Children of the same age vary greatly in their propensity to help, share with, and comfort others. Thinking about the infants, toddlers, and children in your life (i.e. children of family, friends, neighbors, etc.), have you observed some children who are more likely to show prosocial behavior than others? Give examples of situations that are typical of the children’s responses to others. Speculate about aspects of the children’s environments, what might contribute to these individual differences? Do the children’s sex, cultural backgrounds, cognitive skills, or temperaments appear to be linked to their level of prosocial behavior? If so, how might these factors affect the socialization they have received?
What Life Means to Me GuidesorSubmit my paper for examination This is an article composed by Jack London in 1905, with some minor changes. Youthful Jack LondonI was conceived in the average workers. Early I found energy, aspiration, and beliefs, and to fulfill these turned into the issue of my kid life. My condition was unrefined, harsh, and crude. I had no standpoint, yet an uplook rather. My place in the public eye was at the base. Here life offered only corruption and wretchedness, both of the fragile living creature and the soul, for here fragile living creature and soul were similar: starved and tormented. Above me transcend the epic structure of society, and to my brain the main way out was up. Into this building I early made plans to climb. Up above, men wore dark garments and bubbled shirts, and ladies wearing lovely outfits. Likewise, there were beneficial things to eat, and there was bounty to eat. This much for the tissue. At that point there were the things of the soul. Up above me, I knew, were unselfishnesses of the soul, spotless and honorable reasoning, sharp educated living. I knew this since I read "Ocean side Library" books, in which, except for the reprobates and adventuresses, all people thought lovely contemplations, talked an excellent tongue, and performed sublime deeds. To put it plainly, as I acknowledged the ascending of the sun, I acknowledged that up above me was such was fine and honorable and benevolent, all that gave fairness and poise to life, all that made life worth living and that compensated one for travail and wretchedness. Be that as it may, it isn't especially simple for one to move up out of the common laborers—particularly in the event that the person in question is impaired by the ownership of goals and dreams. I lived on a farm in California, and I was hard put to discover the stepping stool whereby to climb. I early asked the pace of enthusiasm on put away cash, and stressed my kid's cerebrum into a comprehension of the ideals and excellencies of that exceptional development of mankind, self multiplying dividends. Further, I learned the present paces of wages for laborers everything being equal, and the typical cost for basic items. From this information, I reasoned that in the event that I started quickly and worked and spared until I was fifty years old, I could then quit working and go into interest in a reasonable segment of the pleasures and goodness that would then be available to me higher up in the public arena. Obviously, I unfalteringly decided not to wed, while I very neglected to consider at such extraordinary stone of catastrophe in the common laborers world—disorder. In any case, the existence that was in me requested in excess of a small presence of scratching and rationing. Likewise, at ten years old, I turned into a newsy in the city of a city, and ended up with a changed uplook. About me were as yet a similar shamefulness and wretchedness, and up above me was as yet a similar heaven standing by to be picked up—however the stepping stool whereby to climb was an alternate one. It was presently the stepping stool of business. Why spare my income and put resources into government bonds, when, by purchasing two papers for five pennies, with a turn of the wrist I could sell them for ten pennies and twofold my capital? The business stepping stool was the stepping stool for me, and I had a dream of myself turning into an uncovered headed and fruitful dealer sovereign. Too bad for dreams! At the point when I was sixteen, I had earned the title of "ruler." But this title was given me by a posse of cut-throats and cheats, by whom I was designated "The Prince of the Oyster Pirates." And around then, I had ascended the primary bar of the business stepping stool. I was an entrepreneur. I claimed a vessel and a total clam pilfering outfit. I had started to abuse my kindred animals. I had a team of one man. As commander and proprietor I took 66% of the crown jewels, and gave the team 33%, however the group worked similarly as hard as I did and gambled the same amount of its life and freedom. This one bar was the tallness I moved up the business stepping stool. One night, I went on a strike among Chinese anglers. Ropes and nets were worth dollars and pennies. It was theft, I award, yet it was decisively the soul of free enterprise. The industrialist removes the assets of their kindred animals by methods for a discount, or of a treachery of trust, or by the acquisition of congresspersons and preeminent court judges. I was only unrefined. That was the main distinction. I utilized a weapon. In any case, my team that night was one of those inefficients against whom the entrepreneur is wont to blast, in light of the fact that, forsooth, such inefficients increment costs and decrease profits. My team did both. What of his lack of regard he put a match to the enormous mainsail and completely crushed it. There were no profits that night, and the Chinese anglers were more extravagant by the nets and ropes we didn't get. I was bankrupt, incapable