4 Chapter Four: “Somebody has your back”: What I learned from Mentors, Mentoring, and Networking

Like the writers in the previous chapters, this chapter’s student authors found themselves by reaching out to mentors (e.g., elders, educators) and being mentors themselves. For student authors Lara and Narruhn, this happened in high school in two vital ways: Latino Leadership (i.e., high school programs that train Latinxs to be student leaders) solved Lara’s sense of loneliness; and an inspiring and demanding English teacher persuaded Narruhn that he could escape poverty through education. Additionally, student author Engstrom locates his success at PSU in the support he received from family and the networking experiences he received from peers and his PSU community (e.g., faculty, career advisers). In contrast, Winchester found a deep sense of purpose and meaning through his service work with vulnerable children. The co-editors traced an essential theme around in their stories—that to find joy and community, we should be mentored and be a mentor.

Definition of Terms

Mentors. At PSU, who is a mentor is defined in two ways. OSCAR. Use Dannelle Stevens definitions of mentoring. Add the UNST definition of who is a mentor.

Networking. Find definition. Formal and informal networking.

Aineias Engstrom

Some Thoughts on Support (upon Graduating from University)

I’m not usually one to boast about my accomplishments, but I’m confident enough to say that I succeeded at Portland State. Not only did I meet many wonderful people who have had a meaningful impact on my life, but I also graduated summa cum laude and gained important professional experience by completing three internships in Portland. These achievements put me in a position to attend graduate school in Switzerland.

I don’t mean to toot my own horn by calling my time as an undergraduate a success. I mean to set the scene to discuss an important realization that I took away from my three-and-a-half years at PSU. Namely, why I was able to succeed.

I was able to succeed because I had a tremendously strong and dedicated support structure that helped me every step along the way: my aunt, uncle, and grandparents here in Oregon; my parents from abroad; advisers, classmates, and professors at PSU itself. I felt supported by more people than I could have imagined during my time in Portland.

Yes, I worked hard. I looked for internships. I was bright-eyed and eager to build relationships. I understood how to put the puzzle pieces together to succeed. But only because I was given the time and space to figure it out. I got internships because my family supported me financially, so I could work twenty hours a week without pay. I produced good work because I felt like people had my back and wanted me to succeed. And I became eager to build relationships because people’s kindness allowed me to overcome my social anxiety, at least on most days.

Throughout my time as an undergraduate, I realized more and more the privilege of having such an extensive and committed support structure. I benefited tremendously from it, both materially (having my basic needs met) and emotionally (receiving affirmation for my hard work from family, friends, and colleagues). But it also became clear to me that having such a support structure is not necessarily normal for PSU students. Two of the smartest and most kind-hearted classmates I met were forced to quit school because they could no longer pay tuition costs. Both of them also had troubled relationships with their families and couldn’t count on them for much support. And I encountered many more people who didn’t have the support structure they needed to overcome problems ranging from trauma and loneliness to food insecurity and houselessness.

As somebody who was empowered by a group of people I could count on, my main message to readers is that we need to provide whatever support we can to each other, especially if we ourselves enjoy the privilege of support. There are many different means of showing we care and each of us has something to contribute to somebody else’s well-being. I’ll be the first to say that I need to do more, but I’ve also come to realize that it isn’t a competition. Encouraging and helping each other starts with simple gestures like complimenting someone for a job well done or listening to them when they want to share something about their lives. The freshman and sophomore inquiry courses at PSU gave me chances to do that because they are more interactive, and they build more community than most other classes. I tried to take up those chances and I was rewarded with friendships that have stayed strong even once I left Portland.

While there are types of support that nobody should have to ask for (such as food or housing), it can also be important to overcome hesitation about asking for help when we need it. It can feel intimidating or even disempowering to ask for support. But oftentimes, people are willing to help us, they just don’t know exactly how–so we have to let them know. It’s true that I come from a privileged position in society that makes it relatively easy for me to overcome this hesitation. But I want to encourage everyone with access to a support structure to use it, to push past the hesitation to ask a friend to listen, to go to SHAC (Student Health & Counseling) for help, or to open up to your student adviser. Because knowing that somebody has your back is crucial for our success and our emotional and physical well-being. I believe we all need help, and most of us also want to help others.

