The Value of Female Mentors

When I was a young beginning teacher, I was lost and overwhelmed. I spent days trying to simply stay on top of classroom management and spent entire evenings trying to work; well, if one could call it that. More accurately, I spent hours with papers and binders splayed all over my living room thinking about working and wondering where to start. Executive functioning not at its finest. Hours later each evening, I was splayed out myself in my bed exhausted. How was one to manage the learning curve, along with learning styles, authoritative styles, and new curriculum? At any given moment, I felt that I needed a battle cry, the patience of a saint, a good night’s sleep, and a bottle of wine. In what order, always remained to be seen. 

The word flounder is a Dutch derivative: a combination of words flodderen, which means "to flop about," and blunder, which means "do something clumsy." In the beginnings of my career, I was both personified. I felt I was playing a game, and was in an adult world, that I didn't fully understand the rules to. 

I watched experienced teachers carefully, hoping to glean a few tips from one, or a few tricks from another. What I really needed was a female mentor. There were no formal mentoring programs in education, such as there now. One experienced teacher many moons ago, I aspired to be just like. Most are familiar with Goldilocks, the nursery rhyme. Equally, it is a fitting analogy for teaching styles. Goldilocks approaches the first bowl of porridge, the first little chair, and the first bed up the stairs, trying out each at its turn until she finds the one that is just right. Such is parenting, teaching, and leading. We must find our individual styles as teachers, mothers, and leaders; otherwise we are simply playing a role or trying out a persona—one that might not fit well. 

I learned early in my career that some teachers were incredibly authoritarian, steering their ships with glacial equanimity. I knew that could never be me: I needed to be more laid back and to be seen. I needed to be fair and glean respect because I delivered it. I needed to be comfortable in my own skin as I governed my own troupe, or little ship of pupils, and a model for this I found in Joanne. 

I inspected her interactions carefully at every turn. One day, I heard her laugh with her students, then effectively direct their attention back to the lesson at hand. Over time, I became comfortable enough to ask for her advice. Now that I am in the final year of my career, I avail myself often to younger staff—and am often called upon. Sometimes it is to dispense guidance of a personal nature, but frequently this guidance is of a professional nature. 

Just last month, another experienced teacher and I had invited three young female colleagues for drinks after work. Our colleagues were delighted, and when one was running late, I ran back into the building only to find her sobbing at her desk. “How on earth have you done this for almost thirty years?” she asked, half-query, half lament. I stayed, I listened, I coached. Drinks with the others would have to wait. 

I am retiring next year and another 60 million baby boomers in North America are projected to retire over the next 10 years. Females in advisory roles or senior positions in their careers possess a wide body of skills and institutional knowledge that needs to be passed down. Essentially this is termed knowledge transfer, more colloquially known as passing the torch. Female mentors are inevitably instrumental in this process and organizations and individuals must recognize this. Whether it is a listening ear one needs, or a new strategy or skill one must develop, in my humble opinion, we are best served by female mentors.