As a psychology major, I’ve been fed a fair number of theories about how a person develops. There is, of course, Sigmund Freud, the Austrian psychoanalyst whose “stages of psychosexual development” continue to influence psychology as well as disturb unsuspecting college students. As an veteran psych 101 student, I can tell you: learning that Freud believed 6 year olds, well into the throes of their phallic stage, have “gratification focused on and around the genitals” (Cherry) was a bit of an unpleasant shock. Watson, Pavlov, Skinner, and their behavioral theories of child development were almost as disconcerting as Freud’s- the idea that my moral convictions were traceable to being rewarded for “good” behavior as a child didn’t exactly do wonders for my self esteem. However, through the dark hours I spent pouring over my Psychology book, alternately being horrified at how these psychologist could have come up with these ideas and worrying that the answer to the caterpillar’s “Who are you” (Carroll, 47) was that I was a pathetic product of punishment and reward, there were a few bright lights of insight that I could comfortably believe in, namely those of Erik Erikson and Jean Piaget. Erikson, whose stages of development all revolve around overcoming conflict. A central element of his theories on development is the ego identity, which Erikson says evolves “through social interaction” and is “constantly changing due to new experience and information we acquire in our daily interactions with others” (Cherry). Piaget, on the other hand, focused his analysis of self-development on cognitive processes, deciding that “early cognitive development involves processes based upon actions and later progresses into changes in mental operations" (Cherry).
Why would these last two theories appeal to me more then the first couple? Other than the obvious reasons- for example, the absence of unsettling childhood sexual awakenings-, the conjectures made by Piaget and Erikson were attractive to me because I could easily relate them to my own personal growth, and because they fit with ideas I’d already been harboring on personal development.
I will go ahead and grudgingly admit that I could relate to Erikson’s theories because of something my mother repeated to me my entire childhood that is, though it’s like pulling teeth to admit it, completely true. “Friends rub off on you, Lauren” she used to say, from the stove before I left for elementary school, her face severe and a greasy, scalding hot spatula held up threateningly in her right hand. “Not just the good- the bad too,” she’d warn while I rolled my 13 year old eyes and scurried outside to catch a ride with my friends to the 8th grade dance. “That’s why you have to surround yourself with good people,” she’d call from the front door, hair sleep tousled and slippers on askew, wanting to get in one last word of advice as I slammed my car door shut and zoomed off to my 6:30 AM high school track practice.
A representation of my mother and I.
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And she was right. Totally, completely and irrefutably spot on, something I couldn’t fathom but a fact that Erikson, with his theory that our daily interactions with others greatly affect our personal development, would have known in a heartbeat. I think the realization of her accuracy in this claim was gradual, but just last week, over spring break, perhaps because I’m out of the house and ready to admit that mothers can, occasionally, make wise assertions, the truth of this idea came fully to light. I spent this break in New York, living the life of a friend who moved to Austin from New Jersey for the last year of high school and is now attending her NYU. Amie is quite a character, and I love her dearly, but she has this habit of taking pictures at random intervals throughout inconsequential meetings. These are not the posed, picturesque photographs of most spring break vacations. These are candid, artistic shots that sometimes end up beautiful and most of the time catch you while your mouth is wide open and your eyes are mid-blink (see below). Anyhow, I’m not a fan of having my photo taken, but since it’s only Amie taking the pictures, I can usually dodge the camera when I’m with her in a big group, which is why when she suggested on Friday afternoon that we go meet our New Jersey friends for dinner, I jumped at the chance for Amie to have a larger number of subjects to fill her digital lens. Not such luck. Guess where Amie got her picture-taking obsession? That’s right. I spent an entire evening unsuccessfully dodging not one trigger-happy photographer but four. By the end of the night, I’m pretty sure there were 500 photos of me, 498 of them too hideous to see daylight and the last two only alright because they were pictures of the back of my head.
Exhibit A of Amie's photography skills.
