Practice English Reading Exercises for B2 – Psychological Studies & Human Behavior 5

Exercises:   123456

Reading 1

You are going to read an article about four individuals describing how understanding ‘Classical Conditioning’ helped them break a terrible habit of reaching for their phone every time it buzzed.

For questions 1-10, choose from the people/sections (A-D). The people/sections may be chosen more than once.

Which person/section

1   experienced a period of unease when they initially altered their routine?

2   deliberately substituted their device-checking reflex with a beneficial physical action?

3   recognised a parallel between their own involuntary behaviour and a well-known scientific study?

4   restricted their alerts exclusively to urgent or essential communications?

5   accepts that their new approach has caused some frustration among their acquaintances?

6   felt compelled to be constantly reachable due to the demands of their job?

7   physically separated themselves from their device during a specific time of day?

8   found that their capacity to focus on educational tasks was greatly enhanced?

9   attempted a more drastic measure to disconnect but found it unmanageable?

10   changed the auditory signal of their device to something less panic-inducing?

Breaking the Buzz: Escaping the Smartphone Trap

A Tom

It wasn’t until I read an article on classical conditioning that the penny finally dropped. I realised my reaction to my phone’s vibration was virtually identical to Pavlov’s dogs salivating at the sound of a bell. Whenever it buzzed, my hand would automatically dart into my pocket, even if I was engaged in a serious conversation. In my line of work, there’s an unspoken expectation from colleagues that you will reply to messages instantaneously, which only fuelled my compulsion. To break the cycle, I knew I had to deconstruct the trigger. I started by altering the default alert. Instead of that harsh, demanding vibration that consistently triggered a spike in my heart rate, I switched it to a very soft, gentle chime. I also disabled the buzz entirely. It was a remarkably simple tweak, but removing that aggressive physical sensation meant I no longer felt the overwhelming, panic-driven urge to drop everything and check my screen.

B Sarah

For me, the conditioning was deeply tied to my environment. I had unconsciously formed a habit where sitting on the living room sofa after a long day meant mindlessly scrolling through social media feeds. The moment my phone buzzed against the coffee table, I was entirely powerless to ignore it. Understanding this psychological link was a massive breakthrough. I decided to manipulate my environment by establishing a strict boundary: my phone was banished to the kitchen counter from six o’clock onwards. I won’t lie; those first few evenings were incredibly tough. I felt a constant, gnawing sense of anxiety, like I was missing out on something vital, and my brain practically begged me to go and check my notifications. However, pushing through that initial withdrawal phase was undeniably worth it. Eventually, the association between relaxing in the lounge and checking my screen faded away completely. Now, my evenings are genuinely restful, and those phantom vibrations are a thing of the past.

C Mark

I read that you can’t simply erase a conditioned response; you have to overwrite it with a new one. I initially tried to go cold turkey by switching my handset off completely during the day, but that proved completely impractical for staying in touch with my family. Consequently, I opted for counter-conditioning instead. I made a strict rule: every time my phone vibrated, instead of unlocking the screen, I had to take a large sip of water and do a quick shoulder stretch. At first, it felt utterly ridiculous. My brain desperately wanted the digital reward of a message, and I was giving it hydration instead! Remarkably, after a few weeks, the buzz stopped being a command to look at a screen and became a healthy cue to pause and stretch. A few of my mates grumbled about my sluggish reply times, complaining that I was ignoring them. I just had to accept their irritation as a small price to pay for my sanity.

D Emma

My phone had essentially trained me to expect a dopamine hit every time it made a sound. I was practically jumping out of my skin whenever a social media alert popped up, instantly hoping for a ‘like’ or a positive comment. It was severely affecting my concentration, especially when I was trying to get through my heavy university reading list. Once I understood the mechanism behind classical conditioning, I decided to permanently break the link between the noise and the superficial reward. I went into my settings and ruthlessly silenced every single application except for actual phone calls. I knew that if the handset rang, it was either my parents or a genuine emergency, rather than a pointless app update. Decoupling the buzz from social media validation was a complete game-changer. Without the constant interruptions, my ability to focus on my assignments improved drastically. I no longer feel like a puppet responding to a digital master.

