Mentoring Resource Center

In a training session last week with faculty and staff members I made the comment that I wasn’t a fan of “forced mentorship.” What I mean by that is, I don’t love a model where someone in a position of power (a faculty or staff member) forces themselves upon another person with lower rank (like a student) and declares themselves to be their mentor. These situations have too much potential for harm and distress, and really, it signifies something rather strange about that person’s ego and motivations for engaging in the relationship. I much prefer that the person seeking mentorship make an ask of someone they want to engage in a relationship. But, how do you that? How do you “ask someone to be your mentor” without saying those words?

I really like this piece in Harvard Business Review describing how to make that ask. It’s a softer version of just walking up to someone (or emailing them) and making a cold ask for mentorship. As the author notes, start with a request for a 15 or 30 minute coffee (in person or virtually) around something you admire in them. That could be a research interest you want to learn more about, or a project they have worked on, or an interest of yours that connects to their work. Make it tactical, but also relational: “I’m exploring my interests in doing international service work, and I’ve noticed that you have quite a bit of experience in this area. I was wondering if you would be willing to meet for 15 or 30 minutes to talk about your experience and what you’ve learned from doing that work? If you’re willing and have some dates and times that work for you, I will send a calendar invite.”

What do you notice? There is a specific ask, in terms of time and the reason for the conversation. It’s on a topic that is relevant to the person being asked and shows you have done your homework (I know you would be a great resource to me in this area because I have actually done that research.). It’s friendly and non-demanding in its tone. All you’re asking for is a bit of advice and time. And, you offer to do the work of scheduling the meeting.

It’s January, the start of a new year, which means, for many people, it’s time to set some goals and intentions (resolutions, if you want to call them that, though I don’t recommend it). And while there is nothing magic about the turn of the calendar that makes you any better suited to meet some vague aspiration than you were, say, a month ago, it does have that feeling of a clean slate that we like. Kind of like the start of a new school year, when you’re armed with a set of fresh, clean, un-marked-up notebooks. Anything could happen. We no longer have to think about the missed opportunities from last year. Because this is a new year, and that means new opportunities to be amazing.

I don’t love New Year’s resolutions because they set us up for false expectations. But if you were going to do one thing this year, I would love for you to lean into building your network. Let’s be honest. It’s been a rough few years of zoom meetings and classes, and hiding away in our bedrooms. There hasn’t been a ton of great opportunities for building relationships, and especially new relationships, over the past few years. But you need people. We all do. You need people who will push you and support you, who will challenge your view of the world, and encourage you to take risks. You need people who will connect you to opportunities and resources and yes, even other people.

Your network is, more than anything else, your superpower. And the great news is that you are completely in control of how strong or how weak that superpower is. It’s not something that some people get and others don’t, like natural athletic or artistic ability. It’s not something some people ultimately master and others won’t, like some of your classes. It’s not an exclusive club that only certain people get to join. You get to decide who shows up for you, and how.

This month we are celebrating National Mentoring Month, the annual spotlight on the role of mentors and the value of mentoring relationships. This year, we are putting a specific focus on the importance of relationship building and network building. Whether it’s in-person or online, there are six simple steps to building an effective network:

Figure out what you need. Where do you need help? Is it academically, professionally, something else? Is there something you’re looking to learn?

List 2-3 people who could help you. You don’t have to know these people already. This is the value of LinkedIn and the WakeNetwork. Do some research! And share what you are looking for with those you do know, so they can make an introduction for you.

Reach out. Once you identify some people, send a note with a specific ask for what you need. Describe what your intention is - I’m seeking some guidance on my next steps and would value your input - and ask for a conversation.

Bring questions. Stay curious and be prepared to engage the other person in a conversation. Remember, you’re trying to build a relationship here. Show up ready to talk, like you would with any other person.

Follow-up. Send a thank you (email is fine) expressing gratitude for their time and wisdom and ask if you can reach back out in a few months. And then do so.

Rinse and repeat. Building your network is not a one-time exercise. It’s active, ongoing work, that you do on behalf of you. And guess what? The more you do it, the easier it becomes. Keep going!

The end of the semester, this time between early November and early December, always feels like a bit of a mad dash to me. Suddenly, it seems, time speeds up, and there are more things to get done than there are minutes in the day. On top of which there is the promise of an extended break at the end, and the idea that, “If we can just get to winter break…” We over-commit, over-schedule, over-promise, and in many cases, inevitably under-deliver. None of us has more than twenty-four hours in the day, no matter how hard we try to create more time, more capacity, more room for the things we want to do.

