Indicate a person who has had a significant influence on you, and describe that influence.
"Have you dissected any sheep eyeballs before?"
"Not lately."
This strange dialogue is a snippet of what was a common occurrence in my AP Psychology class. Our teacher Mr. Acker, with his short-boxed beard, slightly high-pitched voice and a wry humor that could be easily missed, taught us a most interesting subject in the most unconventional ways. I was lucky to be placed in the first year of AP Psychology class at our school as demands were high and seniors had first priority. The class -the highlight of my junior year- and more importantly Mr. Acker, introduced me to a new dimension of learning and led me to discover my latent passion for psychology.
As I walked into the first day of class, I noticed with piqued interest a duct-tape square marked out on the carpeted floor in front of the classroom. Mr. Acker began with a brief introduction and without any instructions, asked for five volunteers from the class. They were ushered out of the classroom and while they waited, Mr. Acker predicted the ways that the students would arrange themselves inside the box drawn on the ground. He was so sure of his prognostication we were so dubious that the class watched in awe as the volunteers, without fail, arranged themselves exactly as Mr. Acker had predicted. One by one, the students were brought back and instructed to stand anywhere the box; the first chose to stand in the middle while the rest each occupied a corner. I was instantly captivated by Mr. Acker's ability to understand and anticipate the unspoken rules that govern even the simplest group behavior. I wanted to learn more about those rules that are not only specific to group behavior but are also principal to the human mind.
Mr. Acker further challenged our understanding of psychology by finding new ways to reinforce our learning by provoking all of our senses. We listened to relaxation tapes, conditioned our salivary glands with lemon powder, and upset our occipital lobes with disorienting goggles. His easygoing Type B personality directly contrasted with my heart-disease-prone Type A personality and impelled his memorable teaching methods. We never knew what to expect each day as we walked into class. Someday we would be watching a video (such as one of a giraffe on the stages of loss) while others we worked in group on activities (such as counting different colors of M&Ms to experience statistics). At school I soaked up the lectures while at home I devoured the textbook, reading ahead chapters in advance.
Before long, I knew that psychology was going to be my major in college. The class, and especially Mr. Acker, led me to want to seek a deeper understanding of the motivations behind human behavior, and to examine to what extent the biological functions of the brain control thought and actions. Realizing how much I miss the class this year, I started a psychology club at my school with Mr. Acker as the adviser. I continue to research psychology, and I try to introduce new ideas and stimulate engaging conversations as part of the psychology club.
Any suggestions on a concluding sentence? Thank you!
"Have you dissected any sheep eyeballs before?"
"Not lately."
This strange dialogue is a snippet of what was a common occurrence in my AP Psychology class. Our teacher Mr. Acker, with his short-boxed beard, slightly high-pitched voice and a wry humor that could be easily missed, taught us a most interesting subject in the most unconventional ways. I was lucky to be placed in the first year of AP Psychology class at our school as demands were high and seniors had first priority. The class -the highlight of my junior year- and more importantly Mr. Acker, introduced me to a new dimension of learning and led me to discover my latent passion for psychology.
As I walked into the first day of class, I noticed with piqued interest a duct-tape square marked out on the carpeted floor in front of the classroom. Mr. Acker began with a brief introduction and without any instructions, asked for five volunteers from the class. They were ushered out of the classroom and while they waited, Mr. Acker predicted the ways that the students would arrange themselves inside the box drawn on the ground. He was so sure of his prognostication we were so dubious that the class watched in awe as the volunteers, without fail, arranged themselves exactly as Mr. Acker had predicted. One by one, the students were brought back and instructed to stand anywhere the box; the first chose to stand in the middle while the rest each occupied a corner. I was instantly captivated by Mr. Acker's ability to understand and anticipate the unspoken rules that govern even the simplest group behavior. I wanted to learn more about those rules that are not only specific to group behavior but are also principal to the human mind.
Mr. Acker further challenged our understanding of psychology by finding new ways to reinforce our learning by provoking all of our senses. We listened to relaxation tapes, conditioned our salivary glands with lemon powder, and upset our occipital lobes with disorienting goggles. His easygoing Type B personality directly contrasted with my heart-disease-prone Type A personality and impelled his memorable teaching methods. We never knew what to expect each day as we walked into class. Someday we would be watching a video (such as one of a giraffe on the stages of loss) while others we worked in group on activities (such as counting different colors of M&Ms to experience statistics). At school I soaked up the lectures while at home I devoured the textbook, reading ahead chapters in advance.
Before long, I knew that psychology was going to be my major in college. The class, and especially Mr. Acker, led me to want to seek a deeper understanding of the motivations behind human behavior, and to examine to what extent the biological functions of the brain control thought and actions. Realizing how much I miss the class this year, I started a psychology club at my school with Mr. Acker as the adviser. I continue to research psychology, and I try to introduce new ideas and stimulate engaging conversations as part of the psychology club.
Any suggestions on a concluding sentence? Thank you!
Do You Need