I Got It: Mentoring Isn't For The Mentor

From the first moment I heard about Pipeline NAU, a mentoring program matching Northern Arizona University professors with low-income middle-school students, I knew I wanted to be a mentor.

The students who complete the five-year program with a B average receive a full scholarship to NAU. I remembered what a financial struggle it was for me to get my B.A. But more than that, I remembered what I was like in the eighth grade--a shabbily dressed little mess from the stereotypically broken, impoverished and chaotic home. I skipped more school than I attended; my grades were a train wreck, and I wasn't exactly on the slumber-party A-list.

Still, I managed to scratch my way through three college degrees and eventually became an English professor. But I really could've used a mentor--someone to turn to for advice, someone to provide a glimpse into a world of educated people doing interesting things.

I hoped I could be that person for someone else, and so I enthusiastically threw myself into the six-month mentor-training program. I endured an FBI background check, an interview in which I was asked about my sex life and whether I had a history of substance abuse and a variety of "group bonding" activities with the other potential mentors and mentees. Through all of these indignities, I comforted myself with elaborate fantasies of me and my grateful, compliant protegé.

I'd expose her to literature, classical music and ballet, and she'd soak it all in like an underwatered houseplant. She'd emulate my look, my style, my sensibilities. We'd shop together. I'd confess my adolescent disasters, inspiring her to make better choices. I was going to be the best mentor ever.

But when I was matched with Risa, I was terrified. I'd noticed Risa often during the summer group activities. It's impossible not to notice Risa. She's a flat-out gorgeous teen, Tyra Banks beautiful. And she's funny and popular and the queen of her school. And I, a socially inept peasant, clearly had nothing to offer her.