(photo from author)
Obviously, picture taking isn’t quite what my mother was referring to. I’m pretty sure she thinking of things more along the lines of good manners and risqué behavior. However, this story illustrates how dramatically we are influenced by the people we socialize with, as well as the staying-power of this influence. I mean, Amie moved across the United States, and though I think that my reluctance to be the subject of her photos slowed her down a bit, she continued on this tradition even after spending a year away from the friends who taught it to her.
So we have self development tip #1, inspired by my mother, Amie, and Erik Erikson: Surround yourself with people who you exemplify the traits that you value.
Piaget’s theory on development, with its emphasis on mental processes, immediately brought school to my mind. It makes sense, actually, since the studies he used to come to this conclusion were a series of tests administered to school age children. It makes sense, except for I wasn’t thinking about algebra, or biology, or AP English 4. I was, instead, thinking of the best teacher and most prominent role model I’ve ever had: Mr. B.
There’s an episode of the Fresh Prince of Bel Air where Will signs up for a difficult class in an attempt to woo a girl. He drops the class but, in typical comedic style, realizes as soon as he is excused from the class that it could actually be a life-changing experience. After Will explains his predicament to his Uncle Phil, his uncle explains that he believes that “everyone in college has one teacher that gives them an insight, a glimpse into who they really are.” Will is uncomfortable with his Uncles obvious disapproval and tries to justify his decision, saying that it was only one class. Uncle Phill disagrees, saying that “[it is] not once class... [it is his] life.”
For me, Mr. B was that teacher. If you ever get to North Austin, make a stop at the prison-like high school in North Austin called Westwood. Step inside, and ask any student about Mr. B. Maybe, after the 80 pound freshman you ask gives a 20 minute rant about how angry she is she'll never be in his history class (Mr. B is at Harvard now), or after the sleepy-eyed senior assures you Mr. B's amazing day- before-the-midterm lecture was the only reason he passed junior year, you'll understand how incredible he was.
If not, you can always ask me.
I went into sophomore year positive that it would be better then freshman year. I was thoroughly unflinching, doggedly determined, and, I soon realized, utterly unprepared. So, when I walked into what was rumored to be the hardest class offered at Westwood, A.P. U.S. History, despite the fact that I had a teacher known to be one of the best in the school, I was not exactly feeling what could be described as confident. Actually, the word terrified comes to mind…
But, as I said before: I was determined to make that year a good one. So, I sat in the corner desk, reading the various obscenities gratified on it by past students and trying to keep my shaking hands hidden beneath it. Two minutes later, the bell rang. A tall man in his early 30's walked into the room.
Life screeched to a halt and swerved in different direction.
Mr. B gave a quizzical look around the class, then said matter-of-factly "You are on the boat, and it's leaving the harbor. Welcome to APUSH."
My, how incredibly NOT comforting that statement was. I wondered, in a resigned sort of way, if it was too late to abandon ship and swim back to land. Meanwhile, the boat ignored my thoughts and chugged steadily into open water.
Before I continue, let me explain something to you. I was not a slacker. I didn't procrastinate (usually). I didn't cut corners. I didn't siphon my work off on other people. I did what I had to do.
I was however, a minimalist.
I just didn't care enough to put in extra effort. It was all the same, same, same. Math, English, history, science. Who cared? I was just serving my time before I could get out of school and start my real life, which would probably be about as happy as my parents lives. I mean, they were reasonably happy but, let's face: They hadn't felt passion since they saw Grease on the big screen.
So Mr. B's class? It was a surprise. He wanted things like participation, and deep thought, and original analysis. I remember thinking isn't talking his job? Isn't he just supposed to give us the info we need to pass our AP exam and then send us on our merry way?
I started out just struggling to do the work, to pass the tests, to turn in my assignments on time. And then…I sort of lost myself in it. Because it was interesting. Because I was interested. Because I wanted to know more. Because it was impossible to be in Mr. B's class, and listen to his lectures, and watch him dance across the front of the room writing random words on the chalkboard, and not feel inspired. My action focus on the workload of the class transformed into passion, just as Piaget said it should.
