Mentorship is one of the most meaningful parts of my work as a university instructor. I’ve spent years teaching, advising, and guiding students through academic choices and as they try to figure out what they want to do. For today’s post, I had the grand idea of reviewing Bridging Difference for Better Mentoring: Lean Forward, Learn, Leverage. I decided to spend my time with the book and complete the questions and tasks at the end of each chapter. I’ve been reading a chapter a week during lunch and then processing what I’ve read. I realized I don’t need to finish the book to articulate my mentoring philosophy. I’ve been living it for years. This post isn’t a review, or at least it’s not now. I may write a review later or a mini review for Instagram. Rather, this post is about where I am and what I do. Once I’ve finished the book, I can explore what I’ve changed.
At its core, mentoring is a relationship grounded in trust and shared purpose. I don’t see myself as someone who gives students answers or maps out their futures. Instead, I help them build the tools, confidence, and intellectual courage to navigate uncertainty. I see mentoring as collaborative: I can’t tell students or younger colleagues what to do, but I can guide them toward a path that fits by talking through their goals. My role is to walk alongside them and perhaps point out what they may have missed. Mentorship isn’t about reaching a single end goal; it’s about the journey, the choices made along the way, and the conscious decision not to act. I care more about helping them find their way than about the destination itself. Students bring their whole selves into the relationship: their histories, anxieties, ambitions, and identities. Together, we need to find a way to talk and work through transitions.
Boundaries are not barriers; they provide structure for both the mentor and the mentee, ensuring a healthy relationship. I can’t replace a parent, a friend, a therapist, or anyone else, and I wouldn’t want to. They should look to me for guidance, not for absolution. I can’t make decisions for my mentees, and if that’s what they want, we need to revisit what a mentor’s role entails. A mentee shouldn’t expect me to always be available, but they can anticipate thoughtful, timely responses. A good relationship sometimes means that no is the best answer. A good mentor knows when they’re not the right person for a particular need. Every mentoring relationship needs shared expectations, communication norms, and agreed-upon goals.
Mentoring works best when students understand what they’re stepping into. I expect students to do some prep before we meet. A first meeting should start with questions, drafts, ideas, or reflections. But not a long list of goals, or even a single goal (med/law school or a job at x company). A long list and a single goal are a bit unrealistic. If that’s all they bring, we can work to refine the list and goals. I’m not saying I wouldn’t recommend the final goal, but maybe create milestones to get there. They should be honest and tell me what they’re struggling with (but again, don’t expect a therapy session). Following through and communication are key on both our sides. Following through means action, not just talking about what to do. This was part of what took me so long to finish my PhD. I would do x next week and y after that. But when the next week came, I would put it off. I would shift my timeline but not always share it with my mentor. This was my issue, not hers. A mentoring relationship works best when both parties are 100% honest, all the time.
Even after years of mentoring, I’m still evolving. I’m learning to navigate differences, support students with identities and experiences unlike my own, and create mentoring spaces that are both challenging and empowering. As I continue reading Bridging Differences, I’m excited to refine my approach. I’m not starting from scratch. I’m learning to be better. This post marks the end of my September theme, Teaching & Mentorship. It’s been a month of reflection and exploration, from teaching philosophies to classroom creativity to the realities of student feedback. Next month, I’m shifting into Secrets & Storytelling, a theme that feels like a natural continuation. Mentorship is full of stories. Ones we tell, one’s students tell, and, more importantly, ones we are still learning how to write. And maybe that’s the real heart of mentoring: helping someone shap
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