What happens in students’ minds when they encounter a new environment during the study abroad?

My research was a longitudinal project with a combination of interviews and questionnaires. Both of them cover similar questions and also contain different questions to supplement each other. After two years of data collection, I had obtained a vast amount of data. In this section, I would like to illustrate Japanese international students’ psychological experiences during the period of their study abroad in the United Kingdom by selecting some of the most significant findings from both kinds of data.

In my interview research, I especially focused upon imagery and metaphors in students’ narratives. Metaphors here are treated differently from in linguistic research where the focus might be on the formulation of metaphor. In counselling, metaphors are treated in a similar way to imagery and it is thought that imagery and metaphors can moderate difficult feelings often caused by talking about psychological issues (Morgan, 1996; Siegelman, 1990). For this reason, many counsellors use imagery and metaphors in their counselling practice and also for their own training. It is, therefore, appropriate to take this approach with metaphor in my research to explore international students’ psychological experiences. In the presentation here, I shall link these qualitative data with quantitative data from the questionnaires in order to give as rich a picture as possible.


Adjustment levels over the year
First of all, I will present the results of three psychological tests which I used in my questionnaires. They are Dundee Relocation Inventory (DRI) (Fisher, 1989), Cognitive Failure Questionnaire (CFQ) (Broadbent et al., 1982) and General Well-Being Schedule (GWB) (Fazio, 1977). The first test measures a degree of homesickness, the second test measures a level of psychological fatigue and the third test measures the individual’s well-being on the whole.

The average DRI score of the research participants in themiddle of the year was 32.48. Comparing it with the average DRI score (17.5) in Fisher’s (1989) study of homesickness in students, this clearly shows that the Japanese students suffered severely from homesickness. The students in Fisher’s study entered university in their own country, therefore they only moved from their home town to the town where their university is located. My research participants moved to a different country very far from their home country. It is natural that differences and unfamiliarity experienced by the students in the current study are greater than those in Fisher’s study. The result implies that the distance from home and the degree of differences and unfamiliarity in a host town are positively related to the degree of homesickness. It is also apparent that homesickness experienced by my research participants remained at the same level throughout the year, a question I shall return to below.


The higher the score the stronger the indication that an individual experiences more failures in perception, memory and motor function and is thus psychologically tired (Broadbent et al., 1982). The CFQ score for the
middle period was a mean of 42.74. This was higher than the CFQ score in Fisher and Hood’s (1987) study, where the score was 39.46 in the sixth week of the autumn term. This suggests that the participants in my research experienced psychological fatigue more severely and for longer.

The higher the score, the stronger the indication of good conditions inpsychological well-being. The GWB score is divided into three levels depending upon the score. The lowest level is from 0 to 55 and it is labelled ‘clinically significant distress’. The middle level is from 56 to 70 and it is called ‘problem-indicative stress’. The top level is from 71 to 110 and it is named ‘positive well-being’.

Each level is further divided into three to five sub-levels. Here I have just presented the lower and middle parts of the scale within which the students’ score fell. The black line is the average score of the Japanese students. The lower grey horizontal line is the border between severe and moderate in ‘problem-indicative stress’ level and the upper pale horizontal line shows the border with mild problem-indicative stress level.

Comparing the Japanese students’ scores to the standardised score of the GWB, we can see that the scores in all of the three periods reached problem-indicative stress level. The scores at the arrival and in the middle period indicate severe problem-indicative stress level. According to the above indications, the scores of the Japanese students over the year fall into the middle level, ‘problem-indicative stress’. In fact, scores at the arrival point and in the middle of the year are both in the severe level. At the end of the period, scores slightly went up, but not high enough to reach the moderate level.


All three psychological tests imply that the Japanese international students in the United Kingdom suffered homesickness and psychological fatigue and their general well-being level remained very low over the year.
Through examining the results of these tests, it is possible to grasp the students’ psychological conditions in general. Now, I would like to investigate what actually happened in their minds when they felt so tired,
lonely and unhappy. To do so, I would like to examine students’ narratives and the metaphors in the following subsections.
Read More : What happens in students’ minds when they encounter a new environment during the study abroad?

