-pika" represents something sparkling or shining. These aren't just informal slang; they are fully integrated into the vocabulary. PROFESSOR: For a long time, mainstream linguistics dismissed ideophones as exotic quirks. But recent cognitive experiments have challenged this. In one landmark study, researchers presented native English speakers, who had absolutely no knowledge of Japanese, with pairs of Japanese ideophones—say, "kasa-kasa" and "beta-beta"—and asked them to guess which one meant "dry" and which meant "sticky." If language were entirely arbitrary, the participants' accuracy should have been around fifty percent, right? Just random guessing. PROFESSOR: But... well, the results were astonishing. Participants consistently guessed the correct meanings at a rate significantly higher than chance. This suggests that certain phonetic features—like the contrast between soft, continuous consonant sounds and harsh, abrupt ones—have an intuitive, universal resonance. Our brains are naturally wired to associate certain acoustic patterns with specific tactile or visual qualities. So, while Saussure wasn't entirely wrong—after all, we still have to learn that "tree" means tree—the absolute arbitrariness of language is, uh, let's say, a bit of an oversimplification. We have this deep, evolutionary layer of sound-meaning mapping that we are only just beginning to fully investigate. [Q23] What is the lecture mainly about?

(Shared with Q23.) [Q24] According to the professor, what distinguishes phonaesthemes from onomatopoeia?

(Shared with Q23.) [Q25] In the study involving Japanese ideophones, what two outcomes or conditions were observed? Choose 2 answers.

(Shared with Q23.) [Q26] Why does the professor discuss the English consonant cluster 'gl-'?

(Shared with Q23.) [Q27] What does the professor imply about the traditional linguistic view of language arbitrariness?

(Shared with Q23.) [Replay: "But... well, the results were astonishing."] [Q28] Why does the speaker say this: