Sitting in class, my hands are sweating. Am I in a good seat? Will the professor like me? I hope I’m not in anybody's way. The door opens. In comes a tall, well-groomed man; he is dressed with a nice polo and a pressed pair of khakis. He sets his bag down, grabs his glasses, and hold up the sheet to call roll. “Oh man, I hope he says my name right.”

These were the various thoughts blowing through my mind my first day in college. Not only was I a freshman, but I was a freshman that didn’t want to stand out. In fact, I wanted to blend in so much that the questions were absent, and the eye contact was minimal. This isn’t like me at all. In fact, I am so outgoing that I am known to light up a room; but this was different.

I was in a new town, a new environment, and I was the underdog. I wanted to be successful so bad, that my hopes of impressing the professor were blindsided by the intimidating stature of college itself. College is the last step before the real world. Here, I will find what I will do the rest of my life. I will gain skills and knowledge to eventually become a young leader of my generation. However, this is down the road, yet. At this moment, I am still anticipating the wrong pronunciation of my own name.

Just looking at my professor, I start to feel small. Here, standing in front of me, is one of many intelligent idols on campus. These people have not only passed through a decade or more of college, but they have done it so effectively, that they are allowed to teach us their ways. Some are keepers of their own research, and some are authors of books. With such success, I can’t help but to be nervous.

The Professor is inching closer down the list to my name. I already have a knot in my throat. Should I make eye contact? Should I just raise my hand? I find myself rehearsing the tone, the excitement, the complete redundance of the word ‘here’. Not too loud, not too fast. Don’t jump the gun, just act normal. As the professor reads my name, I look up to him one more time. As my mouth forms the word ‘here’, I can’t help but notice a small but brightly colored stain blatantly above his shirt pocket. It was at this moment in college that I began to relax.The professor, although highly respected, was just like me. His intentions are none other than to help in the progress of my own personal success rather than my failures. An idea formed by many college movies was shattered by the stain on his shirt. A stain that verified the common ground of students and professors. We may be different on education levels, but we are all humans working to the ultimate goal.There were no more butterflies in my stomach. Instead, I was calm and determined to make my way through college with a bang. Who would have thought the intimidation factor would be diminished by something as small and simple as a stain. The tone of his voice was softer, the criteria for his class was less harsh, and it all was based on the nerves I had coming into this new environment. There might be other moments in college that show you the bigger picture, but mine just happened to be based off the stain on my professor's shirt.