Donna L. Roberts, PhD (Psych Pstuff)
Writer, psychologist and university professor researching media psych, generational studies, human and animal rights, and industrial/organizational psychology
The Nature and Purpose of Intelligence, Aptitude, and Special Aptitude Tests
In general terms, various forms of psychological tests have been employed for the purpose of measuring “differences between individuals or between the reactions of the same individual under different circumstances” (Anastasi & Urbina, 1997, p. 2). More specifically, the measurement of ability represents one of the most widespread applications of psychology and psychometrics in everyday life. These assessments of ability range from instruments that test general mental ability – referred to as intelligence tests – to those that tap specific abilities – referred to as aptitude and special aptitude tests.
One person’s abnormal is another person’s normal
Differentiating the nuances of normalcy from psychopathology has plagued psychologists since the early days of clinical diagnosis.
Living the Dream in Paris
Glass exploded in my face as the deafening percussion pounded my ears. “GET DOWN! GET DOWN!” Brad screamed. “THEY’RE SHOOTING AT US!” I dove to the floor of the Mercedes, just as a big, hairy hand reached menacingly towards me. My fantastic dream had just turned into a living nightmare!
Mom & Me — A Tale of Two Tattoos
“My mom will talk me out of it for sure,” I said with confidence. “She just about flipped out when I got a second piercing in my ears.”
When Your Patient Teaches You a Thing or Two About Living
The thing about clinical work is that each day you never know what’s coming. You can be working with a patient in the most clear-cut treatment plan with everything going textbook perfect and suddenly . . .
The Great Neighborhood Debate of 1977
The Story The summer of 1977 was the summer of the great debate in my neighborhood. I was 11 years old. The controversy: Rocky vs Star Wars. It was divisive. You were on one side of this proverbial fence or the other. And while it didn’t end friendships (because the bonds of summer bike rides and swimming and camping in the back yard were too strong) it did spawn many an argument.
An Open Letter to the Father I Never Knew
Dear . . . not sure what to write here . . . what to call you . . . absent father, maybe? But you have been . . . you are . . . so much less . . . and so much more.
Hope in New Orleans
Her name was Hope and that was just what I needed her to be. As I drew back the faded chintz curtain to the back room of Marie Laveau’s House of Voodoo, I expected to see a crystal ball, a black cat, and Hope sitting on a throne, donning a dark purple gothic robe covered with stars and moons. Instead, she was wearing a dowdy, flower print dress — the kind my grandma used to call a housedress. She looked up and saw me, slipping her Styrofoam plate of Chinese food under the plasticized cardboard table and putting away her Harlequin romance. With her beer belly and unkempt gray hair, she would have looked more at home sitting at a battered kitchen table in a trailer, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes with the soaps blaring and a grandchild howling in a dirty playpen in the corner. If there were spirits from the netherworld here it seemed more likely they were of the trailer park trash variety than the supremely divine. It seemed more likely they might kick my city-girl butt just for fun than offer an aura of spiritual protection.