Social Anxiety among College Students

Anxiety Sensitivity
Anxiety sensitivity – fear of anxiety-related sensations due to perceived consequences of physical, mental, or social harm – is considered an imperative factor in the maintenance and development of anxiety disorders (Reiss and McNally, 1985). This construct is much more specific than the previously proposed anxiety-related construct of trait anxiety. There is much variability in how prone people are to experience anxiety. Some individuals experience anxiety when minimally provoked, and others require much more stressful circumstances.

Individual differences in how prone one is to experience anxiety is considered trait anxiety (Taylor, 1999). The tendency to see the world as dangerous or threatening or the tendency to become anxious across situations sums up the broad definition of trait anxiety (Beck and Emery, 1985). A more sophisticated conceptualization was offered in a hierarchical model of trait anxiety (Lilienfeld, Turner, and Jacob, 1993). In this model, anxiety consists of one higher-order factor, the general concept of trait anxiety, and three lower-order factors: anxiety sensitivity, fear of negative evaluation, and fear of illness or injury sensitivity. This model later received empirical support (Taylor, 1995). Anxiety sensitivity is conceptually different from trait anxiety in that anxiety sensitivity represents the tendency to fear or respond anxiously to arousal symptoms whereas trait anxiety refers to the tendency to have an anxious response to any stressor or stressors in general (Holloway and McNally, 1987). In sum, the development and severity of a variety of anxiety conditions is determined by three fundamental fears: negative evaluation, fear of injury or death, and anxiety sensitivity (Reiss and McNally, 1985; Reiss, 1991). According to the sensitivity theory of motivation, anxiety sensitivity is a genetically based aversion to anxiety that is combined with beliefs about the negative consequences of anxiety (Reiss and Havercamp, 1996).

Anxiety Sensitivity Index

The Anxiety Sensitivity Index (ASI; Reiss, Peterson, Gursky, and McNally, 1986; Peterson and Reiss, 1992) was developed to measure and test the theory of anxiety sensitivity. The ASI consists of 16-items asking about the degree to which an individual finds anxiety sensations fearful or catastrophic in outcome (Peterson and Reiss, 1992). Individuals respond to each question on a five-point Likert scale ranging from 0 (“very little”) to 4 (“very much”). A recent psychometric analysis of the ASI was conducted by Zinbarg, Barlow, and
Brown (1997). They found that the ASI is made up of a hierarchy of subscales. The lowest first-order factors assess three areas: physical concerns, mental incapacitation concerns, and social concerns. Most of the items on the ASI address the fear of physical harm resulting from anxious sensations, as reflected in the first factor. Examples of items targeting an individual’s beliefs about mental incapacitation include “When I cannot keep my mind on a task, I worry that I might be going crazy” and “When I am nervous, I worry that I am mentally ill.” Finally, items measuring the feared social consequences of anxiety sensations include “Other people notice when I feel shaky” and “It is important to me not to appear nervous.”

Anxiety Sensitivity and Panic Disorder

Anxiety sensitivity appears to predispose individuals to panic disorder. Lilienfeld (1997) found that anxiety sensitivity predicts a history of panic attacks above and beyond indicators of more general trait anxiety or negative affect. Anxiety sensitivity measures differentiated individuals who experience panic attacks but do not have panic disorder from those who have never had a panic attack (Norton, Cox, and Malan, 1992). Individuals high in anxiety sensitivity are considered to be at greater risk to experience panic attacks and develop panic disorder than individuals with low levels of anxiety sensitivity.

Anxiety sensitivity may develop from direct experience with aversive events such as serious illness or injury. Alternatively, exposure to the serious illness or death of a family member or the influence of an overprotective parent may also contribute to an individual’s vulnerability to anxiety sensitivity (Craske, 1999). Anxiety sensitivity is associated with a heightened level of attention paid to internal physical cues. Individuals who experience panic appear to have an elevated awareness or an increased ability to identify and detect bodily
sensations associated with arousal. This increased ability to detect physical cues may predispose an individual for the development of panic disorder (Craske, 1999).

Initial panic attacks occur in a variety of settings. These locations are often outside of the home (Craske, Miller, Rotunda, and Barlow, 1990), such as while at work or school, while driving, on a plane or bus, in public in general, or in a situation that is socially evaluative (Craske, 1999). Craske and Rowe (1997) proposed that initial panic attacks are most likely to occur in situations where feared physical sensations are perceived as especially threatening because of possible impairment. Examples include driving, fear of being trapped, fear of negative evaluation, or fear of being in an unfamiliar location. Certain situations or contexts are more likely to be linked with negative personal consequences of experiencing anxiety (Craske, 1999).