In all this rushing around, it’s easy to get so focused on what’s right in front of us that we forget to notice what has happened, behind us. I, for one, am guilty of getting so focused on powering through my daily to-do list (there’s a weekly one, too), that I forget to build in time to just think. What a waste of time that seems, when I could be using it to build that program or email those people back or prepare for a meeting tomorrow. But our thinking time is our most precious time. It’s our opportunity to reflect on all that we’ve learned, acknowledge the many ways that we’ve changed and grown, and dream about how we can use all that in the future. When we skip the thinking time, we put too much emphasis on the what, when, and how, and not enough emphasis on the why, or the why not.

Each of us has been changed in some way by the past two years. You may have lost someone. You may have suffered health issues yourself. You may have struggled to keep up academically or at work. You may have discovered something about yourself you never knew before. You may have deepened relationships or cut ties with people. In a thousand different ways, we have changed and been changed. What a shame it would be to push past all that in some false sense of urgency created by manufactured deadlines and to-do lists written on scrap paper.

This is the time for deep thinking. This is the time to ask yourself some big questions, like:

Who am I in this moment? What do I value and how am I living those values each day?

How did the past two years change me? What do I want to keep as I move forward, and what do I want to let go of?

What are the most important priorities for me over the next two months? How will I honor them and make space for them in my life?

How do I think differently now, about my life, my goals, my work, my strengths? What am I re-thinking?

We have each of us, in our own ways, had to re-learn a lot over the past few months. For many of us there is much still to re-learn, or knowledge to acquire for the first time. How do we show up for and with other people? How do we participate in classrooms or meetings if not in a tiny box on the screen? How do we engage with co-workers, with roommates, with people out in society at large? Do we hug? Shake hands? Wear a mask? Not wear a mask? Eat indoors? Go to that party? It’s a lot of tiny daily decisions and many large ones, as well, often with not enough information. So many things that we thought we knew have been turned on their heads, and while sometimes a change of perspective is a great thing, sometimes it’s just disorienting.

Mentoring relationships are always about the learning. It’s always about identifying a goal and setting a course of action to achieve it. The gift of mentoring is that you don’t have to do that work alone, and that you are guided by someone who has been there before you. The mentor’s job isn’t to tell the mentee what to do, or to do the work for them, but to ask great questions, to provide objective feedback based on the wisdom of their experience, and to hold them accountable for forward progress. The mentee does the work. The mentee does the learning.

Here at the Mentoring Resource Center we have created the CORE Four: the four key skills that we want every student to know and be able to do before graduation. These are the four key skills to any mentoring relationship. No matter your experience level, it’s worth your time to think about: Do I know these? Can I do them?

Build Relationships: We all need people to be successful. And, as we have noted previously in this space, great relationships require intention, active work, and commitment. Can you identify one (or more) people with whom you would like to build an effective relationship, today? What would it look like for you to reach out, to start a conversation, and to show up with intention?

Set Goals: Again, mentoring relationships are always about identifying a goal and setting a course of action to achieve it. And the person to do that work is you. What is one goal you want to set for yourself between now and the end of this semester? Between now and the end of this year? What will it take to achieve it? Which relationships will help you get there?

Seek Feedback: Great mentors provide objective feedback based on their experience and knowledge. And, great mentees seek out feedback, because they are always working to learn and get better. Seeking out feedback, learning how to sit and listen to feedback, is a skill that will serve you for the rest of your life. Why not start now?

Reflect on Experiences: Finally, it’s not enough to just build the relationships, set the goals, and seek out the feedback, you have to be willing to reflect on what you are learning about yourself. What do you know now that you didn’t know last year? What are you learning from the goals you are working on? How can you use that knowledge in the future?

Mentoring relationships are active work. Let’s be honest, any relationship is work. Some are easier than others, but whether it’s personal or professional, a friendship or a romantic relationship, all relationships require intention and a willingness to show up, day in and day out, and participate. And mentoring relationships are no different. We must each actively seek out the people who are going to help us grow and develop. And, we must each commit to be there. Otherwise the whole thing just falls apart.

There’s something nice about this element to relationships, I think, because it means that we don’t have to be there. You get to choose the people you are in relationship with. Not always, of course, you may not choose your professors, or your co-workers, or your family. But you do get to choose how much influence or control they have over you, how much energy and space they take up, and how much time you will give to them. And of course, the same goes for them. We don’t, as a general rule, go around forcing people to be in relationship with us. It’s unhealthy and dangerous and leads to poor results.

One of the most important parts of any successful mentoring relationship is the willingness to participate, by both parties, and the mutual commitment that each person makes to the other. The relationship is an agreement: to show up, to participate, to be respectful, and to be accountable. And, it’s a commitment to yourself: to learn, to challenge yourself, to try new things, and to grow. None of us can be successful alone. And, no mentoring relationship can be successful without a mutual agreement to do the work together.

This is a great moment to think about how you are re-committing to yourself, this year. That may mean letting go of some things (or some people). It may mean setting some new intentions. How do you want this year to be different from last year (and saying, “no Covid would be nice” is not an acceptable answer)? What would it take for you to make that happen?

