1. SCHOOL OF ARCHITECTURE, BUILDING AND DESIGN
THE DESIGN SCHOOL
FOUNDATION IN NATURAL BUILD ENVIRONMENT
NAME:Audrey Ting Ming Fang
STUDENT ID NO:0320247
Subject:Social Psychology (PSY30203)
LECTURER: T. Shankar
SUBMISSION DATE:APRIL 27th
, 2015
2. Date: 21.4.15
Time: 6.00pm
Entry 1: The False Consensus Effect
On the April morning, I found out about Lucy’s mother, it rained. I did
not know whatkind of cancer her mother had until later, but I know her
condition was very serious. I loveLucy’s mother almost as much as I love
my own parents, and Lucy is my best friends. But I did not want to go to
schoolthat day and I suredid not want to see Lucy. What could I possibly
say to her? What do people say to their friend at such a time? I tried to
every trick to get out of going to schoolbut mom insisted. My mom told me
to stay closeto Lucy becausethat poor girl is going to need my strength.
Strength? What was mom talking about? I had no strength. I didn’t even
know whatto say to my best friend. I hid out in the choir room between
classes in hopes of avoiding Lucy, but she was never out of my thoughts. I
kept trying to come up with something appropriateto say to her becauseI
really wanted to get it right. I even wroteout a dialogue between the two
of us, but in the end, I tore it up simply did not sound like me. Lucy and I
had last-period English in Mrs. Soon room. I was going to have to face her
last period and I still did not have a plan. However, I worried needlessly
because Lucy never showed up for class. When English class was over, Mrs.
Soon spoketo me, sheknew Lucy is my best friend and asked me how Lucy
was handling her mother’s illness. I said I did not know how she was
handling anything because I had not seen or heard from her since yesterday.
Mrs. Soon told me that I will be seeing her shortly becauseLucy is coming
here in a few minutes to get her lesson assignments. My heart tightened
into a hard knot and I trembled inwardly. I still did not know whatto say to
Lucy and time was running out. I finally made an excuse and left the
classroom. I raced down the hall and out the frontdoor of school practically
in one breath. Ithad stopped raining and the air smelled clean and fresh. A
rainbow cut across the sky and the wind tossed my hair in all directions
until I pulled up the hood of my yellow raincoat. In the distance I saw
3. someone coming towards me. I knew it was Lucy even though I could not
see her face. She had her head down and she was wearing a yellow raincoat
exactly like mine. She had pulled her hood up too, may be she had not seen
me. Maybe if I ran back inside and hid in the choir room again, she would
not find me. Then I noticed how Lucy’s shoulders shook with every step
she took. And I knew shemust be crying because I was. The rain came
down again. Lucy’s heartwas breaking and I was not doing a thing to help
her. As I drew nearer to her, my throat tightened, making it impossibleto
speak, even if I had known whatto say. I prayed for strength, the strength
my mother claimed I already had, and I forced myself to move forward. We
hugged then, but I still could not utter a sound. But we finally came face to
face and let her know that I really cared abouther. Looking back, I learned
something that day that I might never havegrasped in any other way. Since
then, Lucy has told everyoneshe sees that I havethe gift of saying justthe
right words atjustthe right time. I still do not think she realizes that on the
day we hugged in the April rain, I never said a word.