An intense fear of specific bodily sensations related to panic attacks often develops after an individual experiences the initial panic attack. Following a panic attack, this “fear of fear” is considered a sensitization of the individual’s predisposing trait of anxiety sensitivity. Reiss (1991) described a vicious cycle in which anxiety sensitivity increases the risk of panic attacks and panic attacks increase the levels of anxiety sensitivity. There is considerable evidence demonstrating that panic disordered individuals hold powerful beliefs and fears of
mental or physical harm occurring from bodily sensations associated with panic attacks (Craske, 1999).

Anxiety Sensitivity and Other Anxiety Disorders
The role of anxiety sensitivity has been in examined in other anxiety disorders, particularly social anxiety. However, anxiety sensitivity appears to play a different role in the maintenance of social anxiety disorder than it does in panic. Different anxiety disorders are associated with different patterns of responding on the ASI. For example, Hazen, Walker, and Stein (1995) compared ASI scores of individuals with social phobia to those of individuals with panic disorder. Results suggested a different manner of responding between the two
groups, with the social phobia group having significantly higher scores than the panic disorder group on three items (“Other people notice when I am shaky”, “It is important to me not to appear nervous”, and “It embarrasses me when my stomach growls”), all of which reflect concern for social consequences.

Anxiety Sensitivity and Social Anxiety in College Students
Given that anxiety sensitivity was elevated in individuals with social anxiety (Taylor et al., 1992), researchers have begun to examine anxiety sensitivity and social anxiety in the college student population. Gore, Carter, and Parker (2002) collected self-report measures including the Social Interaction Anxiety Scale and the Social Phobia Scale (SIAS and SPS; Mattick and Clarke, 1998), Anxiety Sensitivity Index-Physical Scale (ASI; Peterson and Reiss, 1992), and the State-Trait Anxiety Inventory (STAI-T; Speilberger, Gorsuch, and
Lushene, 1970) from 37 university students enrolled in psychology courses. All participants were also presented with a laboratory social challenge task instructing them to ask an “aloof” confederate on a date. Gore et al. (2002) found that while trait anxiety significantly predicted anxiety responses to the social challenge task, social anxiety measures were better predictors than either the ASI-physical subscale or the STAI-T. Thus, the SIAS and SPS combined accounted for more variance than either the STAI-T or the ASI-physical scale when predicting all social challenge task-related state measures. In addition, the higher the
individual’s social anxiety measure scores, the greater the state social anxiety as well as physical symptoms reported after interacting in the social challenge. In regards to anxiety sensitivity, individuals with higher ASI-physical scores did report greater fear during the social challenge. A surprising finding noted by Gore et al. was that the ASI-physical scale was nearly as good at predicting anxiety response as the SIAS and SPS combined. The ASIphysical scale significantly predicted all dependent measures, including the Beck Anxiety
Inventory (BAI; Beck, Brown, Epstein, and Steer, 1988), the Fear of Physical Sensations Questionnaire (FPSQ) which is a modified version of the Agoraphobic Cognitions Questionnaire (ACQ; Chambless, Caputo, Bright, and Gallagher, 1984), and Social State (SocS) which is a state measure adapted from a version of the Fear of Negative Evaluation scale (Watson and Friend, 1969).
Read More : Social Anxiety among College Students

Cycles of Quarterlife Meaning-Making

Cycle One: I choose myself. Quarterlifers realize at some point that they must start to take responsibility for their own lives. This moment of existential awareness may happen suddenly or gradually, over a brief or long period of time, at any age. This narrative of selfawareness and self-construction takes this form: “Only I can live my life for myself. Nobody else can tell me who I am and what I must live for. From this moment on, I’m the one who has to make sense of my life. And I’ve got almost forever to do it, because I’m young and healthy, and I feel immortal. Even though this independence is challenging, I’m looking forward to being on my own, without anyone telling me what to do.”