Before you seek out another person’s wise counsel or mentoring, ask yourself some questions:

What is no longer serving me, and what am I willing to let go of so that I can move forward?

What do I want to work on this semester or year? Is there a skill I want to develop, a subject I want to learn, a project I want to do well?

What’s a challenge I need to overcome?

What would it take for me to fully commit to a relationship with someone else? Do I have the time or the energy? Am I willing to show up?

And…. we’re back. Well, sort of. As we all know, we’re easing back into everyday life, back into school, back into the office, and there are still a lot of unknowns out there. This pandemic isn’t over, not by a long shot. But we are, little by little, taking steps to reclaim a bit of what was, and reassessing to see what we need to do to readjust things for the future. And let’s be honest. We’re going to screw some things up, here. Because, just like we’ve spent the last year and a half going through new experiences, good and bad, this part of it is new, too. We’ve never had to emerge from a global pandemic before. So, let’s all agree to give one another a bit of grace, shall we?

One reason (among many, certainly) that I am so excited for this moment that we are in is that it is an opportunity to rethink how we are connecting with other people. And, listen, all things considered, I think we did pretty well with this over the past eighteen months. We learned how to hop on zoom, for classes, for meetings, for conferences and other events, for social gatherings, and a myriad of other purposes. We became very clear on those relationships that are critically important and needed to be maintained, and those that perhaps were just an added burden or an obligation. It is my sincere hope that we take some of that clarity into these next few months, recognizing that there are people and relationships that feed us and those that drain us, and none of us should feel obligated to maintain the latter.

Without question, those of us who consider ourselves introverts (myself included) went into this pandemic with a few more coping skills at hand. But that doesn’t mean that our more introverted friends didn’t suffer from mental health impacts that come along with social isolation. Because the truth is, we all need people. We are social beings by nature, and study after study demonstrate the devastating health and wellbeing impacts that come with social isolation, ranging from anxiety to depression to suicidal behaviors. We are meant to be in community with other people. We are meant to be connected to other people. We all need people who can and will cheer us on in our high moments, and who will lift us up in the low ones. It doesn’t mean we need tons of people; it’s OK to have a small circle of close friends and confidants. But none of us can be successful alone.

So, as we enter this new stage, this new school year, and this new semester, I encourage you to ask yourself the following questions, now and repeatedly as the year goes on:

Who are my go-to people for advice and feedback? What is one question I could send to each of them, today?

Who are my people for doing something fun, who align with my values and interests? Could I reach out to one of them, this week, to make a plan?

Who are the people who look to me for support and guidance? When was the last time I checked in on them?

Who is someone I’ve always wanted to connect with, like a faculty member, or even a peer? Could I send them a note this week to ask for a coffee chat?

What are the groups, clubs, or volunteer opportunities that I find interesting? What research do I need to do to get involved (maybe start with just one)?

What are the resources on campus that can support me this year, academically, personally, or professionally? Can I make an appointment?

Reflecting on the past eighteen months, when was my energy at its lowest? At its highest? What does that mean for me in the weeks and months to come?

What do I need from other people to feel (re)connected? What do they need from me? What can I do to make sure that happens?

Do you remember when you were in school, how you longed for summer vacation (and spring break, and winter break), counting the days until it arrived? Even if you had no plans, or if you were going to be working some tedious summer job, you still couldn’t wait to get there. Summer always held the promise of something. The promise of relaxed days, of beach trips, of staying up late and sleeping in. It was a necessary sort of intentional rest and a time to reset for the following fall. And, generally speaking, by the time September rolled around, you were ready to get back to school and back to work.

When I was a child, we spent our summers in New England. My father was a teacher, and he taught in summer schools in New Hampshire and Massachusetts for most of my childhood. I used to describe it as “summer camp with your whole family.” We learned how to swim and to take out kayaks and canoes in a lake. We took art classes and played sports and played in the woods. Once a summer we climbed a small mountain (large hill) with the entire campus for a sunrise church service, and once a summer we all loaded into buses for a surprise trip to the coast. We gathered drinking water from a natural spring and had movie nights with root beer floats. It was peaceful and idyllic and never lasted as long as we wanted. My parents no doubt remember it differently; such are the memories of children versus adults. But for me, when I look back on all my years growing up, those were without question the happiest parts.

It’s been a long year. This pandemic has gone on for fifteen months. Fifteen months of long days and uncertainty and trauma. Fifteen months of working from home, in isolation, with work life not just bleeding into but overtaking home life. Fifteen months of parents asked to become full-time caregivers and preschool operators and homeschool teachers while also working fulltime jobs. Fifteen months of worry. Fifteen months without a break. Even those of us who were fortunate enough to take some time off, basically just moved from one part of the house to another, trying to avoid the room where all the work was. And, it’s not like this thing started in September, following three months of summer vacation. It started in March, as we were all already tired from months of work, mentally shifting towards the end of the academic year, looking forward to a break that never came.

