The Dawn of Psychology, In My First Grade Class

by Thomas M. Pender

I’m not sure how or when it started, this ability to involuntarily study my fellow human beings as I go about my business.  Since a time I can’t recall (and perhaps, I suppose, since birth), I have watched the actions and reactions of people around me, and compiled patterns of behavior.  It only occurred to me in my late teens or early twenties that I could say or do specific things in order to get specific reactions from specific people.  When this did occur to me, I became very curious about the origin of this skill/talent/curse.  I still have no answers as to the beginning of this phenomenon, but I recently recalled at least a very early anecdotal sign that I was learning how to use it to my advantage.

The game was called “Seven-Up.”  I was six.

The rules were fairly simple.  Our teacher would pick seven students, who went up to stand at the chalkboard.  The rest of the class would then put their heads down and close their eyes.  The chosen seven would wander out into the columns of desks, and each would touch one student on the head or arm, then return to the front of the class.  Those who were touched would stick their thumbs up in the air.  When the teacher counted seven thumbs and the original set of chosen students were back up in front of the class, she would give the okay.  The students would then sit up and open their eyes, and the seven who were touched would stand.  One by one, each would guess who touched them.  If the student guessed right, they would replace that person at the front.  If they guessed wrong, they would sit back down.  After all seven guesses, the heads went back down for another round.

At an indistinct point in my first grade career, I became an expert at this game.  Not only could I easily pick out which student touched my arm, but I could arrange to be the least likely chosen by the students I tapped.  I slowly and subtly noticed that the other six- and seven-year-olds had tendencies to stand against the board at the head of the same row they picked someone, and to look anxiously at their target while he or she was deciding.  Once this mystically occurred to me, it was a piece of cake to determine who touched me.  Once up at the board and a player, I altered my behavior very simply: I would pick a student on one extreme end of the class, but stand at the opposite extreme end of the board; and while my target was trying to find me, I would casually look away from them and look bored, as if his or her choice didn’t concern me.

I can’t say I was never chosen, but I bet for the rest of that year and the following few years we played the game in class, I wasn’t found out more than one or two times a year.  At the time, I had no idea that I was delving into the complex field of psychology.  I was just playing the game to the best of my ability.  Only decades later did I realize that I had, in fact, studied a set group of subjects, notated patterns of behavior, developed theories of behavior based on these notes, then tested my theories within the study group, to be rewarded with the predicted behaviors.

I’m not even a man of science, but I think this certainly warrants at least a Master’s in Psychology.  I’d even take one that was written out by a six-year-old in Crayon!