Cesar Ventura Lara

My Second Home: Latino Leadership

For three to four months, I had the same routine. Get up, go to school, go home, and do homework. My schedule was simple, yet bland, missing climactic moments like my peers were having. Nonetheless, I was just starting high school and had no “zest” in my social life. The only people (or “friends”) at the time that I would talk to would be table partners and lunchmates. I was feeling friendless. But it was the start of high school, and I was still getting to know the school and the diverse people that filled it, which was fun but lonely. At the end of the day, I didn’t just want to be just another follower, trying to fit in, but be an individual who had a group that was like himself and shared his radical ideas for fun to throw a laugh, or two.

As my first semester as a freshman drew to an end, I was still understanding myself and where I belonged. My mother on the other hand was impatient and wanted me to join a sport, but personally, I didn’t have an interest in sports, so I did what most students did, join a club. And for the following two weeks, I was scanning those club pamphlets endlessly, like scanners scanning packages, trying my best to find a club that best fit what I was looking for. And then I found it, my new home: Latino Leadership.

As I walked into my first club meeting I was filled with climactic emotions, but when I heard the beautiful accents from all over Latino America my nervousness started to soothe away. They (the accents) sounded strange yet familiar to my ear; And as I approached the nearest table, I saw students playing Loteria, Basta, and classic Hispanic card games. I could also smell and see amazing dishes students volunteered to bring in, such as savory foods (like tamales and pupusas), Latin sweets (such as conchas and canelitas), and your classic mother’s homestyle dishes. After a minute of sitting in my seat and reflecting, I knew that Latino Leadership was a place where I belonged, where I could share pieces of myself and my beliefs without being judged—as well as hearing other individuals’ goals and their journeys of finding who they are in this confusing world.

As days, weeks, and months passed, I learned about the rich history Latin America possesses, how our native lands gained independence, the wars each country fought, and the challenge each beautiful country encountered. My understanding flourished, and I connected better with peers. Craving more and more each time, I stepped into the classroom every week. But my freshman year came to an end, and I became a sophomore. However, I wanted to be more involved. I wanted to make more friends, be more social, and “get out there,” as some might say. I wanted to help students who were just as lost as I was my freshman year. And every time I would go to the meeting. I would give 110% of myself to the club. And when the moment felt right, I was ready to go forward and decided to give even more of myself to Latino Leadership.

Near the end of my sophomore year, Latino Leadership was starting up their race for a new president, and when I heard that, I started my campaign for presidency right away. My main focus was to make Aloha freshmen and students feel safe and have a non-judgmental place to express themselves and feel free. I desired to be a voice for students, and their “stone to lean on” when they needed it most. And most importantly, I wanted to make sure no other student felt the way I felt my first months being an Aloha student. As my campaign was doing well, it came to an end, like most things, and when it did, I experienced many emotions due to having no clue what might come. When the week of voting was approaching, it felt like an eternity, mainly because I was frightened that I did too much, that people found me annoying or that I did too little, that people felt I was not ready to be their president. After everything though, when the day the results were announced, I told myself that I was not going to get picked so I wouldn’t feel bad when my peers voted me “not ready.” But when the votes were announced, the total opposite of what I was expecting happened; the students voted for me, I didn’t know how to feel, emotions flew right at me from the left and right. But at last, a rush of relief and gratitude arose from my heart. Importantly I knew then and there that I would be “that stone” for some individuals and “the voice” for others. I was feeling more included than anyone could ask for.

Finally, during my years at Aloha, I might have been lost and confused at first, but in the end, I got to be more than what I was looking for. I just wanted a place to belong, but instead, I got to be a leader and a listener for students who were and still are lost. With that, I did not become a follower, like mentioned, but instead I became a leader and educator (in my way), with the heart and compassion focused on a brighter and more inclusive future. I wanted to break those internal exclusive barriers some might experience when heading to high school. Nonetheless, Aloha High school will be in my heart forever, especially the moment and connections I got to make during my time there, especially in Latino Leadership. And who knows, maybe my time there caused a ripple effect that might continue for years to come.

Stenar Narruhn

My Story

Both of my parents are immigrants born in the Federated States of Micronesia, on a small island in the Pacific ocean. They got married when they were young, in their early twenties. With little money, they decided to move to the United State of America in 1998. They sought out better opportunities and a better place to raise a family. Arriving in the U.S.did not solve all their problems as they had expected. They were working at low-paying jobs, and they soon had me and my older brother. Without a college education and two kids to take care of and one on the way, my parents depended heavily on the government and family members for assistance. I lived in government housing in Waikiki,the poor side of the beautiful island of Oahu. At the time I did not know that my family was poor. I  did not know that my grandma, who was tasked to watch my sibling and me when my parents were at work, also lived in government housing. I did not know that my dad was an alcoholic, which caused my mom a lot of stress. I was in kindergarten at that time. I had nothing but fun memories of playing at my grandma’s house.