It’s time for some intentional rest. We may no longer get a summer vacation (anyone who works in academia will tell stories about being asked by students, “What are you doing for spring break?” as if that’s a thing you get for the rest of your life), but we must find time to rest our minds and our bodies and our souls. We need to find a way to reset, because September is coming. And, we need to do this not only for ourselves, but for those who are watching us. What are we teaching others about how to treat us, and how to treat ourselves, when we do not take time for rest? What are we teaching our students? Mentoring is as much about role modeling behavior as it is anything else. If you consider yourself a mentor, a wise counselor, a guide, know that your actions matter as much as your words do.

Last week, as our seniors picked up their caps and gowns, we gave them a little gift we’ve been working on over here, our latest book called Year One: How New Professionals (And Their Managers) Can Thrive in Their First Job After College. It’s a guidebook for new graduates, walking through all those tricky topics from finding yourself in a new place, to figuring out work, to building relationships with colleagues, to navigating organizational politics and more. And, it’s a guidebook for anyone who is managing (or mentoring!) a new professional, because we know that this relationship can be the difference between a successful Year One and one that feels a bit disappointing.

The first year of anything is filled with emotions, new experiences, and new discoveries, and this is particularly true for those entering their post-college lives. There’s a lot that college gets you ready for, and in many ways, it has been working over the past four years to equip and prepare these new grads to be adults out in the world. And yet, we also know from much experience there are some pretty big gaps in that preparation, because there’s just a lot about work and life that is nothing at all like college.

There’s something about building a life and going to work that just has to be experienced. We can teach students to keep a budget, but it’s nothing like the feeling of managing your money all on your own for the first time. We can (and should) teach students how to set personal and professional goals. But it’s different when you’re at work, and no one’s telling you what to do or how to do it. We can (and do) tell students that relationships are important. But the experience of being on your own, in a new place, where you know no one, and have to figure out how to make friends, just feels different.

We know what’s about to happen over the next year, because we’ve been there, and we’ve spent a lot of time working with young professionals as they have experienced their own Year One. This is a year of transition, and transition is deeply personal. Even as these students walked across the stage with 1200 or so of their peers, they will experience this transition in their own ways, and on their own time. Which is exactly how it should be.

Welcome to week three in my series here addressing topics we used as part of a facilitated networking session between our Wake Forest Fellows and a group of their mentors a few weeks ago. These questions came from the Fellows themselves, who are in their very first post-college positions and getting ready to venture out into the world beyond Wake Forest for the first time. One area they wanted to learn some strategies for had to do with making career-related decisions. In other words, when you’re on the cusp of stepping into the rest of your life and it feels like the world is your oyster, how do you clarify what that next step should be, without making a misstep?

This is a pretty timely topic as I also sit here preparing for an Alumni Book Discussion group to talk about the book, Designing Your Life (more specifically, we’re going to talk about the Ted Talk about the book). I highly recommend it as a tool to figuring out career decisions, whether you’re just starting out or many years into your career. Because, as some of us know, these aren’t questions that stop popping up after you get that first job. Life is a series of choices and decisions, each of which inform the next. And the wonderful thing about that is that at some point you recognize that there is no such thing as a misstep. If you make a choice, and it takes you somewhere you discover you shouldn’t be, well, you make a different choice.

Of course, that makes it sound incredibly easy and like I believe that the world is, in fact, your oyster, and that there is just a universe of opportunities sitting out there for the taking. And anyone who knows me, knows that I fundamentally do NOT believe this. In fact, I believe that we have done an entire generation (if not multiple generations) a great disservice in feeding them a lifetime of platitudes that sound like, “you can do/be whatever you want.” Can you? Last time I checked, not even remotely. The truth of the matter is, there are hurdles for many of the things you might think you want to do. There are roles you will show aptitude for, and others you won’t. There are careers that will align with your strengths and interests, and others that won’t. The key is starting to discern which are which.

So, how do you figure out what’s next? Start by asking yourself some fundamental questions:

What do I do well? What are my strengths and interests, and how and when do they show up for me?

What do I like to do? How do I prefer to spend my time? When am I particularly motivated or on fire about what I’m doing?

What are the roles or careers that align with those things, above? What research can I do to start to figure that out?

Where am I willing to live, and what will I need to live there? What are my budget constraints and realities?

Who can help me to figure out what’s next? Who are those trusted mentors and wise counselors who can give me feedback on my choices?

Last week I shared that I was going to spend a few weeks addressing topics we used as part of a facilitated networking session between our Wake Forest Fellows and a group of their mentors. These questions came from the Fellows themselves, who are in their very first post-college positions and getting ready to venture out into the world beyond the University for the first time. One of the questions they raised, which is one I think we all are feeling right now, is how do I figure out work-life balance as a young professional?

