Why I Mentor I have been a Virginia Heroes Incorporated mentor since October 1999. Since then, I have worked for three different firms, had a baby and joined the Virginia Heroes board, but I have never missed a mentoring session. God willing, I will still be mentoring when the children of my current mentorees are old enough to be in the program. I am one of those people who, having benefited from all the advantages of a middle-class upbringing in an intact family and a premium education, feel a need to “give back to the community.” A one-time teacher, I often thought of mentoring as a possible volunteer pursuit where I could make a difference (unlike, say, joining one of those organizations requiring handyman skills that I conspicuously lack). So, when I read in an employee newsletter that Virginia Heroes Incorporated was having a mentor recruiting drive, I went to the meeting and knew instantly this was what I needed to do. During the six-and-a-half years since then, I’ve never once thought my time could be more productively spent. Why this program out of all the Richmond organizations that support kids in the public schools? Part of it is the people. You could not find a more selfless bunch, from the retired gym teacher who donates videos and brochures to supplement our violence prevention lessons to the bank executive who works late to keep our books in order. But mainly, it’s the philosophy. Arthur Ashe, our founder, was onto something when he described middle-school children as being at a crossroads, making decisions that will determine how the rest of their lives will go but often without a clear view of the choices before them. Mentors from the community, he reasoned, could help them articulate those choices while serving as role models of the success that flows from making good choices. I grasped the power of Ashe’s concept intellectually right from the start, but nothing could have prepared me for the raw hunger of the sixth graders for someone to help them navigate their lives. Child abuse, drugs, exploitation, trouble with the law…students would talk matter-of-factly about these things happening to themselves, family members or friends as if they were as inevitable as bad weather. Once I asked a group if they knew personally someone who had been murdered, and 12 of 15 raised their hands. Another time, students were having trouble concentrating because they had just seen a classmate in a pornographic video. And then there are the minor indignities like the security officer who rifles through your purse so he can take your bubble gum and the parent who makes you pick up empty cans of beer you did not drink. At first I felt overwhelmed, until I realized the children’s stories represented not the end of hope but the beginning of learning. They were urgent invitations to respond with a simple, longed-for message: You were made for better things. Who would have thought that message was an earth-shaking discovery? But it was, and in time I learned I was conveying it not just with my words but also with my presence, showing up faithfully in their classroom twice a month. Once that message sinks in (and it needs to be repeated), the children become active discoverers of what they must do to secure that better life. This inner process is the unstated premise of our program. And it works. Teachers report improvement in their students’ behavior on Virginia Heroes days. Students who in October sessions were on the verge of being sent to the principal for disruptive behavior are valued contributors by February. One of my mentorees from several years back was recently featured in the newspaper for working towards his dream of becoming a choreographer with the help of a scholarship. “When people look at me they think I am going to be such as a ‘thug’ or a ‘gangsta,’” he was quoted as saying; “I’m going to prove them wrong.” Successes like that make me want to redouble my efforts to do right by those who are struggling just to get through the week, forget about long-term goals. Right now, I have one boy who wrote on a worksheet about decision-making that his hardest choice at the moment is whether to live with his mom or dad. If he lives with his mom he’ll “get yelled at all the time;” if with his dad he’ll “get my stuff taken” and if he tries to live with both, “I’ll go crazy.” At the end of the worksheet, he chooses to “go to court” and let a judge decide who’s best for him to live with. Neither Virginia Heroes Incorporated nor any organization can help with a dilemma like this. But what I and my dedicated fellow mentors can do, supported by worksheets and our own reserves of empathy, is help give these children a framework for thinking clearly about their lives. That is why I mentor.
Mentor, Second Vice President
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