And it wasn’t just Mr. B’s class that roused my spirits. It was his whole story. He was a former Kohl’s catalogue model turned investor who made it big. He drove the fanciest car in the faculty parking lot. It was rumored that he could have retired on the money he made. Instead, he decided to teach. And you could just tell, you know? You could tell that he really wanted to be there, that he wanted to share his love for history with the rest of the world.
People seem to have this mind-frame nowadays that passion for what you're involved in is optional. Guess what? It’s not. As Mr. B demonstrated every day in his class, passion is 150% necessary. And after that year in APUSH, I have it. Never again will I let life carry me where it may. Never again will I let someone else decide what I should be doing. Never again will I live my life according to someone else's idea of what is right.
And there is self development tip #2: Be passionate.
I’m sitting here, a freshman psychology major in college, trying to hold tight to the example that Mr. B set. And I have to admit, it’s not all rainbows and butterflies in my academic world right now. I know what I want to do with this degree. I wrote an entire essay on how I’m going to take what psychology teaches me to help those with eating disorders. But there’s this disjunction between the classes I’m taking and my ultimate goals. In my seventh grade math class, there was a poster on the wall entitled “When Am I Ever Going to Use This” which listed all the different things we learned in the class and situations in which this knowledge would come in handy. I think that, to make it through classes like statistics and physics, I’m going to have to make (if not a physical at least a mental) poster similar to this. And it’s not just going to include the educational aspect of the classes. Sometimes, the most important things you learn in school have nothing to do with school at all. Yeah, kindergarten is where you learn to read. But you also learn how to share, be away from home, and try new things. Classes at UT are the same: they have more to off then just what the tests cover.
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To be honest, the DB’s we do in this class have helped a lot in making me aware of how I can use the wholistic education that UT is in effect forcing me to take in situations I hadn’t realized it would be useful. I mean, I would NEVER have thought it possible to relate Stargirl, one of my favorite books of all time and probably one of the most childish I still reread, to Siddhartha, a classic and controversial text. But there it is, in writing, a clear connection between the two. And as I notice myself getting into the habit of making these sorts of unlikely connections more and more, I feel more confident that, however painful certain classes might be for me now, I’m not working my butt off in them just so UT will graduate me and I can get on with my life. They will help me, somehow, someway, when I’m a psychologist working to bring people back to optimum happiness.
But I’m not just taking what the university has to offer, academic and otherwise, in a willy-nilly manner. There are specific things I’m trying to develop within myself during my time here at UT, as well as specific goals I want to accomplish once I leave the university. Firstly, I’d like to see through others eyes more easily. I’ve never had an eating disorder, just watched others suffer from them, so I know this is going to be very important if I want to help my patients. I want to stop hesitating when people ask me for help because I’m afraid I won’t have enough time to both help them and get my work done. It’s not about time management, in this case. What I need to learn is how to more readily make time for others. As a psychologist, I think it’s going to be important for me to be there for my patients whenever they need me, not only when it is convenient for me. Lastly, I think it’s important for me to learn how to be more open and honest about my own problems with other people. How can I expect others to confide and me when I can’t do the same? My mom believes that everyone should see a therapist, regardless of whether they think they need it or not. I kind of agree, and I’m thinking that I need to make sure everything’s OK in my noodle before I go messing around with the heads of my patients. Outside of my character oriented goals, I obviously need to graduate. Then I need to go to graduate school, so I can specialize in eating disorders and actually practice the clinical psychology I’m aiming for. Then I need to find an appropriate rehab to work at. And if I want to really make the greatest number of people happy possible, if I’m sticking to the goal I set in P3, I need to write a story, one that will touch, comfort, and inspire others as the works of fiction sitting on my shelf have done to me.