For anyone who knows me, you know that I am pretty much the worst person to try to answer this question. If anything, the past thirteen months have highlighted some needed changes I need to make in the coming months, as the path that I am on is clearly not sustainable. Do I feel unhealthy? Not particularly. In fact, this pandemic has probably allowed me to be the healthiest I have been in a long time, as far as diet and exercise goes. And, I don’t think many of us can claim to have had much of a personal life, unless you were doing some things you shouldn’t have been. But as an off-the-charts introvert, staying home by myself and taking in a good amount of Netflix has been, well, pretty great. If there is anything I am dreading about re-entry into social life, it is the social part of things.

The problem is the work part of the equation. It’s easy enough to chalk this up to pandemic times, as I think many people have been working to the point of exhaustion, and we can, perhaps, look to a point in the not-too-distant future when that might change. And, maybe it will. However, experience tells me that even though the pandemic may come to an end, or at the very least get better, once you have made space in your room for additional work it doesn’t tend to revert back. You just keep making space. This is the problem with “it will get better when” thinking. It will get better when I have more seniority. It will get better when I get that promotion. It will get better when we come out of this pandemic. It almost never does. The work expands. It rarely contracts.

There is also a particular fallacy to the idea of “balance.” Balance implies a 50-50 deal, like the perfectly balanced seesaw. When we hold up “balance” as the ideal, we pretend that for every 8 hours of work we get 8 hours of life, and that’s simply not the way it happens. Sometimes you’ll get more work than life. Sometimes it will go the other way. You should, I think, strive for a balanced life, one that is multifaceted in terms of your interests, experiences, and communities. But aiming for some kind of ideal balance between work and life will set yourself up for failure.

So what, then, should the young professional do? There are no easy answers, because the best answer is, it depends. It depends on what you want out of life, and what you are willing to do to achieve it. Some people are strivers and achievers and are truly happy with a heavier load on the work side of the scale. Others are more “work to live” people, and want to tip that scale in the other direction. You need to take steps now to figuring out where you fall on that continuum. Ask yourself:

What is my motivation to work? Am I driven by more responsibility, higher title, more authority? Or is it more a means to an end or a way to fulfill something deeper with me that I might call purpose or calling?

What kind of life do I dream of? What does it look like and feel like? What would it take to make that dream a reality?

When I think about the times that my life felt most “balanced” for me, what did that look like? What strategies did I use, and how might I employ those, now?

What tools do I have available to me to make sure that my life doesn’t get too out-of-balance? Could I use my calendar more effectively? Are there things I am saying “yes” to, when I should be saying “no”? Can I find an accountability partner to keep me honest?

This past week I had the opportunity to facilitate some networking conversations between our Wake Forest Fellows and a group of their mentors. The Fellows are one year post-graduation and getting ready to step outside the walls of the university for the first time. And the mentors are senior administrative professionals from across the campus, with years of experience both within and outside of higher education. The Fellows crowdsourced some questions in advance, and they were so great I thought I would spend the next few posts exploring some of these topics, as they are certainly relevant to many if not all of us, myself included.

We started with this question of how one finds meaning and purpose in early professional roles, which sometimes don’t feel so meaningful. I’ve written on this topic at length, previously, and anyone who knows me knows that while I do think figuring out where you, personally, find meaning and purpose is important, seeking that from work can often be a fool’s errand. And, as the question implies, this is especially true in early roles. Seeking meaning from work puts a heavy burden on work to fulfill some kind of void. When we expect our jobs to give us meaning and purpose, it implies something transactional in nature, as if we’re just going to sit back and wait for the meaning to show up. And let me tell you right now: it won’t.

No matter your experience level, many jobs lack a bit of purpose. As much as I really enjoy my work, there are days that I ask myself, “What is the purpose of this?” There are days of aimless drifting. There are days, as Adam Grant noted in The New York Times last week, of languishing. During these Covid times, the days seem to bleed together, and the only thing breaking up work seems to be, well, more work. But that can be true during non-Covid times as well. The reality is, life is long (let’s hope) and when you’re staring down 40-50 years of work, there’s going to come a point when you’re going to ask yourself, “Why?”

That is, I believe, a great question. Why, indeed. Why do we work? We work to acquire money, to afford our lives, to feed and clothe and house ourselves. We work to make a positive contribution to our community. And, we work to give ourselves purpose. We work to put meaning to our lives, to have a reason for getting out of bed in the morning and going about our days. The trick is, not to look to work to give you that purpose. It’s to look to yourself, to figure out what your purpose is, and then figure out how your work connects to that. And if it doesn’t, then to make a change. It’s a subtle difference, but an important one.

