I'm cool. And I'm going to tell you why I'm cool too. I'm cool because Ki-Jana Carter has used my printer.

Maybe I was at Pollock Library studying for a final exam while he was there, but the fact that one of my fraternity brothers brought Ki-Jana to my room to print out their group project is the most exciting thing that has happened to me since my bar mitzvah.

Not only did one of Penn State's most prolific athletes who is sure to be a top-five NFL draft pick to use my printer, but he also sat in my chair. I might be jealous of my roommate who actually had a conversation with Ki-Jana, and I might have missed the chance to ask him to autograph his picture in my Sports Illustrated. But none of that matters when I remind myself that a guy who I have idolized for two years put his butt where I put mine every day.

I should also tell you that I'm cool because I shook Joe Paterno's hand last year. To put the icing on the cake I spoke to John Amaechi earlier this week.

Now I'm sure that nearly every person on this campus has a story about how they were cool and met one of our University's athletic heroes. All of this coolness that is going around has prompted me to ask a few questions.

Why is it that when my girlfriend told me she talked to Kerry Collins one day I shrugged it off as a regular occurrence (sorry Jul), but when Ki-Jana was in my room that same night I called my parents and told the story to everyone I saw for the next two weeks?

Why is it that my "conversation" with John Amaechi consisted only of a barely audible "excuse me" when I tried to exit through a door that was filled with his massive frame?

Why is it that when I shook JoePa's hand I couldn't take my eyes off the floor and hoped against hope that he wouldn't notice how sweaty my palms were?

Why is it that I, along with the majority of this campus, idolize a couple of kids who are the same age as us? Why do we treat a senior citizen from Brooklyn as a god? After all, they're just humans.

Throughout the 1990s Americans have been searching without success for role models. Charles Barkley doesn't want the responsibility. The casts of 90210 and Melrose are too fake. President Clinton can't make a decision to save his life. Newt Gingrich --naaah.

After my first year and a half here I am suggesting that America needs to look no farther than Happy Valley, Pa. for its role models. Despite the problems at Penn State -- the domination by big corporations, stifling bureaucracy and an undergraduate education that sucks for the average student -- this University is home to some remarkable humans who actually fit the mold of role models.

And the thing that I find most special about Ki-Jana, John and JoePa is that even though what they do inside the white lines is of the supernatural, they never let me forget that they are human.

I was touched when Ki-Jana kissed his mother before every game. I cheered wildly after he hugged his linemen after each of his numerous touchdowns. And I felt a lump in my throat when I watched him break down at his news conference to announce he was going pro.

I look at John Amaechi with amazement at the fact that he won the 1994-95 Anson Mount Scholar/Athlete Award. And I wonder how he was able to withstand the pain of his mother's fatal bout with cancer, yet still play on.

I laugh hysterically when I recall the story about SuePa telling JoePa to roll up his pants so they don't get dirty. And a tear comes to my eye when I think about him crying after his players presented him with a game ball after the Rose Bowl.

Call me a sap if you will, but I think the most remarkable think about these people who I look up to is that I can truly relate to their emotions. To me they are true role models.

Even though I was too shy to talk to John Amaechi or JoePa and even though I missed the chance to hang with Ki-Jana, I still feel pretty cool. And that's because I know the people who I respect truly deserve and appreciate the praise they receive.