I was nervous as I walked into school that day. It had been 28 years since I had been in second grade. Today I would stand in line with my younger counterparts while waiting for my chocolate milk and tray of cafeteria food that wouldn’t quite fill me up.
It was my first day as a mentor to a second grade Black Hawk student. Gabe (whose name has been changed to preserve his privacy) was eager to talk. We grabbed our lunch and sat at a special table normally reserved for those in lunch detention. Today, the table was shared with other South Side adults who were mentoring Black Hawk students. I assured Gabe that his friends would soon realize that this wasn’t detention. Sure enough, within a few weeks his classmates buzzed with excitement when I walked in, stating that “Gabe’s mentor was here.”
I’m not sure how you would define mentorship. We didn’t solve any of life’s problems. I didn’t show him how to perform an important life task. Instead, we just talked and played games. Our weekly lunch was on Monday so we would spend the first 20 minutes recapping our weekends. Once we finished our lunch, we’d bust out Yahtzee, Connect Four, or Battleship...and sometimes all in the same day. Occasionally the discussion would lead to victories or disappointments in life, but mostly it was just typical second grade banter. I was fortunate enough to have my own daughter in second grade which gave me first-hand knowledge of Gabe’s curriculum. This led to some annoying reminders about math facts, writing skills, or general life skills that are promoted across the entire district. In February, I had an experience that could only have been made possible through God’s direction.
While at Steak ‘n Shake I saw Gabe walk in with his grandmother. He talked a lot about her in our weekly meetings. He didn’t yet notice that I was there, but I planned on introducing myself once they concluded their meal. Throughout their dinner, I witnessed what seemed to be a very important conversation culminating in hugs and tears. What I was witnessing was the moment that Gabe learned that he was going to be adopted by his grandmother - something they were both looking forward to. Afterward, I congratulated them and got to know Gabe’s grandmother who had also heard a lot about me.
When you volunteer to be a mentor, it’s these brief life-moments that become bigger than lunch and board games. You don’t need special training or a certain background. You just need to be present. This presence, combined with positive influences from teachers and family, have the distinct ability to make a child feel heard, encouraged, and loved.
