Over the summer, Maria*, my fifth-grade mentee, had a great idea. “I want to write the Disney Channel a letter,” she announced, plopping down on my couch.
“About what?” I asked. I was imagining a fan letter about Miley Cyrus, That’s So Raven, or something equally hideous.
“The Jonas brothers,” she said. “I have a lotta ideas for new shows they can do with me.”
I couldn’t help but get excited. And not because of my latent crush on Kevin Jonas (someone’s got to like the ugly one!). Maria was taking something she loved, coming up with a creative idea, and pitching it in a constructive, professional way. We’d come a long way from the year before, when all she wanted to do was recount YouTube videos of the Jonas brothers and Miss Piggy. Much as I love Miss Piggy, I will vomit if I have to hear about another video of her giggling with Joe Jonas.
Of course, in practice, the letter turned out to be much less professional or practical than I’d originally imagined. Most of Maria’s ideas had to do with Joe Jonas entering a long-term, intense relationship with her that started out with lots of flirting and practical jokes. Indulge me in showing you a little excerpt:
In the video game, I’m the queen and Joe’s the king, and Nick and Kevin are the princes. Kevin gets mad that Joe is the king and that he can’t be, so I get his underwear and throw it around his head. One time he gets mad and does a prank on me, and I attack him, and Joe, Nick, Selena, and Liz try to hold me back. Then I jump on him and tickle him until he pees (but not really, it will be fake).
Maria dictated while I typed madly, structuring a pitch letter to Disney. We researched the Web for the right address, and then we sent it away, expecting some sort of response. (I encouraged this thinking, since I remembered sending a drawing to Crayola when I was eight and getting a personalized letter and a bundle of free crayons, paper, and other goodies in return.)
Seven months later, she still hasn’t received anything in the mail. Either Disney is infinitely inferior to Crayola, or times have changed. Honestly, though, I don’t think it matters. She went for what she believed in and showed incredible initiative. I wouldn’t say that I’m the reason she did it, but I do think our relationship as mentor and mentee—facilitated through Austin Partners in Education, a program for underprivileged children—helped. She had a person who inspired her to do something with her creativity, as well as a safe space (and place) to talk and experiment with ideas.
Keep in mind that this was four years into our relationship. I started working with Maria when she was in second grade. I’d come eat lunch with her at school, and we would talk about what was bothering her, what she was interested in, or absolutely nothing at all. There were a whole four months where we did nothing but play “Twenty Questions.” I couldn’t have been more thrilled when she finally learned the concept of picking something outside the room (strangely enough, she was incredible at guessing my obscure choices for the game, including Harriet Tubman, in under five questions).
After a while, I got to know Maria’s parents, and she and I started hanging out on the weekends once in a while. She would come over and make brownies, watch YouTube, complain about school or her parents or her brother, and just generally hang out. Our relationship has exceeded the Austin Partners in Education setup a bit, but the APIE program is still pretty great. They’ll set you up with a school immediately, and then the school will pair you with a kid. They have training and events all the time to reinforce how to be a mentor. But honestly, once you’re in, you’re pretty much in the trenches, learning how to respond honestly to a kid who’s often in a much harder situation than you’ve ever been.
This year, Maria’s in middle school. Middle School. (Among other things, this means that she’s too aloof to ask to come over on weekends.) I remember it being a time of severe insecurity, but last week, Maria said to me (and her friends, whom we now eat lunch with too), “I am sooo awesome!” I was shocked. Confidence is good, it’s what we’ve been working for, but this was a little much. Other things have changed too. Now we talk about boys, friends, boys, class, boys. It’s great to follow someone from being a girl into becoming a woman. When I went to visit her last week, she had hips. The transformation is happening before my eyes. Although she’s still very much a little girl. The eighth graders at school may show off their babies in the cafeteria, but Maria is not interested in babies or getting that close to boys. I think she just likes the drama of who has a crush on who and no she didn’t and he called me last night but I didn’t pick up.
Fortunately, three casualties of the new Middle School Maria are Joe, Nick, and Kevin Jonas. She’s on to bigger and older things, namely Michael Jackson. We’re back to recounting another set of YouTube videos over and over again. Wasn’t he cute when he was in the Jackson 5? This song is, like, totally the best. He’s so the King of Pop. I mean, I only like boys who look like Michael.
Regardless of who she’s crushing on this week, though, Maria is there for me as much as I have been for her. She is a constant in my life. No matter what kind of day I’m having—and there have been some bad ones—if it’s Tuesday, I go to Maria’s school, and we talk about her and help solve her problems. Somehow that helps solve mine, too.
*Name has been changed to protect privacy.
Very inspiring!
Thanks for the post, Megan!
LOVED reading this!