4. Date: 22.4.15
Time: 7.00pm
Entry 2: Social Influence
While in middle school, students seem to haveone goal: to be
popular. More than anything, mostof the students fervently hope to not be
accused of going againstthe grain. These young teenagers would much
rather conformand be accepted by the “in” crowd than focus on finding
their own identity, style or path. Like most thirteen-year-olds, I succumbed
to this need to fit in. One afternoon, however, I had a conversation with my
father that made me think twice about following the rest of the lemmings
over the proverbialcliff. My dad and I weresitting in the dining area eating
lunch. We had run the gambit of usual conversation topics: schools and my
plans for the weekend. Then, I am not quite surehow the discussion began,
we started talking aboutpopularity. I told him that I wanted to be popular,
or at least accepted favorably by thosewho were. He looked at me and
asked why I felt that way. I shrugged my shoulders and looked back into my
drink. I had never stopped to think about why I felt the need to fit in. I had
been told by my friends that I should want to be popular, and since I had
always trusted them, I was inclined to believe them. My father proceeded
to tell me a story from his college days. His mother, my grandmother had
made him a singlet to wear at school. These singlet were practical and
comfortable but hardly ‘in style’. Nevertheless, they became a staple of my
father’s wardrobe. Hedid not care what everyonethought of him. I was
shocked. Whatwas even more surprising was thatafter a few weeks, other
students at my dad’s schoolbegan wearing singlet. By deviating fromthe
norm, my father had started a trend. What he worebecame fashionable
because other students saw the confidence with which he dressed. This
information was a lot for a thirteen-year-old girl to process, especially one
who had been carefully taught what was cooland what was mostcertainly
not cool. I found it hard to believe that going againstthe grain could have
benefits for me, so I continued to wear the same clothes, listen to the same
5. music and go to the same places that my friends did. I had not seen the
light yet and I continued on my quest for popularity. However, our
conversation that day replayed over and over in my mind. As the days
passed and I mulled it over, I realized that my father’s words mighthave
some validity after all. I began to evaluate my wardrobeto find which items
I have boughtbecause they werecool and which items I had bought
because I truly liked them. I also looked back at my actions, attempting to
determine how many of them I performed becauseI actually enjoyed them.
I have come a long way a long way since middle school. It no longer bothers
me that those who still feel compelled to follow the herd do not accept me
as one of their own. I do not striveto dress in the latest fashions. I attempt
to create my own. The conversation I had with my father about wearing
sweater feeling the need to fit in sparked in me the desireto deviate from
the beaten path and formone of my own instead of affected by others.
6. Date: 23.4.15
Time: 2.00pm
Entry 3: Confirmation Bias
Having been raised Catholic by parents who worked hard for every
penny they earned, I was taught at an early age that money cannot buy
happiness. As much as my parents and the church tried to teach me these
values, I had to learn through my own experience that happiness comes
fromwithin and cannot be measured by material possessions. As a child, I
would sit in church, trying to concentrate on the words of the priest, but
my attention was soon diverted by the sparkleof gold and diamonds worn
by the Sunday churchgoers. As many eyes began to wander, I noticed men
dressed in their tailored suits and women in their designer dresses. My
family, on the other hand, was the oppositeof glamorous. Our clothes had
been washed for several times that the colour had become dull and lifeless.
Although our clothes revealed the money struggles of our large family, our
faces were always washed, our hair neatly combed and we each tossed ten
dollars in the basketeven when the second collection. I continued these
fantasies when I was an adolescent attending catholic school. Since it was a
private school, mostof the children came fromwealthy families. As a result,
I constantly felt inferior to the rest of my classmates. Although I could hide
my lack of wealth at schoolby wearing our mandated schooluniforms, my
poverty was embarrassingly apparenton weekends when my classmates
woredesigners jeans and I had no choice but to wear my sister’s jeans.
Once, because I could not afford a birthday gifts, I gave one of my own used
CDs to a friends in school. When she opened the gift, her face twisted into a
strangelook as if shedid not know whether to laugh or say thank you. I
began to believe so much in the material world that I started my first job
when I was fourteen so that I could afford thosethings that were going to
make me happy. Soon I was working two jobs in order to fulfill my needs. I
began to purchasesmartphones, clothes and jewelry. Each purchasewas a
sign of hope. Each time I thought that this is really going to make me happy.
7. Within a few days that feeling of emptiness came over me again. I would
dream bigger and set my goals higher to purchasesomething even better.
Unfortunately, it took many of these disappointing and painful experiences
for me to realize that whatI admired in other people was not their clothes.
Itwas their self-confidence. I admired the way they carried themselves,
their ability to take on new challenges and the way they looked people in
eyes during conversation instead of looking at theirs toes. I knew then thatI
would never be a complete person until I started doing some works on the
inside. I had to go all the way down the wrong road in life to realize that I
was headed in the wrong direction. As a result, I now possess those
qualities that I had always admired in other people. I know each time I put
on a new outfit and look in the mirror, the sameperson will be underneath
it all. I now can carry myself with an air of confidencefor I haveno reason
to look down.
