Mentoring

Every Friday when I arrive at school, the cafeteria at Harrison elementary is buzzing with a chatter of a hundred third and fourth graders. It takes a few seconds for the boys I mentor to acknowledge my presence, to interrupt the flow of their day. But soon they’re ready to go, ready to be special because they can take an hour or so out of the routine of school.

If their school work isn’t finished, I'll help with that, or we'll play an educational card game, or we may join another group for a little football or basketball. Some kids talk incessantly, others prefer not to talk much at all. Although it takes some getting used to, that’s their prerogative.

When I first began mentoring I assumed my main role would be to act as a sounding board, but it took only a couple of sessions for the teacher to set me straight on that. What these kids need most, she said, is simply a kind, stable adult who will show an interest in them and expect them to do their best.

In some homes, examples of such role models are scarce. I asked one teacher which of her kids most needed mentors. Many Harrison students are from low-income or migrant families and she began at the first row and by the time she finished she had pointed to more than half the class, briefly describing how many children are living under the weight of a broken or abusive home, or crushing poverty, or language difficulties.

When I first began mentoring four years ago I doubted I could make any difference in these young lives, given the one or two hours a week we'd have, and the knowledge that my involvement wouldn’t see them in the even more treacherous years of adolescence.

I wondered if I weren’t doing more harm than good by entering their lives so briefly.

The first teacher I worked with enlightened me. Each of us-- teachers included--has too little time for any one child, she said, but everyone can recall a few encouraging words or a compliment or a mild correction that made a difference to us at a critical time in our lives.

Each of us have had words that we just had to get out, or we'd burst from holding them back. Or maybe there was a time when all we need was an hour in the presence of someone who made us feel unique and appreciated. The trick life plays on us is you never know when that opening will come. Having a mentor available, even for a short time, vastly increases the chance that those words will be said and heard, that presence felt.

For kids who can’t verbalize the pain and disappointment other adults have brought to the lives, mentors provide proof that the world isn’t entirely against them. That thought alone can bring a surprising amount of light to dark view of the world.

There are no monetary reward for mentoring, but after I visit the school I find I take the material comforts of my own life less for granted, and speak more openly and lovingly to my own family.

Our children seem to go astray by twos and fours and fives but they only right themselves one by one. And they need help. That’s a lesson well worth an hour or two out of anyone’s week.

I only mentored for a few years, until my job got more complicated and my own family needed more of my time. Now that the pandemic is more or less past, mentors are still needed. Visit fcps.net for information on mentoring in Lexington. This piece originally appeared in Lexington Family magazine.