First Mentor, Lasting Impact

 Colleagues are a wonderful thing – but mentors, that’s where the real work gets done. – Junot Díaz, Author, Professor, and Pulitzer Prize Winner

Question: Who should have a mentor? How do you find a good mentor? What are the benefits of having a mentor? Having recently reviewed my life in light of these questions, I recognize that mentors have surfaced everywhere.  My first mentor was a long-term gift for the long term. For the moment, I will call her DHD.

DHD’s and my partnership began unexpectantly. Imagine with me the East Coast suburbs in the 1950’s with their balloon-filled children’s birthday parties. DHD’s two-year-old birthday celebration was interrupted by a seven-pound crasher. Arriving 30 days early, I forced my mom (who was DHD’s mother as well) to exit the festivities while still at their height. At least I arrived after midnight, so DHD did not have to share her birthdate. She should have resented her wrinkled intruder, but no, on meeting me, DHD happily thought to herself, “Ah, my first mentee!”

And mentor me DHD did. For the next sixteen years, until she left for Duke University, my sister (I called her Diane) engaged, equipped, and educated me. From unmasking Monopoly ploys to accessorizing Barbie outfits, from swooning over Dr. Kildare weekly episodes to lip-syncing Beatles’ 45’s, from stage-managing theater performances to choreographing synchronized swimming, Diane involved me in all her adventures. No surprise then that when I went to university I attended the northern college which had served as the model for Doris Duke’s southern version.

Diane’s concentrated mentorship has borne fruit in my life for over sixty years. When I think over her leadership, her talents, and her loves, I realize how much my older sister guided and molded me. Like her, I love teaching and inspiring students, I joy in researching, writing, and editing, and I feel most satisfied when I build up young co-workers and watch them progress far beyond my expertise.

Right now, Diane’s influence is currently at the forefront of my thinking, because, after five brief weeks of struggle with small-cell lung cancer, my sister and lifelong mentor passed on to heaven. After listening to friends and family honor Diane, I concluded that I shared many passions and purposes that shaped her years as educator, administrator, researcher, community leader, and family member. Both of us served in educational administration for decades. Both of us earned reputations as finishers who loved to envelope others in the completion process. I even share Diane’s favorite color—blue.

So many of my choices which I thought were original or idiosyncratic, I now recognize as products of imitation. Many of my habits were first Diane’s. Many of the priorities I espouse were adapted from her. Many of the differences between Diane and me prove surface and not substance. Diane was a college educator while I work in the K-12 realm, but our passions are similar. The last few weeks, I have asked myself: “Why did I think Diane and I were so different?” True, once grown we siblings appeared distinct. We lived in opposite sections of the country, our face and body type differed; my hair was straight and brunette and hers curly and blond; our personalities ranged from extreme introvert (Diane) to an almost extrovert (me). I worked in religious education, Diane served at private, secular universities. I was in the humanities, she in the sciences. She loved cats; I prefer dogs. Real differences, but superficial ones nonetheless.

My sister has continued to mentor me through the stories I heard during her memorial service. Here are three life-lessons she taught:

·      Leaders are listeners more than talkers. When leaders speak, their words should count. Diane was quiet, always taciturn. But when necessary, she spoke clearly about her mentee’s abilities, their need to face criticism and rise above it, and their progress toward success. Because she listened well, her ideas made sense and carried weight. Good talkers are everywhere; powerful listeners are rare.

·      When in doubt, write. Diane believed in putting words on paper, and, whenever possible, writing in community. Both an excellent wordsmith and precise copy editor, she attracted followers. But she also sought out co-authors—including insecure students and struggling academics. She enjoined her mentees never to let opposition or difficulty force them to quit writing. Her colleagues recalled several variations of Diane’s humble mantra: “Think how much we can accomplish if we don’t care about who gets the credit.”

·      Cookies and kittens serve to smooth many wrinkles. Diane fed and comforted those she served. She baked and shared goodies. She also fostered kittens. Diane’s message is compelling: good mentors offer personalized support that reflects time and effort. More than training or information, mentees seek a relationship that is both refuge and refreshment.

If you are a mentor, you want to make a difference. You want to initiate change, to build leaders, to leave a mark. Living in a university town, I often see buildings purchased and named in the hopes of providing their donors with lasting memorials. The irony is that, after some years pass, these “legacy buildings” are often renovated, refinanced, and renamed. In spite of appearances, a brick and mortar legacy can prove short-lived.

The best mentors leave a legacy—a legacy in the hearts and actions of their mentees. My sister Diane has left her mark on many people including her sister—and her sister’s mentees.

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