On the last day of high school, I received a note from one of my own mentors, a remarkable English teacher who supervised me through a year-long teaching internship. She wrote: "You helped to guide the students through this difficult year with patience and grace. I think you have a teacher's instinct." I keep her card pinned directly above my desk, and every time I question myself I'm reminded of her unyielding faith in my abilities, and I persevere. I've mentored in a wide range of roles. From being a confidant for students in the GSA to working as a "Big Sib" in my high school's acclimation program, I've learned the value my time and my mentorship can have. But it wasn't until I was a teacher's assistant for my former teacher, whom I've known since I was 12, that I began to see the potential my guidance could provide. The students I worked with were incoming middle schoolers, and I was tasked with teaching them and guiding them through their transition. I spent at least four hours with them every week, and with every conversation and piece of writing, I tried to coax them out of their shells so they could start to explore all that was available to them as they entered teenagehood. I encouraged every academic, artistic, and personal interest they shared. Now, I'm just waiting; I gave them all of the preparation and motivation I could, and every time I think of them I envision who they might become in five years. When I reconnect with them, I hope that they've grown into who I know they can be. All of my mentees are exceptional; my role isn't to make them "better," but to convince them of what they are capable of achieving.