Reading 2

You are going to read an article about four students sharing their fascination with the ‘Mandela Effect’ after discovering that a vivid childhood memory they all shared never actually happened.

For questions 1-10, choose from the people/sections (A-D). The people/sections may be chosen more than once.

Which person/section

1   points out how conversations with others can influence our personal recollections?

2   experiences a lingering sense of doubt regarding the accuracy of their own mind?

3   dedicated a considerable amount of time to hunting for proof of the event?

4   consulted an academic expert to make sense of the bizarre situation?

5   admits that the disagreement briefly created tension within the friendship group?

6   initially suspected that the media had been purposefully taken offline?

7   explains that the human mind naturally invents details to complete a picture?

8   felt genuinely unnerved upon realising their cherished memory was entirely fictitious?

9   brought up the subject after trying to casually revisit the childhood show?

10   acknowledges that accepting their own mistake was a hard truth to face?

The Memory Illusion: Experiencing the Mandela Effect

A Tom

We were chatting about our favourite childhood shows when I casually mentioned Professor Proton. I’d been feeling nostalgic and tried looking up the classic ‘Mars Landing’ episode on video platforms, but it was nowhere to be found. I brought this up with my flatmates, expecting them to know where to locate it. We all vividly recalled the purple alien sidekick. When the search yielded nothing, I was absolutely convinced the studio had wiped it from the web due to copyright issues. I spent the best part of a week scrolling through obscure forums and messaging collectors, determined to get to the bottom of it. I refused to throw in the towel. It wasn’t until I stumbled across an interview with the show’s creator, who explicitly stated the episode never existed, that I realised we were experiencing the Mandela Effect. It blew my mind that we had all fabricated the exact same storyline.

B Sara

As a science student, discovering that our shared memory was a total fabrication completely threw me. How could four people independently remember a purple alien that never was? Determined to figure it out, I arranged a meeting with my cognitive psychology lecturer. She explained that human memory isn’t like a video recording; it’s highly reconstructive. Apparently, when our brains retrieve an old event, they instinctively patch together fragments and invent elements to make a complete narrative. Over time, because we consumed so much sci-fi media growing up, our minds just blended Professor Proton with another space show. Although it was slightly unsettling to realise my brain was playing tricks on me, my primary reaction was intense curiosity rather than anxiety. I spent hours reading up on her recommended articles, though I deliberately avoided going down the internet rabbit hole trying to find the nonexistent footage itself.

C Leo

When Tom told us the ‘Mars Landing’ episode was a myth, I flat-out refused to believe him. I distinctly remembered the alien’s funny catchphrase! I’m generally quite a stubborn person, and backing down to admit my memory was fundamentally flawed was a bitter pill to swallow. The debate actually got quite heated; we spent an entire evening bickering over specific scenes, which definitely caused some friction among us. Looking back, it’s astonishing to see the power of suggestion in action. The more we argued and swapped ‘details’ about the episode, the more convinced we all became that it was real. By passionately defending our shared delusion, we were unknowingly planting false images in each other’s heads. I’ve since realised that peer influence doesn’t just affect our present behaviour; it can literally alter the way we reconstruct our past. It took a massive effort to finally concede I was wrong.

D Maya

Finding out about the Mandela Effect was a real eye-opener, but honestly, it left me feeling incredibly rattled. While the others were fascinated by the science or busy debating the logistics of the cartoon, I couldn’t shake off a deep sense of unease. It’s a terrifying prospect when you realise you can’t even trust your own experiences. If a memory so vivid and detailed turned out to be completely made up, what else have I gotten wrong? Ever since we uncovered the truth, I’ve found myself second-guessing other childhood milestones. I recently had to call my mum to verify if a family holiday to Cornwall actually happened the way I remembered it! I know it sounds dramatic, and I certainly didn’t fall out with my friends over the disagreement, but the realisation has fundamentally shaken my confidence in my own cognitive reliability. It’s hard to come to terms with the fact that my memory is so fallible.

Exercises:   123456