Simeon and me

You might recall Simeon from the May 3 post to this blog. I generally like to keep things moving forward rather than revisiting past stories, but I left some business unfinished back there.

You see, there’s a detail I left out of the narrative of Simeon’s and my trip to the ballpark. It was the question he asked me during the drive home. I had told him we were still looking for a committed partner for him, and he said, “Mr. Matt, why couldn’t you be my mentor?”

I can’t recall what answer I gave him that night. I do recall revisiting his question in my mind every single day until the end of the school year, when Simeon’s mom called me to ask if we could make haste getting him paired up with someone. She had concerns about the influences around him and hoped he could get some additional support during the unstructured months of summer.

I told Simeon’s mom, Claudine, I would make it a priority to find Simeon’s match within a week. Then I looked in the mirror and found him.

The list of objections that had played in my head before that conversation went something like this: “I have two small kids of my own who need a lot of attention,” “My wife works, too, and it’s already tricky to coordinate our schedules,” “I need to maintain a degree of separation from the program to allow me to make objective decisions about it,” and “Am I willing to make a sustained commitment to meet weekly with one particular teen? I have a lot on my plate, and we don’t exactly live next door to one another.”

I’m not proud of my objection list. After all, I’m usually the one who, along with Dottie, affirms prospective mentors in their belief that they can do this, that they’re in for one of life’s truly rewarding experiences if they’ll push past the objections that keep them from getting involved and then make good on their commitment. It’s funny how a small dose of perspective—that there is a real and great need—can melt away the objections.

So how are things with Simeon and me so far? Well, we spent our first two sessions throwing things at each other. It’s not what it sounds like, though—he eked out a win when we tossed a pickup game of cornhole at Atlantic Station, then we played catch at a local ballfield and he showed off his pitching arm.

We’ve also discussed Simeon’s goals, which include attending college (preferably at Clemson or Auburn) on a baseball scholarship. I’ve learned that he loves tofu, wants to study sports medicine, enjoys cooking, and feels self-conscious when he stumbles over his words but is willing to talk anyway. I’ve also seen firsthand what I already knew from interacting with a lot of committed partners: that two guys from different generations, different parts of town, and different backgrounds can have a lot in common, whether it seems that way on the surface or not.

Why couldn’t I be Simeon’s committed partner? No good reason I can think of….