Cycle Two: Choosing myself is scary. Quarterlifers begin to develop a sense of their own finitude. Their self-awareness takes this shape: “I like choosing who I am and who I want to become, but I’m afraid choice carries with it certain risks. I can do anything that I want, it is true, but what is it I really want to do? The people whose advice I respect sometimes want different goals for me than I do. At times I’m afraid of letting down people whom I respect and love. I don’t want to disappoint anyone, but I also want to be independent
and happy with my own choices about how to live, love, and work. But what is it I can do that is worthwhile? Who should I love? When should I make lifelong commitments, if at all? What should I believe? I need mentors and guides I trust and respect, but who should these people be? I know that others are depending on
me to fulfill my promise as an adult, but just what are my duties to myself and my duties to others? What should I do when these duties are in conflict? Is it really possible for me to live a life of personal integrity when every choice I make stands to harm or to help others, and I’ve got to decide whose side I’m on?”

Cycle Three: I’m not really as free to choose as I thought I was. In the third cycle, quarterlifers become far more aware of their own boundedness. They realize that their choices are limited by their external circumstances, their individual temperaments, and other conditions over which they have little control. They still relish the idea of being autonomous agents who are able to construct their own meanings, but now the whole experience takes on a sharper, existential edge. It is more tuned in to the limitations of finite existence and bounded choice-making, as well as to what the Greeks called fortuna (“chance” or “luck”). No longer is the quarterlifer a superman or superwoman.

Happiness is, at best, a fleeting thing, and the months and years are as passing seasons. Now these questions arise: “Is there any enduring meaning in my life? When I’ve done everything I’m supposed to do, will this guarantee that I’ll be in a satisfying relationship and a good job, and enjoying my life? If I’ve worked hard to achieve my goals, will this mean that I’ll finally be happy and fulfilled? I know so many people who, to the outside world, appear to be incredible successes. But they often tell me they feel so unsettled and so restless.

Some of them are even doing selfdestructive things. If all goes well when I graduate, I will still have more than two-thirds of my life to live. But I don’t ever want to be in a state of depression about opportunities lost. Where do I go from here?Will I be able to settle for less than I want, knowing that there are limits on my ambitions?”

Cycle Four: I’m becoming more, not less, cautious in my choices. During this cycle of meaning-making, quarterlifers start to realize that age, events, and added responsibilities are taking hold of them . . . almost by surprise. Often, when we listen to quarterlifers at this time of meaning-making, we are reminded of aWoody Allen line: “I’m not afraid of death. I just don’t want to be there when it happens.” Their self-talk covers more than just death, of course; it usually takes the following form: “Life is happening to me almost when I’m not even looking, and, lo and behold, I’m getting older.

Who I see in the mirror every morning is not who I used to see. Now what? I’ve still got so much left that I want to do, but I’m realizing that what I want to do might actually take more time than I will actually have. How can I avoid slipping into despair, frustration, and just plain exhaustion?
“Will people still love and respect me, even though I probably won’t be as active a risk-taker as I want to be? In my later years, what in the world will I have in common with people who are younger and more creative and vital than I am?Will I look too eccentric and settled to them, completely out of touch—the way that my parents and teachers look to me now? It won’t be long before I’m out in the world, hustling like everyone else, and I’m really afraid of losing my passion for life. I never want to compromise my integrity, or lose my sense of humor, or give up on my faith that there is some force greater than me in the universe.”

Cycle Five: I will choose my meanings to the best of my ability, and I will try not to live a life of regret or bitterness. In the fifth cycle, meaning-making becomes less concerned with the navel-gazing questions of self and more concerned with developing a generative, outward-facing philosophy. This cycle is less about resignation for quarterlifers than it is about authentic realization both in and out of community. Authenticity is the realization that we are the authors (each word has the same Greek word root—authentes—meaning “one who makes or originates something”) of our own lives. In some ways, this cycle is a restatement of Cycle One, only now it is grounded in a narrative of existential responsibility (response-ability—the ability to respond) to others as well as to self:
“Yes, it is true that I am the author of my own life, but there are limits. There is around me a circle beyond which I cannot pass, but within that circle I have tremendous freedom to make choices; choices that can be as satisfying, exhilarating, and life-expanding as any I’ve ever made. Only now I need to proceed more carefully,
not thinking only of myself but also being willing to respond to the needs of others. I am not a completely free agent, and I recognize now that there is a balance between freedom and responsibility. I live in a complex social network that imposes certain duties and obligations on me. Having said this, however, I also realize that this social network also confers a wonderful sense of freedom. I am not completely alone. I have others on whom I can rely to help me make wise and good choices.”
Read More : Cycles of Quarterlife Meaning-Making

Is the Quarterlife Generation Ready for Meaning-Making?

