The first email introducing me to Rachelle described her as “funny and reserved.” I am also reserved, and I aspire to be funny, so we had that much in common. She wanted a mentor who could “listen.” I thought, I can do that! How hard could listening be?
It turned out that I had a lot to learn about listening and being a mentor.
Rachelle and I first met over Zoom in the fall of 2021. She was navigating her first semester as a neuroscience major at Northeastern University with an eye on med school, and I was her assigned senior mentor through The Valedictorian Project (TVP), a nonprofit that started after a 2019 Boston Globe investigation found 25% of Boston’s brightest high school graduates were failing to earn a bachelor’s degree within six years.
Our first meeting was a little awkward. She mentioned that her phone could be a little distracting in class, and I confessed I never had to worry about that since cell phones hadn’t been invented when I was in school. That brought a smile out and broke some of the ice. But there was a lot of ice to break. Different generations, different genders, different races. On the surface, we didn’t have much in common, but we found connections over the years.
Like her, I was a first-generation student. Neither of my parents completed a four-year college degree, so I had some idea of what it was like to navigate the university system without the guidance of a parent who had done it themselves. I could also commiserate with her dislike of organic chemistry, which was the bane of my GPA as an undergrad.
We don’t only talk about school, and sometimes the topics get heavy. Rachelle’s family is Haitian, and after the recent U.S. presidential election, we talked about what the incoming administration might mean for her relatives. I certainly never had to worry about anything like that during my senior year in college.
And there are lighter moments, like when we debated which musicals make the best movies (“Wicked” got her seal of approval; she’s already seen it three times!). When I brought my daughters to see her dance performance at Northeastern, they were able to see some fantastic routines and get a sneak peek at college life.
Few of our conversations entail my offering advice. Three years ago, Rachelle was looking for a listener, and she eventually got one. Someone to listen to her challenges, her dreams, and her perspective on the world. Over time, I realized that mentoring isn’t about being an expert. It’s about showing up and being willing to learn.
Through Rachelle, I have a better understanding of what it means to be a first-generation college student in the 2020s, a young Black woman in STEM, and someone balancing two worlds—her family’s expectations and her own ambitions. She’s taught me more than I ever expected, not just about her life but about myself and how I engage with others.
Mentoring isn’t about having all the answers. Thanks to some of the training I’ve received through TVP and some trial and error with my mentee, I’ve come to understand that it’s also about being present, strengthening networks, and letting small actions build into something bigger. If you don’t have a lot of free time but are looking for ways to give back, mentoring is a great place to start. A small amount of effort can make a big difference in a young person’s life and your own.
Eric J. Perkins writes about Gen X for The Belmont Voice. When he’s not vaulting over brick walls, he’s the Director of Transformation at Addgene, a life sciences nonprofit in Watertown.