How Mentors Can Embrace Kids Who Are Different

Opening Story

The room was full, but it grew quieter the moment George, the leader of a local nonprofit, stood up.

It was one of those nights where people had gathered to talk about impact, progress, and the future. There were leaders in the room, donors, community members, and people who cared deeply about helping young people. I expected a polished presentation. I expected big numbers, big vision, and a few well-told stories.

Instead, George talked about Jesus.

He did not make it dramatic. He did not try to impress anyone. He simply spoke with clarity about what he believed, why it mattered, and how it shaped the way he saw people. Then he prayed.

Something about that moment stayed with me. It was not just the confidence of his faith. It was the way his words matched his posture. George was not trying to control the room or win anyone over. He was simply present, honest, and deeply committed to seeing people as more than their circumstances.

Later, as I thought about that night, I realized how easy it is for mentors to walk into a young person’s life with assumptions already formed. We see behavior. We see a neighborhood. We see a family dynamic. We see a way someone talks, dresses, responds, or shuts down. And before we ever hear their story, we can quietly decide what they need.

But the longer I mentor, the more I realize this: when I stop listening, I stop loving.

The Core Problem

I have made this mistake more times than I would like to admit. I walk into a mentoring relationship wanting to help, guide, and bring something valuable to the table. Those intentions are not wrong. But underneath them can be an assumption that my experience is the baseline. That my perspective is normal. That the way I see the world is the way the world actually is.

That assumption is subtle, but it can be damaging.

It leads me to interpret behavior without context. It leads me to correct before I understand. It leads me to apply my expectations to someone else’s life without first asking what their world is actually like.

A mentee may struggle to focus, and I may label them distracted without realizing they barely slept the night before. A kid may come across as defiant, when what I am really seeing is anxiety or self-protection. A parent may seem disengaged, when the truth is that they are working multiple jobs just to keep the lights on.

The problem is not that mentors do not care. Most mentors care deeply. The problem is that care without understanding can still create distance.

When I assume I already know what someone needs, I stop seeing them as a person and start seeing them as a problem to solve.

The Core Principle

One truth has reshaped the way I mentor: understanding must come before influence.

I cannot speak meaningfully into a young person’s life if I have not taken the time to understand the world they are living in.

That does not mean I need to know every detail of their story before I can care for them. It means I bring humility into the relationship. I slow down. I ask questions. I listen longer than feels efficient. I resist the urge to fix what I do not yet understand.

Every child is shaped by family dynamics, school experiences, neighborhood realities, cultural expectations, economic pressures, friendships, loss, hope, and pain. None of those things are side details. They are part of the story.

When I understand the system around a young person, I begin to see behavior differently. What once looked like disrespect may reveal insecurity. What looked like laziness may reveal exhaustion. What felt like resistance may reveal a child trying to protect themselves from being hurt again.

Expanded Insight

I remember mentoring a student who struggled to get to meetings on time. At first, I saw it as irresponsibility. I wanted to address it directly and help him understand the importance of being dependable.

But when I slowed down and asked more questions, I learned that mornings in his home were unpredictable. Transportation changed constantly. Adults were coming and going. Some days, simply getting out the door took more effort than I could understand from the outside.

That did not mean expectations disappeared. We still talked about responsibility. We still worked toward consistency. But my posture changed.

Instead of approaching him with frustration, I approached him with curiosity.

Instead of saying, “Why are you always late?” I began asking, “What is your morning usually like?” That question opened a door. It gave me context. It helped him feel seen. And it allowed us to work together instead of making him feel like he was failing another adult.

This is why listening matters so much.

Listening is not just a mentoring skill. It is one of the clearest expressions of love.

When I listen well, I communicate dignity. I tell a young person that their story matters. I show them that I am not here to reshape them into my image, but to understand who they are and who God is forming them to become.

I also have to watch for what I call a “savior mentality.” It is easy to want to help by providing resources, solving problems, or stepping in quickly when something feels broken. But when I begin to see myself as the answer, the relationship changes.

I move from walking alongside someone to standing above them.

Real mentoring is not about being the hero. It is about being faithful. It is about showing up with consistency, humility, and a willingness to learn. Sometimes I encourage. Sometimes I challenge. Sometimes I guide. And sometimes my most important job is simply to listen.

Difference is not deficiency.

A young person’s culture, family, neighborhood, or way of seeing the world may be different from mine. That does not make it less valuable. There may be real challenges, pain, and broken systems involved, but there is also strength, resilience, creativity, loyalty, and beauty that I will miss if I only look for what needs to be fixed.

My role is not to erase someone’s context. My role is to understand it and walk with them through it.

Practical Ways to Apply This Principle

Choose humility before entering the relationship.
Remind yourself that you are stepping into someone else’s world. Lead with questions before advice. Let curiosity shape your first conversations.

Learn beyond the individual mentee.
Pay attention to their school, family rhythms, neighborhood, friendships, and daily pressures. The more you understand their environment, the better you can understand their behavior.

Slow down your instinct to fix problems.
When a challenge comes up, ask follow-up questions before offering a solution. What appears on the surface is often only part of the story.

Check your assumptions regularly.
When you feel frustrated or confused, pause and ask whether you are responding to behavior without considering context. Let curiosity replace judgment.

Share your own life with wisdom.
Your story can be helpful, but it should serve the relationship rather than take over the relationship. Build trust first, then share what is relevant and meaningful.

Practice listening as a discipline.
Put away distractions. Make eye contact. Let a mentee finish their thoughts. Ask questions that invite depth. Resist the urge to redirect every conversation toward your own agenda.

Bottom Line

Mentoring across difference has stretched me in ways I did not expect. It has exposed assumptions I did not know I carried and forced me to confront how quickly I can default to my own perspective.

But it has also taught me what it means to truly show up for someone.

The goal of mentoring is not to make a young person more like me. It is to help them become who God created them to be.

That requires patience, humility, and a willingness to keep learning.

I will misunderstand at times. I will make mistakes. But those moments do not disqualify me. They invite me to listen again, ask better questions, and remain present.

When I choose understanding over assumption, I make room for real connection. And in that space, transformation becomes more natural, more relational, and more lasting.

Discussion Questions

Where might I be assuming that my experience is the standard in my mentoring relationships?

What would it look like for me to prioritize understanding over influence in my next conversation with a mentee?