8. Date: 24.4.15
Time: 9.00pm
Entry4: Social perception
I have never read an official study on the matter, but I havenoticed
that in animal shelters, black cats are the most overlooked. Black seems to
be the least preferred of cat colours, ranking below all combinations of
white, grey, spotted and striped. Black cats are still stereotyped as
creatures of bad luck. To make matters worse, in cages, black cats become
close to invisible, fading into the dark shadows in the back of a stainless
steel cage. When I was in secondary school, I volunteered at an urban
animal shelter. Italways struck me that as particularly unfair that I had get
to know affectionate , adorable black cats only to watch them be passed
over by adopters only because of their colour. One day, I spent a few
minutes petting a sweet, black half-grown kitten, who had been found as
stray and brought to the shelter. The slender thing purred warmly at my
attention, gently playfulas shepatted my hand with one paw. I thought
about whata shameit was that the kitten was already too big to be
adopted an baby-kitten appeal alone and so solidly black that mostpeople
would not pause in front of her cage. I noticed there was no name written
on the information card on her cage since volunteers were welcome to
name the strays thatcame to the shelter. The name Jellybean popped into
my head and I wrote on her card. I was taken entirely surprisewhen, later
that afternoon, I overheard a woman walking through the cat room say
what a wonderfulname. After a few minutes, the woman told me that she
would like to adopt this black kitten. I was pleased. I was surprised again a
few weeks later when the woman came back to the shelter. She had been
wanting to stop back to thank you. Shetold me that sheis the sweetest
thing. I told her that I was touched that shehad stopped by and thrilled to
hear that Jellybean was doing well in her new room. Then I explained how I
thought black cats were often unfairly overlooked. Shetold me that I
should name all the black cats Jellybean so that the cats would probably
9. adopted otherwise. Justbecause I named one kitten Jellybean and it had
gotten adopted did not mean anything. Ithad justbeen a strokeof luck.
Black cats werestill black cats, after all, most people did not wantthem.
There was only one, a small black kitten alone in a cage, sleeping. I wrote
Jellybean on its cage. Later that afternoon someone came along and said
they would like to adopt that little Jellybean. A few days later, a nameless
black cat came along, fully grown. I named it Jellybean. Itwas adopted.
Days later, another adopted. The process repeated itself enough times that,
after a while, I had to admit that may be there was some magic in the name.
Of course, we need more far-reaching solutions to ensurethat every cat
has a home.
10. Date: 25.4.15
Time: 3.00pm
Entry 5: Counterfactual Thinking
I was sitting next to Michelle in my formfour history class when Mrs.
Lee announced a new project. In groups, wewereto create a newspaper
around the culture wewere studying. On a piece of paper, we wrote the
names of three friends wewanted in our group. After collecting all the
requests, Mrs. Lee informed us that she would take into consideration the
names we chose and would let us know the results the next day. I had no
doubt that I would get the group of my choice. The next day, I waited
anxiously awaited the class. After the bell rang, Michelle and I stopped
talking as Mrs. Lee called for our attention. She started to call out names.
When shereached group three, Michelle’s name was called. So I am in
group three, I thought. The second, third and fourth members of the group
were called. My name was not included. There had to be somemistakes.
Then I heard it. My name was in the last group. I could feel the tears well in
my eyes. How could I face being in that group. Oh, how badly I wanted to
be with my friends. I foughtback tears as I walked up to Mrs. Lee. She
looked at me and knew whatI was there for. I was determined to convince
her I should be in the “good” group. I asked her why. She gently placed her
hand on my shoulder and said she knew what I wanted but my group
needed me and only I can help them. I was stunned. I kept on begging her
to let me with my friends but she refused. Finally, I said I will with the same
group with them. As I bravely walked to where the others in my group sat, I
could hear the laughter frommy friends. I satdown and we started.
Halfway through the week, I felt myself enjoying the company of these
three misfits. They were not misfits, justpeople that no one cared enough
about to try to understand- except Mrs. Lee. Her thoughtfulness brought
out the potential in four of her students. After that semester ended, I
always received a friendly hello frommy group and I always genuinely
happy to see them. Mrs. Lee gave us an A on that assignment.
