The Role of Mentoring at DRC: Revisiting a Post from Ten Years Ago.

Author's Note: Every writer needs a break. I know it's time to revisit an old post when my brain—normally buzzing with competing ideas—has none. No concepts queue up for consideration. No spark to begin. This week is one of those times.  It is fun to look back through the archives and see that things have changed very little, and that our core principles and philosophy are still shining through all these years later. I hope you'll enjoy this edited and revised piece from exactly ten years ago. ​​

11/9/2015

Trust at DRC reveals itself most clearly in our mentoring relationships. I tell every member from the start: "I will never tell you what to do—or what not to do." My role isn't to direct but to listen, support, and nurture—to help each student discover their own intrinsic motivation. I'm here to help them follow their interests and passions, wherever those may lead.

Mentoring happens organically as we move through each day. Every interaction—whether a conversation during a project, a debate over a game, or a spontaneous exchange—feeds our individual and group creativity and passions and becomes a chance for me to show up with mutual respect while engaging in dialogue that matters. ​

​I also meet individually with students for more formal conversations as needed. Sometimes they request these meetings; other times, I initiate them when I notice something worth addressing. They might last two minutes or stretch to half an hour, depending on what each student needs.

During these meetings, I wear many hats: I'm a sounding board, listening carefully to both words and body language. I brainstorm with them based on my observations. I offer feedback on their progress and behavior and connect them with resources for their projects or classes. Most importantly, I act as their personal cheerleader because my main goal is for them to be successful here.

This past week, one of our thirteen-year-olds asked me for a meeting. I think he was feeling like he really needed that one-on-one time to work through some concerns. When we finally sat down that afternoon, he told me he was feeling a bit worried because he had all these fantastic ideas, created amazing plans, started the projects, and then didn't follow through to completion.

​During this particular session, he was requesting guidance and concrete suggestions—he was feeling frustrated and couldn't figure this out on his own. First, I offered him an analogy: "You're like a hamster who spent seven years in a cage—doing what you were told, running on that wheel, getting nowhere. Now you're frantically racing around because suddenly there are so many possibilities, and you're just so happy to be free."

He laughed in recognition. Then we got to work. We reviewed all his projects—and there were many—chose two he wanted to complete, identified where they fit in his academic plan, outlined the necessary steps, and set a realistic timeline for both.
This simple course of action alleviated his feelings of frustration and defeat while allowing him to remain fully in charge of his education.

The first weeks—or months—after kids are freed from traditional school are always interesting, both for them and the adults in their lives. They suddenly have all this freedom and seem to be waiting for someone to step in and say, "Ha, fooled you!" or "OK, you're feeling lost. I think you should do X, Y, and Z."

This phenomenon varies in intensity (often depending on how long they were in the traditional system) and plays out differently with each child. For some, it looks like that delighted hamster racing around, happy to finally be free. Others feel completely overwhelmed, which shows up as ambivalence, boredom, or complacency. A few have no visible reaction at all. These are all legitimate responses to this revolutionary concept of self-directed learning.

One of our fifteen-year-olds is a classic example of someone who grasped independent learning from day one. When we meet, my job is simple: listen, suggest tutors or internship sponsors, provide resources, then stand back and cheer her on. She's already completed two internships, studies osteology at SUNY Potsdam's Physical Anthropology Lab with a student intern, and is helping design our potential after-school program—all while participating in group classes at DRC.

Another twelve-year-old is still catching his breath after just a few weeks with us. He happily hangs out with other kids, participates in group sessions, and has completed some art projects. He's taking time to adjust. I haven't heard him express specific interests yet, but in time, he'll let me know how I can help. Then we'll watch him take off.
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These examples show how our everyday interactions offer me opportunities to observe, listen, nurture, play, get messy, and learn—because I'm not concerned about controlling any student's outcome. We're all trusting and encouraging each other to be our best selves. Together, we've created a place where all thoughts, ideas, emotions, and suggestions matter equally.

DRC News

Weekly Wrap-Up
This week passed in a blur!  On Thursday, our bimonthly field trip kept us closer to home.  We ate lunch at the SLU Dana Dining Hall and then visited the Brush Gallery on campus. The exhibit showcased three artists diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease and highlighted how each of them experiences and uses their creativity as a result of their illness. It is well worth a visit. 

Field Trip Fun!

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The week in pictures.

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Little Free Pantry

Amazon Wishlist for Pantry

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