The following questions come up again and again during our many off-campus consultancies on the topic of meaningmaking:

• Can college students handle the intellectual complexities of meaning-making?
• Are they mature enough?
• Have they had enough life experience?
• Is the concept of meaning of equal interest to all students?
• Does meaning-making require a particular level of emotional and social intelligence?

In response to these questions, we start off this chapter by describing the mindset of the quarterlife generation. We emphasize the big and little meaning questions that the quarterlife generation is asking these days. Following this, we introduce a five-cycle sequence of quarterlife challenges around the issue of choice. Then
we introduce one young woman who has wrestled with some of the archetypal quarterlife questions to develop a path of meaning and purpose.

Quarterlife Challenges
Two of the leading writers on the quarterlife generation (Robbins& Wilner, 2001; Robbins, 2004) believe that this period of life spans the ages from twenty to thirty-five, with significant developmental overlaps for both late teens and pre-midlifers. Thus the quarterlife generation includes most undergraduates as well as most graduate students. Robbins and Wilner think of this period in the adult life narrative as a challenge for the following reasons:

• It is threatening for quarterlifers to face the world on their own, many for the first time, away from the securities of families of origin, earlier schooling, and, for older quarterlifers, familiar jobs, marriages, and surroundings. 
• Unprecedented competition for highly specialized jobs in the twenty-first-century world is fierce, and the resultant emotional stress can be devastating.
• The pressure to select the right colleges and universities, the right preprofessional major and minor fields of study, and the right graduate schools, professions, and occupations, in order to succeed later in the work world, can be nerve-racking.
• Friendships are, at best, tentative, and committed, intimate relationships are often put on hold, because so much of one’s future is up in the air.
• Quarterlife concerns about success and failure in a changing economy and in an increasingly specialized, technological job market induce intense anxiety, depression, eating disorders, drug abuse, and, in extreme cases, violence and suicide.
• “Do what you love, and love what you do” seems for many quarterlifers to be a near-impossibility, either in college or in the job market, because the expectations are so high to secure future jobs that will confer security, status, wealth, and power benefits.
• Credit card debt, school loans, and personal bankruptcies are out of control.

We prefer not to think of the quarterlife experience as a crisis but rather as a series of exciting, real-life possibilities for students to make meaning. Although it is true that some students do live their quarterlife years in a narrative of panic, stress, and insecurity, others live in very different narratives of meaning. Here are some big and little meaning questions (some of the questions, which we have reworded, come from Robbins, 2004) that all quarterlifers are asking, in one way or another, on our campuses, regardless of the particular narratives they may inhabit (note the similarities between these quarterlife questions and some of the existential questions about meaning typically associated with midlife):

• Hopes and Dreams—How do I find my passion? When do I let go of my dream? What if I don’t get what I want by a certain age? How do I start over, if I find I need to? When is the right time to make a commitment? Is it possible to have a fulfilling relationship and a fulfilling job at the same time? What if I make the wrong choice on either side?AmI stuck forever? 
• Educational Challenges—Am I studying what is right for me? Why do I have to be so preoccupied with gearing up for graduate school and a career when I’d just like to enjoy exploring the arts and humanities? How well am I handling the freedom of college and being away from home for the first time? Why does my college experience neglect all the really important questions that come up for me regarding my hopes and dreams for the future? 
• Religion and Spirituality—What is the right religion for me? Why am I so critical of my childhood religion? Why is it that a noninstitutional spirituality seems, at times, to be so powerful for me? Will my parents be disappointed if I don’t remain loyal to the religion of our family? Why does God seem so far away from me on some days and so close at other times? Can any good come from doubting? Do I need a religious faith to be a moral person? Can I be good without God? Is there any other way to make a meaning that is enduring without religion or spirituality? Why is it that so many of my college friends think of religion in such negative terms?Will I be able to make it in the world without experiencing the consolations of organized religion along with its supportive communities? In what religion will I bring up my children, if I have any?
• Work Life—Will I always have to choose between doing what I love or making lots of money?Will I ever really look forward to going off to work every day? Is it true that I’ll change careers many times before I retire? If, yes, then what’s the point of taking all this time to prepare for a particular career?Will I ever find work where I won’t feel such stress to produce all the time? Does my work always have to be so competitive and bottom-line? Is it possible to find a career that is congruent with my personal values?Will I eventually have to settle for a career driven by my obligation to pay off the tens of thousands of dollars that I will owe in student loans? What does “balance” look like when work and stress build up? Why is it that I feel I have so much potential, but I am afraid to actualize it? Why am I so haunted by self-doubt?
• Home, Friends, Lovers, and Family—Why is it so hard to live alone but also so hard to sustain a relationship? Is there really such a person as a “soul mate”? How will I know when I fall in love with “The One”? Am I loveable? How do I avoid feeling stuck in my relationships? Why can’t I find close, enduring friends who stay the course without drifting away? Is there something about me that causes this? Why is the thought of moving back in with my parents so terrible? Now that I’ve moved away, how do I make friends? Who will be my true friends, will I ever fit in, and how will I know who I can trust?
• Identity—Why is adulthood, at one and the same time, so threatening to me yet also so attractive? Why is it that I alternate between thinking that my life is either exciting or boring? How can I stop feeling overwhelmed about everything? Why do I worry so much about how I look? Why can’t I like who I am?Will I ever be truly happy with myself? Why do I feel so guilty when others claim I am privileged? Why is everyone so hung up on identity  politics? Aren’t we all human beings underneath our skin color, sexual orientation, neighborhoods, and private parts?