When I was six, my parents decided that moving to the mainland was the best thing to do financially. With no opportunities in Hawaii, we left my grandma and Hawaii behind for the cold, rainy state of Oregon. We lived with my cousins for a while, until my parents could afford to move us into an apartment. Things were good then. We had our place, and my parents had steady jobs. All that ended when the lease on our apartment ran out. My parents were not prepared. This was the lowest point in my life. My parents could not find a place fast enough. We ended up living in a one-bedroom motel for a couple of months.

The motel smelled of cigarettes for some reason, which made our clothes smell like cigarettes. I was so embarrassed about going to school, fearing someone would get a whiff of my clothes. I could not even play outside, fearing that someone would find out where I lived. My siblings and I slept on the same bed. It was not ideal. The stove was broken, so we only ate processed microwaved food. We rarely got a home-cooked meal. I hated it, I hated it all. I focused my hatred toward my parents. I thought that if they were just smart and went to school and got a degree they would have good-paying jobs and we wouldn’t have to be in this dump. I was an angry kid back then. I used my anger toward my current lifestyle as

Motivation

To be better, more specifically, to try harder in school. I knew my parents never got degrees, but they instilled how important pursuing your education is in me and my siblings. I knew that the only way to have the life I always dreamed of was to do good in school. Luckily, I met a wonderful teacher who inspired me to pursue my goal of a better life through education. In the tenth grade of high school everyone had to take a composition writing class taught by a very strict teacher. Her name was Mrs. Langdahl. She was notorious for having these “essay days” where students had to write multiple-page essays, in class. Mind you, the class period was fifty minutes long. I went on the first day super nervous and scared. I knew that I could achieve what the teacher expected of me. But, the first day I realized that the teacher was not as scary as everyone had stated. True, Mrs. Langdahl had high expectations for all the students. She believed that each of her students had the potential to become a great writer if we worked hard enough. Mrs. Langdalhl was a great teacher. She taught us how to improve our writing using different types of sentences and taught us how to use punctuation properly. What I was inspired by the most was her humble backstory that she shared with the class. She was homeless as a child. She took the bus everywhere because her family did not have a car. She stated that education was her chance to change her life. She preached the positive effects of an education. She had benefited from it herself. She said that even though she was homeless and struggling at home she did not give up at school. She grinded in school no matter what. She made it her goal to perform well in school and get a degree to then have a great paying job. And that is what she did. She got her undergrad and masters degree at Portland State University and multiple other masters degrees from various other colleges. She has become a great teacher and now has the comfortable life she has always wanted.  Mrs. Langdahl preached that education can help you succeed in life. No matter what success means for you, education would help you to get there.

I related to her story a lot. I did not have the most stable life at home, but I could change that. I could let education be an outlet and a gateway to a better life for myself and my family. Just like Mrs. Langdahl, I could turn my life around for the better. I was truly inspired by her story. From that point on, I tried my best in school.

In Mrs. Langdahl class, especially. I made sure to listen in class and sharpen my writing skills. By the end of the term I had written five essays and truly sharpened my writing skills. I learned how to write compound and complex sentences. The “essay days” were nerve-wracking, but they definitely improved my essay-writing skills. The essays I wrote after that point sounded finer. I still use the skills I learned in the composition class today, as a college student. I improved as a student after that point. I made sure my relationships with my teachers were great as well. I had made it my goal to finish high school with a good grade point average so I could get into college. That was my main goal at the time. I wanted to go to college to get a degree and then hopefully get a good-paying job. I hear that Mrs. Langdahl is now a principal at a middle school. That inspires me even more. Even now in her old age, she strives to level up in her career. As for me, I am still pursuing my goal to get a degree in business. I believe that going to school and getting a degree will lead to me having a high-paying job so I will never live in a cheap motel ever again. I will never see my mom stress about not having enough money to pay the bills. I will never go to sleep hungry again. I will never see my dad work a fourteen-hour shift every day. I will have a good life and take care of my family.

Michael Winchester, Jr.