And look, these first jobs? They’re not all sunshine and rainbows. They’re probably going to feel a lot like, well, work. That’s good. There’s a reason for that. These first jobs are your opportunity to ask yourself:

What do I like and not like about work?

What do I like and not like about how I’m being managed?

What do I like and not like about my work environment?

What do I like and not like about where I’m living and with whom I’m spending my time?

And then, importantly, what do I want to change?

If there is anything our students are working through right now, it’s a whole bunch of change. The past year-plus has been nothing but change, of course, and it’s reasonable to think they must be pros at it by now. And, perhaps they are. One would think they’ve acquired some coping tools and identified some strategies over the past year, just like the rest of us. But that doesn’t mean that it’s gotten any easier, or that new changes on the horizon will be smooth sailing for them. Over the next few months, they will be facing graduation, stepping into an uncertain job market, continued uncertainty about the pandemic, and more. As with the rest of life, there are no easy answers or simple rules to follow, here.

One of my favorite models for managing change comes from the organizational management expert William Bridges, who reminds us that change is an event, whereas transition is a process. Change is something that can be pointed to or named, like a global pandemic, or graduation, or starting a new job, or getting a new boss. Frequently it’s something that multiple people experience together. But transition is a deeply personal and individual process. It brings with it emotional, behavioral, and mental responses that are unique to each individual. If you are managing a change event, you ignore the individual responses to transition at your peril. And if you, as an individual, are experiencing a change event, you need to recognize where you are in the transition process.

Every transition process has three stages: an ending, a neutral zone, and a beginning. First the individual must actively let go of something, which may mean letting go of one’s identity, of rules and norms for behavior, of relationships and expectations. In the neutral zone they are in a bit of free-fall, not tied to anything. For some this can feel incredible freeing, while for others it can be scary and disorienting. And then, eventually, they must arrive at a new beginning and attach to new rules and norms, new expectations, find new relationships. Each change event requires going through the three stages of transition. But each individual goes through these three stages at different paces and with different emotions. Some will race through, eager for that new beginning, whereas others might hold back, clinging onto that ending for dear life, while still others will want to float for a bit in that neutral zone.

As mentors, we can help our students by talking to them about where they are in this process. How are they feeling about the change that is on the horizon? What are they worried about? What are they looking forward to? What might they need to let go of to move forward? What steps will they need to take to find that new beginning? These are great questions to ask to help them process what is happening right now, and how they are feeling.

Fans of a certain style of TV show will remember well the hit show Scandal from a few years back, and its main character, Olivia Pope. Not only was Olivia beautiful, assertive, powerful, smart, and known to rock a killer wardrobe, drawing the attentions of quite a few people including the President of the United States, she was a fixer. Her job was to clean up problems. Whenever someone high-profile had made a complete mess of things, they hired Olivia to come in and clean it up, to solve the problems, to make whatever it was go away.

I think we all, at some point of another, would love to avail ourselves of a fixer. Certainly (hopefully!) our problems never reach Olivia Pope-level of need, but in our day-to-day lives, there comes a point where we all think, if only. If only I could just give this to someone else to fix. If only there was someone who could just take care of this and make it go away, so I don’t have to think about it anymore. But, of course, in real life that person rarely exists. Indeed, one of the key elements of adulthood is learning how to fix your own problems and to clean up your own messes.

In mentoring relationships, it’s often tempting to try to be the fixer. Most of us have a natural inclination towards helping people, and those of us who take on mentoring roles are especially inclined to do so. We don’t like to see other people fail. But, when we put on our fixer hat, we rob the other person of some critical life skills and experiences that are needed for growth and learning. And, we unfairly burden ourselves by taking on someone else’s problems as our own.

One of the best things that mentors can do is to be a connector, not a fixer. Instead of saying, “let me fix that for you,” say, “let me connect you to a resource that I know.” Instead of saying, “let me stop you before you make a mistake,” say, “what do you think would happen if you took that next step?” Instead of thinking, “I am the only person in the world who can possibly do anything about this,” think, “how will this other person benefit if I introduced them to someone else who could help?”

A week or so ago I came across this piece in The Washington Post, with the enticing title: After a Year of Covid Life, We’ve Run Out of Things to Talk About. How true is that? Even in our work meetings, where, at the very least, we should have work things to discuss, the small talk has gone pretty stale. Or, we’ve moved into a stage where some people are out and about and doing things, while others either are still too nervous to do so or feeling strong disapproval towards those who do. There’s not a lot of common ground to be found in a conversation that starts with, “let me tell you about the fabulous vacation I just took,” and ends with, “I think you’re a terrible human making awful decisions.”

