12-15 pages, doublespaced, coverpage, numbered pages, skillful and articulate integration of the developmental concepts and theories of psychology, try to answer the question “what are the lessons I have learned?
Items that need to be compared to your life:
Eriksons 8 steps of psychosocial theory
Socio economical stats
communication with family
neighborhood where I lived
media effects of life
I would like you to interview me a bit and than write what you want. Something that is interesting yet believable! Everything else doesnt really need to be true!
One of my earliest memories was of my mother, as most people’s memories probably are. It is a memory though, that is unique.
The townhouse was small and simple; the walls were white and plain. My sister was around two years old, I was four. My parents had just finalized the divorce. My father stayed in Texas, we moved back to Saegertown. We had just moved into the small, cramped townhouse and I hated it. I did not know anyone in the area we had moved into and the only kid who was close in age to me was a boy who was a few years older. I do not remember his name, only his bad habits, which included habitually swearing, a practice my mother abhorred. He was a bully; he picked on me and made fun of my single mother and my father not being around. Looking back, he, whose parents were never around to correct him, was probably in a similar situation. As a child though, all I knew was how mean he was towards me.
One afternoon, he was once again swearing in front of my mother. She warned him that if he swore one more time in front of her, that she would wash his mouth out with soap. My mother was still single, and was trying to take classes to finish her degree that she never had finished because of me and my sister. I am sure she was tired with the workload she was under stress from trying to raise my sister and myself and attempt to finish a college degree. I still remember his face before he spit out one last swear word in front of her, the little cocky smirk before his lips formed the words.
With that she snapped. She grabbed the back of his collar and hauled him behind her into the apartment. I followed behind, a grin on my face to see the boy who had taken delight in bullying me with such a perplexed look on his face as he struggled. I wonder if his parent’s had ever corrected his actions. He sputtered as my mom grabbed the bottle of dish detergent. Unluckily for him, she did not have a bar of soap at hand. A few squirts in his mouth and a gulp or two of water later and he was running out of the apartment. He never swore in front of my mother again.
I was born in Lewisville, Texas, a medium sized developing town on the outskirts of Fort Worth. My mother and father were both originally from Cambridge Springs, Pennsylvania and they moved to Texas for his job. I do not remember seeing my father when I was younger, when my parents were married. My mother said I was a quiet as a baby, so much so that she would have to check on me in my crib because I was not crying. My growth was unremarkably normal, I was quiet, but smart. I was not breast fed because my mother found out I was lactose intolerant and had to be on a special soy formula. I do not have any memories of this time, but I know I was loved. According to Erickson’s psychosocial oral stage, I had a large level of trust in my mother and my family.
My mom helped me to be potty trained by throwing cheerios into the toilet and I aimed for them. Therefore she helped me to develop new mental and motor skills and helped me to obtain autonomy.
We were in that same townhouse for several years until I started kindergarten. The townhouse was two levels, there was a small narrow stairwell that went up to the second floor. We had not lived in the townhouse long, my sister was still around two and I was around four. My mother had been in the kitchen cooking dinner, I remember I was hungry and waiting for dinner to be done. The walls of the townhouse were so white, like the paper I had been using to color pictures from the coloring book my mother had given us. Then I got the idea to color on the walls. I remember running up and down the stairs with the crayons making designs on the walls. My sister watched. I had told her it was okay to draw on the walls and since I was so much older, she nodded in agreement. I was her big brother after all. I remember finishing coloring with the crayons and went and played with something else, my little sister still coloring in the color book. My mother came back into the room to get us for dinner and saw my sister with the crayons. Possession, as they say, is nine tenths of the law. I never did fess up that it was not my sister’s interior designing skills that had re-decorated the stairwell.
My mother forced my sister to wash the walls as punishment and I made the choice to help, knowing that it was actually my fault. I felt guilty because my mother corrected my sister for something I had done. I empathized with my sister. I did not understand why I felt guilty, because I had gotten away with it, but it did not produce the desired results of me not feeling guilty. This exemplifies the initiative versus guilt stage. I felt a sense of responsibility for my actions.
When I was in second grade, I would get into a lot of trouble because I was bored with the level of work that I was asked to do. I was placed into a more advanced class where I was asked to write a book based on the alphabet about amphibians to keep me busy while I was doing the other schoolwork.