As everyone else on the bus was disembarking to shop in that congested, upper class mall filled with swarms of shoppers, some with screaming children begging their parents to buy them that perfect Christmas gift, some buying the latest new toys and cards for their distant relatives out of state, I suddenly began to reflect on the experiences and memories that I left behind at the other end of this strange odyssey across Cincinnati that I was making in increasingly bitter winter weather.
When I was six months old, my mother became concerned that I had a lack of vision because I would often look directly at the sun. I was diagnosed with optic nerve atrophy in my right eye and astigmatism in my left. My father had served in Vietnam, and I believe that my visual impairment may be related to his exposure to Agent Orange.
For sometime, doctors told my parents that I would have no usable vision, but my parents refused to believe them. For the first several years of my life, I grew up like a normal, healthy child.
I learned to walk while holding on to a table at nine months and by twenty months, I could walk alone. I understood language at ten months and could count by three. My parents were caring, loving people who totally supported my development despite what the doctors were telling them. My father worked in the quality control division at 3M in Cincinnati, and my mother was working various jobs. I remember playing with beer cans and anything else that made noise until my parents could not take it anymore.
In , I began attending summer camp at Stepping Stones , a special camp for disabled children in Cincinnati. My memories of Stepping Stones primarily revolved around swimming in the pool, being on TV, and exercising on mats and trampolines. I went to Stepping Stones for two more summers. Since I showed problems with my muscle tone and coordination, I began some occupational therapy activities at Stepping Stones.
From what I remember, they consisted of exposure to tactual stimuli of different textures. My hand coordination problems would plague me for ten more years until I began high school, however. I attended preschool at a special school for the disabled. I was a shy, defensive child who refused to learn Braille. I would scream, cry, and physically resist many activities, but I did learn the alphabet visually and I learned to read print when I was in the first grade.
Elementary school was a difficult time for me and my family. In , the plant where my father worked shut down, and the restaurant where my mother worked went out of business. For three months, both of my parents were unemployed. Then, my mother found work at a newly open K mart six miles from the apartment in which we lived.
My father would stay out of work until finding a job on the night crew at that same K mart ten years later. Meanwhile, I remember being socially active and doing well in school one month, and crying, defensive, and withdrawn the next. I began occupational therapy when I was a first grader to improve my muscular coordination.
This therapy consisted of one-on-one play activities with a physical and occupational therapist hired by the public school district which I attended, a middle-aged lady I called Mrs. I loved to ride on the bolster swing, a short swing used by physical and occupational therapists to improve gross motor coordination, but I stubbornly resisted fine motor skills training which would later be critical in learning many basic daily living skills.
I was also beginning orientation and mobility skills training at my school. This type of training involves teaching a blind person how to navigate in a number of environments using cues and cognitive processes that do not require vision. Until I was in junior high, my social skills were sporadic.
I was considered a math wizard and could do problems that required long multiplication in my head, but many activities that didn't require numbers would cause me to regress to a fit of crying.
Admittedly, memories of this time in my life still leave me with feelings of guilt and shame for what I feel I put my parents and teachers through and a sense of incredulity that I actually exhibited these behaviors as late as the fall of Throughout it all, however, I had the support of my parents, some friends at school, and a few of the most memorable teachers in my life.
There was my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Ham, who inspired me to do many great things in her class. I believe it was in her class that I began developing my writing skills, skills crucial in social work practice.
I was very active in her class, and I remember doing my first major research project at the end of that year, a report on corn that turned out to be one of the best fourth grade reports Mrs.
Perhaps the only meritorious thing about me is that I am a good student. I am no more intelligent than anyone else my age, do not memorize answers for tests by osmosis, and find it difficult to follow Mr. I am a ravenous learner, a voracious reader, will rapaciously devour any piece of literature that crosses my path. Classics, textbooks, poetry, script—it does not matter to me, as long as it is full of words.
For this reason, I view education not as a chore but as an opportunity. I cannot fathom life without daily learning, cannot comprehend what my existence would be if there was not a book to be found. Usually, I get along effortlessly and excellently with my teachers, might discuss Andy Warhol with Mr. Richardson or hand a poem to Mrs. I almost always get along the best with my English teachers, perhaps because we share a common passion, because we are both nerds and proud of it. Elections are no more than high-falutin popularity contests; I learned that in second grade, when a friend and I tried to convince our peers that we should be Class Ambassadors—we even made posters addressing the issues; longer recess, better lunch food and more snack time we were ambitious eight-year-olds.
