LABOPHOBIA

In college I took a class called Microprocessor Systems. Throughout the quarter I was getting A's on all my tests and churned out homework like a man possessed, but then came finals week. My instructor, Mr. Blaze, was a very serious man. When he explained the details of our final exam I realized I was going to hate that last week of school like no other.

We were to design and construct in the electronics lab a fully functional set of taillights for a Ford Thunderbird, utilizing the microprocessors and other devices we had studied during that particular quarter. Instantly, murmurs of "Oh cool!" and "This'll be fun!" filled the air, but none of those testaments of glee were mine. I always did well in the textbook aspect of the class but handling the actual components, wiring them up, and making them do what my written equations said they could do was an entirely different matter. Inside I felt the pang of nervousness begin to rear its ugly head. When Mr. Blaze added that we would be doing these labs in teams of three and each team member had to explain how the design worked, that pang became something that felt like a brick lodged in my intestines.

Soon I was sitting at a table in the lab with the two students I had been assigned to work with: Jim Shepard and Robert Black. They were complete strangers to me but were very personable. We talked about sports, laughed about life, but then Jim and Robert began discussing the T-Bird taillights. That brick began to kick at my innards again but when Jim walked away for a minute, Robert revealed to me his mutual ignorance.

"I had no idea what I was saying to him," he said to me. "Could you tell?"

"Excuse me?" I replied.

"Look," said Robert, pulling me aside, "I may do well in class but this lab stuff is a real bummer for me."

My eyes widened. Here was a guy that was in the same boat as I. When I explained that to him, we both laughed in relief but then we wondered: What about Jim? Is he as inept in lab as us?

He wasn't. Jim had no problem taking the initiative to design the taillights and wiring it up as well. That was OK for a while, but then Robert and I began to feel ashamed of ourselves. As other teams functioned like well-oiled machines, Robert and I simply stood huddled around Jim, trying to make it look as though we knew what was going on as he constructed our project. Jim was no dummy, though: He understood all this but he never once acted like he cared. That was fortunate.

On the last day of lab, Robert and I watched as Mr. Blaze walked from team to team, asking how it was going. Terrified that our cover would be blown, Robert inched closer to Jim.

"Hey Jim, is there anything you want us to do?"

"Well," he replied, "I kinda need this timer circuit wired up."

The timer circuit involved constructing a simple RC (resistor-capacitor) interface, something we had learned to do four quarters ago. This was the easiest part of the design and it was something we could handle. Minutes later Mr. Blaze arrived and asked what I was doing, just as I punched in some final numbers on my calculator to determine what size capacitor I needed.

"Constructing the RC circuit," I replied.

"Oh yeah?" Mr. Blaze asked. "For what?"

"It's a peripheral device to fit with what Jim's working on."

"And what's Jim working on?" Mr. Blaze asked, raising an eyebrow and I wondered if he was secretly having fun.

Why don't you ask him Smarty Pants? I thought, but then Jim spoke up and in minutes he explained to Mr. Blaze the basics of the taillight design. Appearing satisfied, Mr. Blaze walked away. The following night, however, Robert and I knew we wouldn't get as lucky.

I went through the next morning in a daze, only realizing I was at school once my car was parked in the lot and the engine wasn't running anymore. I met Robert and Jim in the lab and we unveiled our creation.

When Mr. Blaze made his entrance, Robert and I turned to look at one another. We did not smile. Our terror increased when Mr. Blaze interrogated the first team and tore into the students when they couldn't explain how their design worked.

Robert suddenly stood up and said, "I need to get some air."

Not hesitating, I followed him outside.

We paced nervously about the parking lot, putting our hands in our pockets and then taking them back out over and over again. I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience.

"This is not fun at all," I said.

"I know," replied Robert. "Right now would be a good time for Armageddon."

"I still have my appendix," I added. "I really wouldn't mind if it burst right now."

"I could drive you to the hospital!"

"And with any luck we'll get in an accident on the way!"

We both laughed but knew that just getting in an accident wouldn't do any good unless it killed us. Otherwise, we would heal and have to come back here to complete this assignment.

"You guys ready?" Robert and I turned and saw Jim standing behind us. "Mr. Blaze told me to come get you. It's time."

I imagined a black-hooded executioner speaking those last two words and that made me laugh again.

Soon we were all back in the lab. Mr. Blaze was standing there, eyeing us over and waiting. To my relief, Jim immediately began demonstrating how the taillights worked. As he continued showcasing the design I waited for Mr. Blaze to say to me: "Jim has shown me enough. Why don't you finish up now?"

To my utter astonishment, Jim finished speaking and Mr. Blaze walked on to the next team.

Robert and I looked at one another, both our expressions wondering Is that it?

It was. Grins of relief spread across our faces but we quickly forced them away. We didn't want to look suspicious.

The next day Mr. Blaze spoke with each team separately. He gave us an A. He felt that the work we did in class showed him that we knew our stuff and that's why he didn't ask us all to explain the project. I was in shock.

After the meeting, I confronted Jim.

"Could you explain something to me?"

"Sure," he replied. "What?"

"How the taillights work. I feel terrible that you did all the work and . . ."

Jim held up his hand, indicating for me to be silent. He smiled then led me back to our final project. Fifteen minutes later I understood it all and wished I hadn't been so scared to ask sooner.

I haven't seen Jim since, which is a shame. His friendly manner allowed me to swallow some pride and ask for advice when I needed to. That lesson, by far, was the most valuable I ever learned in college.

THE END

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