Many of these questions are part and parcel of life’s journey, no matter the journey-taker’s age or stage. Still, quarterlifers seem to be experiencing a deluge of doubt and possibility that is unique to that place between adolescence and adulthood. Books and internet resources (Robbins & Wilner, 2001; Robbins, 2004;Steinle, 2005) have been popping up to fill the void. Each of these resources affirms the questions of quarterlife and offers a most welcome comfort to the intended audience: “Quarterlifer, you are not alone!”

Notably, Robbins andWilner (2001) and Steinle (2005) chose to populate their guides to the quarterlife with the voices and circumstances of real quarterlifers. The young adults featured in these books discard the mask of self-assuredness to reveal the confusion and pain they sometimes experience in trying to find their way. They wonder how to lead a more fulfilling, less “empty” life than the one they know; they express their dismay at the realization that life is not always fair; and contrary to the Pew Research Center findings discussed in the preface, they want to know how to pursue a career that means something to them personally and will make a
positive difference in their communities.

Regardless of gender, race, or social class, the respondents for each text underscore how universal many of these questions of meaning are. Although their social identities may frame the context in which they seek clarity, these quarterlifers express the same basic frustrations, excitements, worries, and questions (and even the same answers), regardless of the part their social identities suggest they play in life. Each of them wonders, through their interviews and written responses, whether they will discover a meaning and purpose worth living (and even dying) for.
Read More : Is the Quarterlife Generation Ready for Meaning-Making?

Detrimental attitude or emotional state of student

Despite the factors within the school curriculum and teaching approach that can cause difficulties in learning, it seems that most teachers, psychologists and researchers still tend to focus almost exclusively on so-called ‘deficits’ or weaknesses within the child to account for learning problems. Even parents tend to assume immediately that there is something ‘wrong’ with their child if school progress is unsatisfactory.  So, it is necessary for us now to examine factors associated with the child that can also cause problems in learning.

Detrimental attitude or emotional state
Almost all children first enter school with a positive attitude. They are generally keen to take part in classroom activities and they expect to be successful when attempting everything the teacher asks them to do. However, it doesn’t take long for some children to experience failure or personal inadequacy. Perhaps something they try to do does not work out well – a drawing turns out badly and other children laugh at it; or when asked to write the numeral 12 on the board the child writes it as 21, again resulting in embarrassment.

The child is quick to realize that if he or she stops drawing pictures and avoids being called upon to write on the board, the chances of being ridiculed are greatly reduced. This is the beginning of the well-known ‘failure syndrome’ in which the child, through fear of getting something wrong, avoids participating fully in important learning activities, and thus begins to fall behind other children through passivity and lack of practice. Some children will try to protect their feeling of self-worth by refusing to attempt any task the teacher sets for them. They would rather be thought of as naughty and disobedient than run the risk of revealing that they can’t do the work.

The effect of failure on a child’s confidence and motivation can be devastating. It must be acknowledged that failure is not a pleasing experience, and given sufficient exposure to it almost any student will develop
avoidance strategies. From a child’s point of view, the basic message of the ‘failure syndrome’ is that, ‘If at first you don’t succeed, maybe you will never succeed’. The ‘failure syndrome’ probably accounts for many
instances of ongoing learning difficulties and avoidance behaviour across all school subjects. The effects of early failure are cumulative.