at that point to pay sixty-five dollars for another mainsail. I left my vessel at grapple and went off on an inlet privateer pontoon on an assault up the Sacramento River. While away on this excursion, another posse of straight privateers struck my vessel. They took everything, even the stays; and later on, when I recouped the floating mass, I sold it for twenty dollars. I had slipped back the one bar I had ascended, and never again did I endeavor the business stepping stool. From that point on, I was brutally misused by different industrialists. I had the muscle, and they brought in cash out of it while I made yet a detached living out of it. I was a mariner before the pole, a longshoreman, a worker; I worked in canneries, production lines, and laundries; I cut gardens, and cleaned covers, and washed windows. What's more, I never got the full result of my work. I took a gander at the girl of the cannery proprietor, in her carriage, and realized that it was my muscle, to some extent, that helped haul along that carriage on its elastic tires. I took a gander at the child of the industrial facility proprietor, heading off to college, and realized that it was my muscle that helped, partially, to pay for the wine and great partnership he delighted in. In any case, I didn't hate this. It was all in the game. They were the solid. Great, I was solid. I would cut my way to a spot among them and bring in cash out of the muscles of other men. I was not scared of work. I cherished difficult work. I would contribute and work more diligently than at any other time and inevitably become a mainstay of society. What's more, only at that point, as it would turn out, I found a business that was of a similar psyche. I was eager to work, and he was more than willing that I should work. I thought I was learning an exchange. In all actuality, I had uprooted two men. I thought he was making a circuit tester out of me; indeed, he was making fifty dollars for every month out of me. The two men I had uprooted had gotten forty dollars each every month; I was accomplishing crafted by both for thirty dollars for each month. This business worked me about to death. A man may adore shellfish, yet such a large number of clams will dissuade him toward that specific eating routine. Thus with me. A lot of work sickened me. I didn't wish ever to see work again. I fled from work. I turned into a tramp, asking my way from entryway to entryway, meandering over the United States and perspiring wicked sweats in ghettos and detainment facilities. I had been conceived in the average workers, and I was currently, at eighteen years old, underneath where I had begun. I was down in the basement of society, down in the underground profundities of wretchedness about which it is neither decent nor legitimate to talk. I was in the pit, the pit, the human cesspool, the ruins and the charnel-place of our progress. This is the piece of the structure of society that society decides to disregard. Absence of room urges me here to disregard it, and I will say just that the things I saw there gave me a horrible alarm. I was terrified into speculation. I saw the bare simplicities of the muddled human advancement where I lived. Life involved nourishment and sanctuary. So as to get nourishment and asylum, individuals sold things. The dealer sold shoes, the government official sold his masculinity, and the delegate of the individuals, with special cases, obviously, sold his trust—while about completely sold their respect. Ladies whether in the city or in the heavenly obligation of wedlock, were inclined to sell their tissue. All things were wares, all individuals purchased and sold. The one product that work needed to sell was muscle. The respect of work had no cost in the commercial center. Work had muscle, and muscle alone, to sell. In any case, there was a distinction, an imperative contrast. Shoes and trust and respect had a method for reestablishing themselves. They were long-lasting stocks. Muscle, then again, didn't recharge. As the shoe dealer sold shoes, he kept on recharging his stock. Be that as it may, there was no chance to get of recharging the worker's load of muscle. The more he sold of his muscle, the less of it stayed to him. It was his one item, and every day his load of it lessened. At last, in the event that he didn't kick the bucket previously, he sold out and set up his screens. He was a muscle bankrupt, and nothing stayed to him however to go down into the basement of society and die wretchedly. I learned, further, that the cerebrum was similarly a product. It, as well, was not quite the same as muscle. A cerebrum vender was distinctly at his prime when he was fifty or sixty years of age, and his products were getting more significant expenses than at any other time. In any case, a worker was worked out or separated at forty-five or fifty. I had been in the basement of society, and I didn't care for the spot as a residence. The channels and depletes were unsanitary, and the air was awful to relax. On the off chance that I was unable to live on the parlor floor of society, I could, at any rate, have an attempt at the storage room. It was valid, the eating routine there was thin, however the air at any rate was unadulterated. Along these lines, I set out to sell no more muscle, and to turn into a seller of minds. At that point started a wild quest for information. I came back to California and opened the books. While in this manner preparing myself to turn into a cerebrum dealer, it was inescapable that I ought to dive into human science. There I found, in a specific class of books, experimentally figured, the basic sociological ideas I had just worked out for myself. Other and more prominent personalities b>GET ANSWER