The query caught me a bit off guard. As much, because my mother didn\u2019t really ask direct questions \u2014 or even ask questions at all. She was more the kind of quiet, worrying type, trusting that things would more or less work out on their own. And, I expect that experience had taught her that her son would have an answer of sorts in any event . . . or would just keep talking until the conversation had wandered sufficiently far from the initial point that we were both now lost in the fog of words.<\/p>\r\n
I had recently returned from an \u2018hiatus\u2019 from my studies. A promising and pretty predictable high school career, with good grades, no disciplinary corrections (that one would note), and, Heaven forfend, any failed subjects, had moved to acceptance at Western. No worries, enrolled in pre-business, with an eclectic collection of English, history, economics, Latin, and psychology as the supporting cast. Securely housed in residence under the watchful eye of a responsible, fourth year med student as house don \u2014 what could go wrong? As it turned out, lots.<\/p>\r\n
Two (and a half) hopeful reboots later, the collective, family decision was made that perhaps a wee break from all this expensive and, as yet, not wholly successful, post- secondary endeavour might be in order.<\/p>\r\n
My close friend (and decidedly more committed scholar), on completion of a double language major degree, had taken a teaching position in the south of France and, as delicately as they could, parents encouraged me to sort things out \u2014 in his (hopefully) stabilizing company. Sold!<\/p>\r\n
A year\u2019s worth of reflection, not to mention subsistence living, can do a lot for one\u2019s perspective. Longer hair and a longer view now holding sway, I apparently had come to my senses \u2014 or whatever passed for sense in the early \u201970\u2019s. Close observation of the human condition (foibles and vulnerabilities included) had been fuelled of necessity. An attractive co-hiker made hitching a ride infinitely more accessible. A ready explanation for what, on first glance might appear to be wide of a truthful mark, could save hours of tedious inquiry. Feigned incomprehension, language barriers being what they were, fostered a confused shrug in place of a dressing down. Functional empathy in play . . . watch and learn. Grifting 101.<\/p>\r\n
I reasoned that hammering away at the Ivy School of Business may not have been the way to go \u2014 at least not in the conventional sense. In my year of living. . . well, just living, I\u2019d accumulated a substantial store of understanding (albeit informal) of just how this human animal functions in situ. It seemed to be a bit of a waste to just ditch all that practical prep work. And so, on to psychology . . . in a more (or less) formal way. And hence, the question.<\/p>\r\n
\u2018What is psychology for?\u2019 she asked. I could see her point, particularly against a backstory of less than stellar scholastic efforts to date. And, to be fair, most anything (excepting perhaps philosophy) would, on the surface, offer a career choice with a
more direct vector to, well, usefulness. So I punted. \u2018To be a psychologist the basics needed to be acquired: child development, a smattering of neuroscience, statistics, assessment, vocational choice, forensics, social and (what I\u2019d been unofficially \u2018studying\u2019 for the preceding twelve-month) abnormal psychology\u2019. The pause, slow nod, and slightly furrowed brow suggested that there were follow-up queries lurking. But perhaps that was enough for now. The word fog was settling in. And I\u2019m not entirely sure she really wanted an answer. Or. . . for that matter, I could have provided one.<\/p>\r\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The query caught me a bit off guard. As much, because my mother didn\u2019t really ask direct questions \u2014 or even ask questions at all. She was more the kind of quiet, worrying type, trusting that things would more or less work out on their own. And, I expect that experience had taught her that […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[1],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.davidhowardpsychologist.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/565"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.davidhowardpsychologist.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.davidhowardpsychologist.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.davidhowardpsychologist.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.davidhowardpsychologist.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=565"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/www.davidhowardpsychologist.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/565\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":575,"href":"https:\/\/www.davidhowardpsychologist.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/565\/revisions\/575"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.davidhowardpsychologist.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=565"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.davidhowardpsychologist.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=565"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.davidhowardpsychologist.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=565"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}