Sometimes I wonder if there is something wrong with me. Last night was one of those times. After barely surviving four years of being made to feel like I knew nothing and I didn't have a prayer of getting a job and making it in the real world, I went back for more. That's right. Last night I returned to the School of Engineering at Grove City College. When I received the invitation to go and critique a design project similar to one I had worked on a few years ago, I accepted, thinking it sounded like fun. But as I began to think about it all the old college insecurities began to set in: Do I really know enough about the subject to be of any help? Will I be able to come up with any insightful comments or questions? But I went anyway, determined to show my professors that I wasn't the idiot they seemed to think I was. After all, I've been working as an engineer for more than two years now, which is more work experience than some of them have ever had. So I went with a friend and collegue of mine and I'm glad I didn't go alone. Even as I walked in the room and saw my professors, I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I struggled to keep my voice from wavering as I addressed the students and fumbled to find something interesting and intelligent to say about my job and my work. I listened to the students' presentation with all the attentiveness I would have poured into an applied fluid dynamics class, but still felt in over my head. After the presentation was over, I looked at my notes. "Ergonomics?" "More detailed pricing." "Show progress toward achieving design goals." "I have no idea what this kid is talking about." "sarasarasarasarasara" Pitiful. I had nothing to say about the design and the few comments I had seemed trivial and useless. I was certain that if I tried to say anything, Dr._____ would give me that look that said, "I can't believe I allowed you to graduate." My friend Cherie indicated to me that she couldn't come up with anything either. She was as paralyzed by insecurity as I. Two graduate engineers, both coordinating construction projects costing hundreds of millions of dollars, and we were both frozen with fear of these little men who spend their days sitting alone in labs, daydreaming about the physical sciences. Finally my friend blurted out some comments and I gravely nodded in agreement, then repeated her in almost exactly the same words. Then the students began to question us about our project a few years back, "What forces did you use for impact loading?" "Where did you find your master cylinder?" "What did you think of your suspension performance?" Question after question we pulled answers out of our butts trying to pacify them so we could escape the critical eyes of the professors. And finally we did with little more than a handshake and a "thank you". And with that we left, laughing at our foolishness all the way home, amused with our own irrational fears.