On Service, Loss, and Vulnerability

Over the course of my time as an undergraduate at Portland State University, I experienced a wide variety of personal transformations. Some that were voluntary, some that were almost completely out of my hands, and some that were situated somewhere in between the two. After all, being a student trying to traverse the precarious conundrum of choosing a career path, while actually sticking with it, has been something that has plagued me since the beginning of college. My choice to major in psychology was essentially a catch-all approach to combating that. When I entered college, I had a fairly general idea of where my skill sets lay, yet I was not confident in what sort of environment they were best applied. Even though I tend to be a much more introverted person, forming authentic and personal relationships has always been a powerful motivator. Working closely one-on-one with people just comes natural to me. Still, I was unsure what majoring in psychology would lead me to doing outside of the classroom. Luckily, that all began to change for me through service work in the Freshman Inquiry class I took during my freshman year at Portland State in 2017-2018: Immigration, Migration, and Belonging.

I enrolled in the course without much knowledge of what the class would look like and, primarily, because I was not sure what else to take at the time. In retrospect, I would not say I was overly enthused with my choice. This was especially the case when the initial idea of volunteering outside of the classroom was brought to my attention. Growing up, I had not done service work for my community, in the way that this class was encouraging, so there is no other way around it but to say that I was absolutely nervous for what was to come. Would I be effective in helping others at this point in my life? Would people be receptive to me? These were all doubts that began to emerge and cloud my expectations.

At the start of Winter term of that year, I began volunteering at Earl Boyles Primary School in the David Douglas School District. Of all the presented options of places to volunteer at, I figured that younger kids would be easier to work with. I was not familiar with the school or area, but that did not play a role in my decision.

When the first day of volunteering finally arrived, I nonchalantly hopped on the bus behind my freshman-year dormitory and embarked on the 30-minute bus eastbound on Powell Boulevard. It was not until the bumpy bus ride was already in full swing that I noticed the butterflies in my stomach and an anxiously shaking leg bouncing up and down. At this stage in my life, this was quite outside my comfort zone. I had developed a bad tendency of coasting through life, often doing the bare minimum. Pushing myself to mentally gear up for this was a challenge in and of itself. Once it was time for me to get off the bus, I was greeted by a Portland that was alien to me. The stop itself was a narrow, muddied-up path parallel to the busy street traffic and alongside a few used-car lots. Having grown up in a suburb outside of Portland, I was indoctrinated with the idea that this area of the Eastside was sketchy and dangerous. Unfortunately, those bleak stereotypical preconceptions further hindered my comfort as I marched onwards.

As soon as I arrived at Earl Boyles, I immediately began to feel a bit more at ease. Shortly after arriving, I was assigned to assist in a classroom of 5th graders. Most of all, I was tasked with focusing on two students who had struggled academically and socially throughout the year. I had never been in a position where impressionable kids were looking up to me for advice and guidance. I wanted to do a good job, but that nagging fear of failure increased my anxiety. Furthermore, the two students I was to focus on were deemed by the school to be “challenging” students. More doubts in myself quickly followed. What could I do or say to be a positive influence in these kids’ lives? How was I qualified enough to support them?

Pushing myself to physically be there the first day was undeniably the hardest part in the process. Once I began to meet a few of the kids, learn about the school, and see what I was potentially capable of, my optimism grew. I suppose that feeling is relevant to most new opportunities in life. When we initially place ourselves in a state of relative discomfort, growth becomes a real possibility. If we never take the gamble, we risk stagnating where we are. I know this has been true for myself in the past. The push from my Freshman Inquiry course was exactly what I needed at that period of my life.

With my outlook improving, getting to spend time in the classroom and introduce myself to the students instantaneously overrode the initial anxieties that had built up.  Many of the doubts that existed only in my head were dispelled by the warm smiles and friendliness of the students towards me. Any doubt over whether or not I was qualified to help the students became irrelevant, as the kids certainly treated me as if I was fit for the job. It became apparent that these students were happy to just have somebody there to connect with and feel seen by. I was not there to judge them based on their standardized test scores or if they turned in their homework on time. It became clear to me that being a positive and open figure, especially for a vulnerable population, was something that gave me a great sense of fulfillment and purpose. In addition, it showed me the critical importance of supporting young people and raising them up to be their best selves. Every child deserves to be heard and given that chance to succeed. I think this is a concept that has quietly fallen to the wayside in our exam, score-based education system.