A kid named Cody, however, won when he brought cookies for the class on Voting Day. I sound contradictory here, though. Despite this, I did not really care who won, Obama or ancient McCain, because I figured that America was going to fall into a recession either way.
Being respectful to adults, for example, is one of the biggest I follow—especially towards parents and teachers. I am deeply disappointed in myself with the realization that I have no real standard of ethics, perhaps a warped sense of right and wrong as a result. I need to figure out who I am, what I stand for, and follow through with those principles. Sometimes, I look in the mirror and cringe when I think about how much I have changed. Other times, I smile. That which I have done in these past months, however, has caused that smile to fade; lately, it has vanished behind a frown.
How that may be not-so-good: I quit fighting against my mother so much, finally broke down and changed the way I dressed, how I wore my make-up. I became increasingly introverted, telling no one anything, confiding in my mother less and less, until that confidence disappeared completely. Why that is bad: I would prefer not to go there. How I need to change: How I plan to change: However, what I do know is that I am a hypocrite. I expect the truth from others, though I rarely give it in return.
I value kindness but am only cruel. In a second condition, a confederate stepped up to the urinal next to the subject. Results indicated that onset of urination and amount were both affected by having a person at the next urinal.
This was important in that it showed how physical changes in our bodies occur simply by being near someone. In the study by Seligman and Maier, learned helplessness was studied in dogs. Dogs were placed in a shuttle box. This is essentially a two-sided cage with a low dividing wall in the middle. The floors of the two sides are also wired so that an electrical shock may be administered to either side. For one group of dogs, a light was turned on to signal an impending shock.
These dogs quickly learned to jump over at the presentation of the light and were only shocked one or two times. For another group of dogs, the light was turned on and followed by a shock. The dogs in this group were not allowed to jump to the other side of the box a barrier was placed in the way.
After several pairings of the light and shock, the barrier was removed so that the dogs could easily jump to the other side to escape the shock. Instead of jumping over, most dogs simply stayed put and endured the shock. The dogs were well cared for before and after the experiments. This study demonstrated learned helplessness which allowed psychologists to help people in abusive relationships and other harmful relationships. The researcher in this study wished to determine factors associated with homosexual behavior in public washrooms.
After the sexual activity took place, he recorded the automobile license numbers of the men and obtained their addresses through the Department of Public Safety. Disguised so that the men would not recognize him, he went to their houses and claimed to be a health service interviewer. This allowed Humphreys to collect data pertaining to their marital status many were married , jobs, and health-related issues.
It was a very important study that showed the lives, attitudes, and mental health of homosexual men and heterosexual men were not significantly different and supported the removal of homosexuality from the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual in It is important to keep in mind that at this time homosexuality was illegal, so it was very difficult to interview people who engaged in these acts.
I was born Shannon Patrick. My middle name depended on whether my mother was sober or not, but since she was never sober, it was mostly Cathalina. She looks like me, my mother does, and loves.
Introspective Paper Growing up in Brooklyn, NY most believe that you are born at a disadvantage, I believe I am blessed. The people in the community aren’t really on your side and, to people outside of my community give us and label/5(1).
Introspective Papers. Introspection papers: The purpose of the introspection assignments is to integrate the information from the PowerPoint lecture with the information from the book and apply them to your own life or beliefs. Assigned Paper c) A Trip of Discovery. It was a cold, dreary day in the middle of December, and a city bus, which a half hour ago had been filled to capacity with passengers of all walks of life, had now already dropped most of its remaining passengers at a crowded shopping mall in a .
Introspective Paper Introspective Paper Introduction to Psychology Introduction to Psychology Hannah Lowe. This preview has intentionally blurred sections. Sign up to view the full version. View Full Document. Introduction to Self: My name is Hannah Lowe and when prompted, I typically say. Introspection Term paper. While the free essays can give you inspiration for writing, they cannot be used 'as is' because they will not meet your assignment's requirements. If you are in a time crunch, then you need a custom written term paper on your subject (introspection).