There is something important that happens in the water cooler conversations, the informal coffee chats, and the catch-up phone calls and happy hours that sustain us during non-Covid times, something we need now more than ever. These interactions are how we build connection and relationships, work through problems and challenges, ask for help and support others, and exercise our emotional muscles. It’s through conversation that we debrief our experiences and gather feedback. We may feel like we’ve run out of things to talk about, now, but it’s critically important that we do keep talking, keep showing up, and keep engaging in conversation.

The Washington Post article linked above gathers tips from three experts on how to keep conversation going during this time when everyone feels pretty low on energy and topics. In addition to those, here are three of my favorites, from three of my favorite Wake Forest people:

Actively Prepare. Before any meeting or conversation, my friend and colleague Megan Hoyt, Assistant Director, Mentoring & Alumni Personal & Career Development, writes down her thoughts about what she hopes to learn from the other person, what she knows about them, and any questions she might want to ask. This is such a simple, intentional practice that demonstrates a level of care for the other person, their experience, and their time.

Ask Thoughtful Questions. My friend Matthew Phillips, Associate Teaching Professor in the School of Business, advises people to always think, “what is the most interesting thing I could learn from this person?” In other words, the questions you ask in a conversation with President Hatch are not, and should not be, the same questions you would ask in a question with me. We have very different roles, perspectives, and life experiences. Be thoughtful about what you ask of people.

But Don’t Overthink It. My friend Melissa Clodfelter, Assistant VP, Faculty and Staff Experience, once said in a joint workshop we were leading, “As long as I stay in a place of natural curiosity, I will always ask the right question.” This is a phrase that has stuck with me for years. It can be easy to get caught up in the idea of asking the “right” or “best” question, when there is no such thing. The right question comes from a place of active listening and staying naturally curious about other people and their experiences. Do that work and you will always ask the right question.

I was in a meeting this week (a planning meeting, ironically enough) and one of my colleagues asked the group if anyone else was feeling unmotivated these days. “I just feel like I’ve hit a wall. Is anyone else feeling that way, or is it just me?” In rapid fire, the rest of us jumped in, sharing our stories and feelings. Everyone, it seems, has hit a wall. There is no going around, no going over, no pushing through. We’re just, stuck.

This is, let’s recognize, a normal feeling. It’s been, to put it mildly, a year. Many of us have been pushing forward at 110 percent or more, working seven days a week, trying to be all things to all people, without a break. Add on top of that add in worries about one’s health, the health of loved ones, the health of our country, and many other concerns, and there’s no wonder people are breaking down. We aren’t meant to work like this or to live like this. It’s OK to “power through” for a time, but eventually, something has to give.

I’m a runner (OK, I’m a jogger), and I like to run races for fun and motivation. I like the planning process, the setting of a goal and working to achieve it. It works for my brain and is great for my fitness. Sometimes in races, runners will hit the wall, which means they’ve lost energy and feel like there is simply no way they can take another step forward. Sometimes this feeling can be overcome by just continuing to move, refueling, or taking a brief rest. But sometimes this is a sign that you are about to drop. The wisdom comes in knowing the difference, wisdom that is gained from experience.

We need to recognize that many of our students also are hitting a wall right now. They, too, are conditioned to keep pushing forward, to keep showing up to class, to keep putting one foot in front of the other. A lot has been asked of our students this past year, with zero preparation for the circumstances in which they found themselves. It’s easy to assume, as a generation that has grown up with screens in front of their faces, that online learning would be a breeze. It’s easy to assume that with a little tweaking they would be able to adjust their behavior to these new circumstances. I, too, have been guilty of saying in exasperation, “Just stay home, study, get a 4.0!” As if I wasn’t once twenty years old. As if I would have done so, myself. It’s like we’ve asked them to run a marathon in the middle of a hurricane with no training and no refueling stations along the way.

In a good year, our students lack some of the fundamental decision-making skills that help them to get unstuck. That’s not because they aren’t capable, they just haven’t had the experience, nor have they been given the tools. Sometimes the best thing we can do for them is to help them to lessen the pressure, to help them to put a plan together, to help them to see that not everything has to happen today or even this week, but if they just do one thing, take one step forward, it can be the refueling that they need. And this isn’t a good year. We all could do a better job of checking in on people, seeing how they are doing, making sure that they’re not about to drop.

Over the past four weeks, I have led a conversation with a group of lovely, smart, deeply-reflective Wake Forest alumni about the book No Hard Feelings: The Secret Power of Embracing Emotions at Work by Liz Fosslien and Mollie West Duffy (aka LizandMollie). This is a gem of a book, which was recommended to me by yet another Wake Forest alumna, and it was such a treat to work through it with some fellow Deacs. I highly recommend it to anyone thinking about work, about management, and about their place within the organizational structure.

One of the topics the authors discuss is the need for “psychological safety” for teams to be effective. People on these teams “felt they could suggest ideas, admit mistakes, and take risks without being embarrassed by the group” (p.109). It’s of particular importance for those working to build diverse teams. Do your people (or do you) feel that they can speak up, suggest ideas no matter how far-fetched, and take risks? How comfortable are people with vulnerability?