Now… how to go about these stretch and manageable goals? A central part of seeing the world through others eyes is being exposed to the viewpoints of others. Just by being at this diverse university, I’m starting to do this more easily because I’m encountering people and ideas I might never have been exposed to otherwise. However, these are still all college students, and many of the people in my classes and dorm are honors students. To be exposed to an even wider array of people, I need to join more extracurricular activities affiliated with UT. I’m already in a sorority. I think that next year I want to join one more organization on campus. However, I also think it’s important to meet people who are not college students, or even of college age. I’m work at El Buen Samaritano with children of immigrants once a week, so this is helping me branch out from the college scene and understand the viewpoints of younger, non-college students. I’d also like to work with people at the other end of the spectrum. There is a nursing home by my house, and over the summer I’m going to try to volunteer there as well. In addition, this class has taught me the importance of empathizing not only with humans but also with non-humans. I think that the idea of meditating to connect with nature will help me in this aspect, for now. But I’d also like to take this a step further, maybe doing short writing exercises after meditating so I can record my progress in empathizing with animals and plants, not just passively meditating. To learn to make time for others more easily, I think I need to ignore any selfish hesitation I might have when asked for help and just say yes. I feel like once I realize how much time I really do have, I’ll be less nervous about taking time our of my schedule for others, and the simple act of saying a hesitant yes can evolve, by the end of my four years here at UT, into an emphatic affirmation that I’m never to busy to help others. In the character development category of my goals, being more open and honest about my own problems is probably going to be the hardest. I think that my reluctance to talk to others about my problems stems from trying to spare them the burden that comes with this knowledge. However, there’s a difference between being honest about problems and forcing others to carry your burden. I’m going to begin developing this trait of honesty about myself by answering the question “How are you,” when it’s asked by close friends, in a less vague manner. Instead of saying that I’m fine, I’ll add why it is that my life isn’t going superbly at the moment. Then I’ll try doing the same with people I’m not as close with. After I get comfortable with this, hopefully by my junior year, I’ll try my mom’s therapist idea. I’m a little bit uncomfortable with the idea of baring my soul to a stranger, but I’ll be asking others to do it once I become a psychologist, so it’s important I be willing to do the same. And throughout this all, I need to keep in mind my self development tips, being careful to surround myself with open, empathetic, unconditionally helpful people and working hard to keep my passion for developing these characteristics at a maximum level.
As for my stretch goals of becoming a psychologist and publishing a life-changing work of fiction, I’ll have to focus on my more manageable goals first. I need to graduate from this school. I already talked about tools I’ll be using to get through the less interesting parts of my classes, and these are tools I’m hoping I won’t have to use in grad school but am prepared to use if necessary. I’d like to graduate in four years and attend graduate school at a university known for its work on eating disorders. This is something I’ll have to research most likely, so I think I’d like to do that this summer and come up with list of schools I’m interested in, checking up on them every six months to see what new work as come from them or other universities. I’m guessing grad school will take me another 4 years, during which I think it’s important I be interning at rehabs I’d like to work at once I’m finished with school. Once I get a job, I want to treat each patient as a goal in itself. I don’t want my job as a psychologist to just be “helping as many people as possible.” I know that each patient will have a different set of issues to work out, and I want to treat them accordingly. Simultaneously with these stretch and manageable goals, I’d like to be working on the stretch goal of publishing something. I’m taking a class on fairy tales this semester, and it’s made me realize how much these seemingly cheesy and old-fashioned stories have to teach us. I’m not doing an internship or anything this summer, so I’ve decided to spend it writing a modern day fairy-tale. I’m won’t sit here and tell you it’s going to be the next Jane Eyre, or anything, but I’m hoping that I can convey within it something true and heartfelt. If I like the way it turns out, I want to have it ready to send out to publishers by Christmas. This is obviously a stretch goal comparable to Elastigirl from The Incredibles, but there’s so much truth in fiction, and I have so much I want to say, that it doesn’t feel as ridiculous as it sounds when I write it out on paper.
And now, how am I going to close this essay- no, this plan I’ve created for my life? It’s really not appropriate to close it at all. This essay isn’t an end: it’s a beginning, and should end not with the shutting of a curtain, or the presentment of a rose, or the rolling of credits, but with the popping of a starting gun.
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So here it goes: 6 years of track have taught me what this sound means.
BANG.
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