A Social Science Research Project

It’s the day I have to move to the army's campsite. I grab my bag and swing them on my shoulder, it weighs a ton it feels like my shoulder’s gonna break. Sophie was peeking through my room door, as I was about to stand up she ran to the living room curled up into a ball making loud thud and sobbing noises. Outside of the house, I hug my mom as tight as I could, I don’t want to move any single inch of my bone. I want to stay like this forever. I felt a drop of water behind my shoulder and I know that it was her tears. I don’t want to leave them but I have to. It was time to let go but she didn’t want to, I grab her arm and slightly push them back.

As I woke up that faithful Monday morning, rain fell in torrents from the sky. It had been raining all weekend, and it would not stop no matter how hard I begged. My family and I had stayed in a hotel near to my new college for a few days before the move-in day. I felt apprehensive about the whole situation, and the rain did not help this feeling. As the upperclassmen loaded up my belongings onto carts, my parents and siblings followed me up to my new dorm. Then, as I opened the door for the first time, I flinched at seeing my new room. The room was tiny compared to my bedroom at home. On top of that, I am only able to utilize half of the space.

On a typical March evening in Naples, I was introduced to this world- not the one in Italy (I wish) but in Florida. Unfortunately, my residence there was only temporary because I skipped around from place to place several times in Florida. In retrospect, however, I can credit my current “rugged individualist” character to these times. The “rugged” part did not until later though, so I was a bashful little boy until then. Anyways, there were several mornings while enjoying my Corn Flakes where I told my mother that I did not feel well so that I did not have to go to school. She did not ever find anything wrong with me, so I would reluctantly pick up my oversized, black book bag and start my day. Consequently, this shyness is what led to my isolationist character, which I did not truly break until the age of around 15. So, in Florida, I lived until the age of ten and I was a “special”, devoted introvert.

I shake my head and smooth out my black dress. Checking the time, I realize I have to leave. I take one last glance in the mirror. My eyes are red and puffy. I look like I haven’t slept in days and that’s true. I left Northeastern and drove to Virginia only three days ago. I might have been glad to take a break from senior year under better circumstances. Since I was the only sibling who volunteered to stay home with Daddy, I was left cooking and cleaning and watching after our completely unprepared father. I guess Mel and Ryan had kids to look after now, but they abandoned me in this

As the moon casts its light through the wooden blinds, at almost two to two after midnight, the flickering shadows and boisterous snores of twenty other individuals, who share my room, keep me wide awake. Eventually, I close my eyes, only to open them a few hours later. The very roommates who kept me awake through the night, now ruin my sleep as they scramble to get in line to take a shower at the only bathhouse in the tumbledown structure where I lived. I shake the rheum off my eyes and head toward the bathhouse. It’s still dark outside but the sporadic cock crows remind me it’s morning. After showering, I eat a light meal and begin my thirty-minute trek to school. My day had just begun and I am already exhausted. Under these stressful conditions, I forged a resolve to shape my future and improve the lives of others who find themselves in similar conditions. Thus, in every area of my life, I endeavor to go the extra mile and strive for success.

As school begins at a new institution, exuberance flows through your veins, and you skip towards a sea of new faces. Stares of disgust penetrate through you as if you have wronged these individuals by being in their presence. Far from the expected, you brush the feeling of anguish off and decide to walk up to a group of friendly looking individuals. You manage to put your left foot in front of your right just three times before the group recognizes the attempt of involvement, and opts to disperse as if being pulled away from you by a riptide. Surrounded my hundreds of new faces, never have you felt so lonely. Knowing none of this is because of your personal actions, but those of your parents, you feel drowned in a sea of grief.

“The responsible Dream Machine” was constructed as an incentive activity to promote cognitive skills through the medium of painting for young male college students. In the process, the workshop also alluded to stress relief, creativity, emotional benefits and physical benefits. Three diverse members of the student community constructed the congruency; I contacted all three members personally and agreed to partake. The workshop was presented in the OPTA classroom and was introduced by a PowerPoint presentation to present the reasons why the three students where there for and to slowly venture into the realm of painting for leisure purposes.