This recent piece in the New York Times, Why Is It So Hard to Speak Up At Work?, goes even deeper into the impacts of psychological safety, in particular for women and people of color, because when you’re one of a few or one of the only people like you in an organization, you automatically feel less safe. Those organizations and teams without psychological safety not only shut down individual ideas and contributions, they impact the entire organization or team’s ability to be successful. Teams and organizations with psychological safety, meanwhile “have a higher chance of innovation, growth and expansion and better collaboration, trust and inclusion.”

Mentoring relationships, just like teams, require psychological safety to be successful. If a mentee doesn’t feel like they can speak up, admit their mistakes, challenge the feedback of the mentor, and feels like they must hold themselves back for fear of being judged or disliked, no progress will be made, and it can be damaging to the mentee mentally and emotionally.

I am a firm believer in intentional network-building. Strong networks help you, not only when it comes to job search time, but also for personal guidance, getting over the impostor syndrome, building confidence, and a whole host of other things. You do the work of network-building not when you need something, but months and even years before. Why? Because network-building is relationship-building, and relationship-building takes time and intentional work.

One great way to build your network is to ask someone to introduce you to someone else in their network, or for you to serve as that connector between people. And one thing I’ve learned over the years is that there is a right way and a wrong way, to make these sorts of introductions. Let’s look at some examples (I’m going to use myself and my colleague Megan in these examples, even though we already work together. Pretend we don’t know each other.).

First, let’s look at the wrong way. Sometimes I’m on the receiving end of an introduction that looks like this, with both myself and Megan copied on an email:

“Hi Allison, I’d like to introduce you to Megan, who is interested in talking to you about her career path and next steps. Thanks for taking the time to help her out!”

So, what’s wrong with this? First, this introduction has hit me cold, and now you have put me in the position of having to respond, without finding out, first, if I’m willing or even have the time to have this conversation. Which means I either look incredibly rude when I say no or (worse) ignore this, or I say yes and am left feeling very disrespected. On top of which, you are making me do most of the work, here. I don’t know who Megan is, I don’t know why I should talk to her, and I don’t know why I am the right person to talk to her.

Remember: network-building is relationship-building. Even if you are playing the part of connector, you are either building relationships or breaking them down. In this example, now I am predisposed to think less of the person being introduced (Megan), and I’m not a big fan of you, either.

Ok, then, what’s the right way? In this example, there are two parts. First, you reach out to me:

“Hi Allison, hope you’re doing well! I was so excited to see that you are leading a session in the Wake Women’s Week. I’ve grabbed my spot!

I’m also reaching out to see if you would be willing to talk to a friend of mine. Megan is a fellow Wake Forest alum, currently working in fundraising, who is looking to make a career pivot. She shares interests in mentoring and young professional development, and I think would benefit greatly from hearing about your path and any advice you might offer. Would you be willing to talk to her? If so, I will make an introduction. Thanks so much for considering!”

What do you see here? First, you’ve made a connection to me and something that’s important to me, and made it clear that you’re not just asking something of me, you’re also giving something to me. While that’s not critical, it’s certainly a nice touch. Second, you have given me the information that I need: why you are reaching out, what I need to know about Megan, why you think I would be a good connection for her. And, third, you have offered to do the work of making the introduction. All of this makes me so much more inclined to say “yes.” But, if I have to say no, due to time commitments or other reasons, you allow me to do so just to you, which prevents me from coming off like a jerk and also saves you from looking like a jerk to your contact, Megan, as well.

Ok, but let’s imagine I say “yes.” Then there is a second part, which is the actual introduction, where both Megan and I are copied:

“Hi Megan, by way of this email I would like to introduce you to my good friend and colleague Allison. Allison is the assistant vice president for mentoring and alumni personal and career development here at Wake Forest, a Wake Forest alumna, and has 25 years of experience in higher education, mentoring, and young professional development. I reached out to her and asked if she would be willing to talk to you about your path and next steps, and of course she said yes.

 Allison, as I mentioned, Megan is looking to pivot from her current fundraising role into something more aligned with mentoring and young professional development. She’s got great experience and a passion for growth and development, and I know will benefit tremendously from any advice you can offer to her as she identifies her next steps.

Megan, please reach out to Allison to find a time that works for both of you. You might also attach your resume so that she has a bit more information about you. Thanks, and thanks again Allison!”

Again, what do you see? You have given both Megan and me the background on what each knows about the other and the reason for the meeting. You have linked to our LinkedIn profiles for some additional information, and not made either one of us have to do that extra work. And you’ve provided guidance on next steps: Megan should send the next email to arrange a time to meet and send along a resume.