Mentoring 101: Before you accuse the youth of irresponsibility, ask what happened.
Tanisha didn’t come to her tutoring session last week. I wasn’t surprised, getting street kids to make and keep an appointment is difficult. Their lives are unpredictable, they don’t have moms and teachers reminding them, they don’t have reliable transportation. But she could have emailed me and said ‘I can’t make it.’ Her lack of communication must be addressed, I thought, she just doesn’t know how important it is. She’s a child, and I, I am the brilliant, kind-hearted patient volunteer who will enlighten and inspire her to be more responsible.
So I wrote a very long, very verbose email about how communication will improve her relationships, communication will garner her respect from adults, communication is the one attritribute that makes people successful. Don’t worry, I said, I am not mad and am still here for you.
Her response was short and curt, she said I didn’t need to write her an essay, she didn’t come because she thought I cancelled it. And why did I write that essay? She doesn’t need help with her relationships or life, she can handle herself just fine. And did I think she was slow? Cause she ain’t slow.
A single blow that shot me sqaurely off my soap box. I landed on my backside, out of breath and embarrassed. She was absolutely right. Why didn’t I just ask her why she didn’t come rather than accuse her? Why didn’t I give her a chance to explain herself, start a dialogue rather than present a monologue?
Because I had volunteer worship fever; I thought of myself as her savior. I am not her savior, she needs no saving. She’s survived on the street by herself for three years. Her ability to survive and ‘handle herself’ is all she has, and I spat on it for three paragraphs of professor-like scolding. So I apologized profusely, spoke more plainly and assured her I think she is very smart. I think she will kick ass in college. Forgive me?
Tanisha is probably not the only person who has rolled her eyes at my lengthly, pretentious lectures. Friends come to me for advice, and I like to give it, but that occassionally morphs into a self-righteous ramble. What I must work on is slowly giving a small soundbyte of advice, a short pause for thought. The person seeking help can engage as much as they want; I will follow their lead.
She responded that she wasn’t mad and forgave me. She just took a pre-test and hopes she passes. She would still like to tutor.
Here is where our relationship begins. As patient as I must be with her, she has to be equally patient with me. As much as I enrich her life, she will enrich mine. She doesn’t need me, we need each other.