The message amongst social interest is decisions that are prepared to profit the world as an entire. Idyllically, social interest involves an individual who’s logical, and really considerate of the well-being of the world. These kind actions done by individual who act sincerely when dealing with social interest shows compassionate leadership. However, [s] ocial interest is typically viewed as being predictive of individuals’ adjustment, and psychological health (Ansbacher, 1968/1991; Manaster, Zeynep, & Knill, 2003). Social interest was intended for each adjusted steps, normally made by individuals, to carefully planned for the embetterment of the world. Philosopher Alfred Adler created the question whether people are truly “inborn or does

The solvents used in pathology services expose the hospital staff to a neurotoxic risk. Through literature, few studies have explored

The first step in sociological research is to create a hypothesis, and then to operationalize an idea by transforming the subject into something that can be measured. This research can be then carried out in two ways: either quantitative or qualitative. In both of these fields, there are multiple methods of how to go about research. Sociological research is important in understanding public attitudes and helping to enact new policies. It is a way to understand society, and make more informed decisions about the ideas people discuss. For example, every day a vast amount of people choose to take their life away for multiple reasons. One aspect of social life that I would like to go more in detail in, is why people attempt to or actually commit suicide. By understanding the leading causes for suicide, society can help prevent or at least understand what someone else is going through without places a negative stigma on their situation.

“What?” I ask. Did I hear him correctly? “I said, get out. Pack your things, and leave. We don’t need a sinner in this house. You disgust me. I want you to get your stuff, all of it, and leave this house. Don’t bother coming back,” he says, voice firm. The streams are back, threatening to become rivers, maybe even oceans. Instead of sorrow and confusion, the streams are of despair and despondency. My sister looks crestfallen. I make my way upstairs, knowing there’s nothing I can do to change this. When I get in my room, I get the extra suitcase I have in my closet. I open it, and put my clothes inside. Then, I go to the bathroom, and get my toiletries. Once I pack those up, I get my phone, my charger, my headphones, and the wad of cash I keep in my dresser. Once I have all my stuff together, I start to go downstairs, but before I do, I look around my room one more time, knowing it could possibly be the last time I see it again. When I get downstairs, I see dad with the same stoic expression on his face. Mom doesn’t look shocked anymore, just… revolted. Sierra looks extremely upset. She’s the only one who really accepted me for me. I make my way to the front door, dragging my feet as I do.

How does having a car affect a student's social life? My hypothesis is that transportation and having a car highly affects social life for a student. I chose this because having a car or having transportation can highly increase your social life and the way you interact with people. A lot of social events happen off campus and require a car to get to. Also, a lot of events take place in other cities or college towns. I will be using qualitative methods since I am dealing with social interactions and looking into the detail of the research. I will collect my data through experiments and surveys of other students opinions. I will ask questions about their own personal experience about their social life and if they have cars and how

The challenge within the workplace in which I will focus the case study inquiry project (CSIP) are the internal obstacle that occur when encouraging creativity and innovation, while still working with in a state system regulated by classifications, job titles and archaic styles. The Washington State Community and Technical College system, including our college South Puget Sound Community College, has seen continual struggle with the idea of change and technology. We are willing to see our students need for new and innovative ideas, but this has not been as easily accepted by the staff and faculty.

Sociologists use many different designs and methods to study society and social behavior. Most sociological research involves ethnography, or “field work” designed to depict the characteristics of a population as fully as possible.

When you’re underwater you forget what air feels like but you come up for air and it feels as if it’s something new. I haven’t come up for air in such a long time. Coming home from school feels as if I swam deeper. It became normal, to come home to a parent who swims in a pool of liquor. Instead of being greeted at the door by a fur ball, I was greeted by my dad waiting by the stairs. “How was school?” he said playing with his hands. His face was swollen and a little red. “I’m going upstairs, I can help you later with whatever we’re eating,” I say that as I go up the steps. If anyone heard me speak like that to my dad, it would be considered rude. But, I question myself, “Does he really care?” I feel like he has to ask me that to feel like a parent and not like an alcoholic who has no idea what’s going on. At the moment I was more curious to see where my dog was. I open the door to my parents’ room to see my dog and her food bowl. Why would he put her here? I just took her to my room and closed the door. With it being Fall, it quickly got dark by six o’clock. I was tapping my pencil against my notebook, trying to figure out where the nucleus of the cell was. Through the vents I could hear voices, I thought nothing of it and continued. I told myself it was just the television my dad was watching. I knew I was lying to myself. I realized that my room was above one of the rooms downstairs not the living room. Slowly getting up from my chair and walking down the hall, I wanted