As time passed, I began to form greater connections with the students I had been working with. The trust that developed between myself and those students really helped me settle in and improved my ability to understand what these students needed from me. One of the two students was someone who struggled to make friends and fit in with his peers. I realized he needed someone to help facilitate his involvement with the other students. So, both he and I would join in with the others during group classwork sessions or during the hyper-competitive basketball games at recess. Not too long after working with him, he was noticeably more chatty with his peers and was playing games with everyone else without me there alongside him. To my surprise, it was a quick and gradual improvement for the student. It helped solidify the idea in my mind that humans just need that initial opportunity to push themselves. Not until long after my volunteering did I realize my experience was no different. My Freshman Inquiry course was that initial opportunity that pushed me, and without it, I would not have ever done this type of work. The other student I focused on struggled academically throughout his time at the school, but had the largest academic improvement of any student in the 5th grade by the end of the year.

It finally clicked for me. My experience at Earl Boyles was overwhelmingly transformative because, for the first time, I had put myself in a position to start identifying the sort of work I wanted to do. I loved working with kids, and now saw that I was definitely capable as well.

The following year, I began working at the Boys and Girls Club of Portland, largely inspired by my growing confidence and recent experience at Earl Boyles. The elementary school I was working at was a strikingly similar environment to Earl Boyles. This made the early days of the job far less intimidating than my time volunteering. My time with the Boys and Girls Club helped me continue to find purpose and improve my abilities in working with kids. Just like at Earl Boyles, this period of work showed me that kids are the individuals who require focused interpersonal support the most. Many of the kids I worked with had difficult home lives, deep-rooted trauma, and other issues that were not always visible or able to be addressed by a teacher in a normal 30-student classroom. This idea alone resides at the core of what I want to do with my psychology background. My mission is to emotionally support those of us who feel unsupported and unseen. I want to give that chance to everyone I encounter.

Aside from a career, my evolution from nervous college freshman to an advocate for students of all sorts of backgrounds has helped transform me into a better person. It taught me the importance of giving back to the community and those who need it most. At the end of the day, every person has their own extremely unique story that deserves to be heard. I view all people’s issues as valid and worth finding solutions for. If a person is voicing concerns or acting in a concerning way, there is likely a story that first needs to be understood in order to support them the best way possible.

Having a conscious awareness and empathetic approach towards those around me are not foreign concepts to my life, but certainly were not utilized as often until I was put in a position to implement them. The first person to show these values to me was my mother. She was a school teacher before I was born and lived her life with an unmatched gratitude and thoughtfulness towards those around her. Sadly, she passed away in 2019 while battling a second round of aggressive terminal colorectal cancer. She was originally diagnosed with stage 4 cancer when I was only in 5th grade, so her battle with cancer and the fight for her life was something that always played a role in my development. One of the major things I took away from the many years when she struggled through chemotherapy, radiation, and being bed-ridden was how her spirit and optimism continued to prevail. In the face of death, she remained focused on checking in with others, giving to others when she could, and living a lifestyle that encouraged peace and happiness for all of those around her. Having a first-hand view of this battle really transformed the way I looked at life. It provided me with a whole new perspective. How could somebody, whose chances of surviving seemed so bleak remain so positive and filled with gratitude? Moreover, it helped me understand that if she, in her poor health, could remain living with such compassion for the world, then it was completely possible for me to do the same.

My mother’s years-long fight to live also taught me to get in touch with my vulnerabilities and appreciate the unseen vulnerabilities of those around me. Growing up, my peers at school did not know what I was going through at home. It felt as though there was a second, contrary life going on behind the cheery Michael they knew at school. We never know someone’s whole story just from an initial glance or what we assume to be true for someone else. It is easy to write people off with blanket judgments, such as not being smart enough or too shy to make friends at school. The kids I worked closely with at Earl Boyles serve as a critical reminder of that. Just because they may have had external forces challenging their ability to succeed academically or fit in socially, does not mean they are incapable of shining and flourishing when given the space and tools to do so. We are all unique individuals with our own exceptional stories. That’s simply how we must treat all of those around us.

I am grateful for the platform to tell my experiences and for those of you who have read this piece. If there are any primary takeaways from this, I would say to allow yourself to be open to opportunities that push yourself out of your comfort zone, give back to those around you in the best way possible, and live with a conscious awareness of the fact that we do not know everything about everyone. There is always more to people than meets the eye. I still have a lot to learn and figure out, but I’m optimistic for the future, as these principles act as a light to illuminate the path ahead of me.