Confessions of a Serial Mentor
"How would you feel about mentoring one of our trainee teachers next year?"
"That sounds great, I'd love to. What exactly does it entail?"
"Well, it's basically a meeting and at least one observation a week, some paperwork, oh, and the chance to impact, for better or for worse, another person's future in the profession."
"OK. Sounds a little heavy but I'm definitely still interested. Anything else I need to know?"
"Err... There may be some crying. You're alright with crying, right? But sometimes there's some laughter, too. Possibly some panic. Essentially, the full range of human emotions, catalogued, cross-referenced, converted into evidence and kept in a big folder ready to be revisited for a final assessment."
"O....K. Anything else?"
"You can claim for an hour a week. And, at the end, you'll probably get a bottle of wine. That, and, unless you made a complete mess of it, a bucketful of gratitude."
"Great, I'm sold. Sign me up!"
As a mentor, I have been fortunate enough to have worked alongside some fantastic trainees and NQTs, many of whom I am still in contact with today. I have also been privileged to have connected with leaders in other schools and formed valued relationships (some still new, others longstanding). Being a mentor is without a doubt one of the best parts of my professional life and, whilst the focus of the mentoring relationship is on the development of the mentee (an awkward word - sounds a bit like a brand of over-the-counter medicine - but its the best I've got), I will admit that as a mentor I have frequently siphoned a little something off for myself. Namely...
1: Crystallising my approaches and values
Mentoring has led me into so many fascinating conversations, be it about pedagogy, classroom management, curriculum or PGCE romance (a subgenre of fiction just waiting to be written). Being the mentor, in a perceived position of authority, means that you're expected to have something useful to say - I won't delve into the coaching vs. mentoring debate here, other than to point out that my own experience is of a sliding scale, dependent on context - and, keen never to disappoint, it has meant thinking on my feet about how to articulate my responses. (Former mentees, do I have a 'tell' here? Hopefully its not an awkward period of me staring intently at the ceiling or stroking my beard in a Gandalf-esque way whilst you wait patiently for me to respond to that question about how to best deal with a crudely drawn penis being passed around the classroom.) As you sat listening to my carefully constructed responses to your questions, another member of the conversation was listening just as intently, having his own 'a-ha!' moments before quickly jotting a phrase or two down to use again when he needed to sound scholarly or astute.
2: Living vicariously through your successes
Unless your faith allows for it, we only have one life to live. Mine has led me here, but everyone I have had the pleasure of mentoring has cut a unique path. Being a part of your journeys has meant living some fragment of your successes myself. I have attended many more than my own 'QTS' celebration, cast my eyes over job descriptions for roles that I would never be applying for and, in a mildly embarrassing way, felt an almost paternal pride in your many achievements. The thank you cards and bottles of alcohol have always been received with joy (and imbibed with enthusiasm), but also a great relief that I have been in some way helpful. Your successes are in no way my successes - you deserve every accolade independent of my input. But to have been a part of others' journeys has always felt very special.
3. Keeping me 'walking the walk'
The term 'mentor' conjures up images of ageing Homeric heroes or wise old men with wispy beards and bonsai trees. Having such a title bestowed upon you is akin to being advertised as someone who knows what they're doing. And this pressure to live up to the Mister Miyagi image can feel immense. It also lays down a gauntlet (yes, I know, the cultural/historical references are getting a little erratic now), challenging you to be someone worthy of the role. Mentorship has served me best on those difficult days when, after little sleep, I would much rather dig out a DVD, hide in the store cupboard and pray that no one fancied an impromptu learning walk that morning. But once the phrase "come and observe me whenever you want" has left your lips, you are committed. I am a better teacher and leader because of this. You have kept me from complacency and my pupils all thank you wholeheartedly for the fact that I rarely let them watch any DVDs in class.
4. Reminding me of where I have come from
Much has been written and researched about the curse of the expert. The fact that, once we become proficient in something, we forget what it was like to have no knowledge of it. Teachers are confronted with this challenge daily, as we continually encounter those for whom many things are as yet unknown. For mentors, the same is true of all that has become automatic in our teaching and leadership behaviours. Remembering a time when we found something difficult can be a painful experience. I remember once observing a trainee teacher who had lost their way with a particularly challenging group of pupils and recalling my similar discomfort with a comparable class as a trainee. That visceral memory of my past inadequacies kept my feedback as mentor compassionate and forgiving. We have all been there - let's not pretend that great teachers appear, fully formed or have talents gifted to them at birth by pedagogical fairies - and my mentees have continually reminded me of this and, I hope, kept me humble as a result.
In short, being a mentor has made me a far better teacher, leader and human being. For all who I have mentored so far, I sincerely hope that you got as much from the experience as I have.