Constant failure can lead to the state called ‘learned helplessness’, in which the child comes to believe that he or she is incapable of succeeding with anything new the teacher introduces. The child cannot conceive of
being able to succeed through personal effort and has to rely instead on strong support from others. This encourages the child to become passive and dependent rather than active in learning situations. Learned helplessness greatly impairs motivation and participation.

Learning difficulties can also be caused if a child is distracted by anxiety about some aspect of family life, such as arguing between parents, fear of parental separation, illness or financial problems. Other worries may relate
to friendship difficulties within the peer group. This type of worrying or anxiety can prevent a child from concentrating in class.
Read More : Detrimental attitude or emotional state of student

What is The Roles of Research In Educational Psychology

Teachers who are intentional, critical thinkers are likely to enter their classrooms equipped with knowledge about research in educational psychology. Every year, educational psychologists discover or refine principles of teaching and learning that are useful for practicing teachers. Some of these principles are just common sense backed up with evidence, but others are more surprising. One problem educational psychologists face is that almost everyone thinks he or she is an expert on the subject of educational psychology. Most adults have spent many years in schools watching what teachers do. Add to that a certain amount of knowledge of human nature, and voila! Everyone is an amateur educational psychologist. For this reason, professional educational psychologists are often accused of studying the obvious (Gage, 1991).

However, as we have painfully learned, the obvious is not always true. For example, most people assume that if students are assigned to classes according to their ability, the resulting narrower range of abilities in a class will let the teacher adapt the instruction to the specific needs of the students and thereby increase student achievement. This assumption turns out to be false. Many teachers believe that scolding students for misbehavior will improve student behavior. Many students will indeed respond to a scolding by behaving better, but for others, scolding may be a reward for misbehavior and will actually increase it. Some "obvious" truths even conflict with one another.

For example, most people would agree that students learn better from a teacher's instruction than by working alone. This belief supports teacher-centered direct instructional strategies, in which a teacher actively works with the class as a whole. On the other hand, most people would also agree that students often need instruction tailored to their individual needs. This belief, also correct, would demand that teachers divide their time among individuals, or at least among groups of students with differing needs, which would result in some students working independently while others received the teacher's attention.

If schools could provide tutors for every student, there would be no conflict; direct instruction and individualization could coexist. In practice, however, classrooms typically have 20 or more students; as a result, more direct instruction (the first goal) almost always means less indvidualization (the second goal). The intentional teacher's task is to balance these competing goals according to the needs of particular students and situations.

The Goal of Research in Educational Psychology
The goal of research in educational psychology is to carefully examine obvious as well as less than obvious questions, using objective methods to test ideas about the factors that contribute to learning (Levin, O'Donnell, & ICratochwill, 2003; McCombs, 2003). The products of this research are principles, laws, and theories. A principle explains the relationship between factors, such as the effects of alternative grading systems on student motivation. Laws are simply principles that have been thoroughly tested and found to apply in a wide variety of situations.

A theory is a set of related principles and laws that explains a broad aspect of learning, behavior, or another area of interest. Without theories the facts and principles that are dscovered would be like disorganized specks on a canvas. Theories tie together these facts and principles to give us the big picture. However, the same facts and principles may be interpreted in dfferent ways by dfferent theorists. As in any science, progress in educational psychology is slow and uneven. A single study is rarely a breakthrough, but over time evidence accumulates on a subject and allows theorists to refine and extend their theories.


The Value of Research in Educational Psychology to the Teacher
It is probably true that the most important things teachers learn, they learn on the job-in internships, while student teaching, or during their first years in the classroom (Darling-Hammond, Gendler, & Wise, 1990). However, teachers make hundreds of decisions every day, and each decision has a theory behind it, whether or not the teacher is aware of it. The quality, accuracy, and useless of those theories are what ultimately determine the teacher's success. For example, one teacher may offer a prize to the student with the best attendance, on the theory that rewarding attendance will increase it. Another may reward the student whose attendance is most improved, on the theory that it is poor attenders who most need incentives to come to class. A third may not reward anyone for attendance but may try to increase attendance by teaching
more interesting lessons. Which teacher's plan is most likely to succeed? This depends in large part on the ability of each teacher to understand the unique combination of factors that shape the character of her or his classroom and therefore to apply the most appropriate theory.
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