The life of a writing mentor, 7:55 to 10:01 p.m.

The life of a writing mentor, 7:55 to 10:01 p.m.

By: Kate Yoder

Photo by Maria Jantz An unnamed writing mentor eagerly awaits Writing Center clients.

On the historic day of Thursday, October 10, I worked yet another grueling shift at the Writing Center.

Loyal readership, I’m sure this minute-to-minute, play-by-play account of my perspiring, edifying and electrifying mentoring experience will leave you dazzled.

7:55. I enter the Good Library’s first set of double doors, rest for a moment in the glamorous foyer, and then work up the arm muscle courage to open the second set of doors. I approach the circulation desk and ask Seth Yoder how the library is. Seth neglects to inform me about the state of the building, but I forgive his misinterpretation of my question. He tells me he has checked out a couple books so far this shift.

7:56. I congratulate Seth for plowing through what was clearly a tough shift and then retreat to the Writing Center, thrilled that I will most likely refrain from human interaction for the next two hours.

7:57. I place the “Writing Tutor Available” sign outside the door. I am never quite sure where to place it, so each time I put it in a slightly different location simply for the joy of experimentation. (You can expect me to declare a science major any day now.)

7:58. I congratulate myself for getting to work two minutes early by taking out my iPad Mini and beginning my homework.

8:02. I am somewhat embarrassed by my clumsy highlighting shenanigans on the iPad’s Goodreader app. “Perhaps a first-year will come in for writing assistance so I can get help,” I think.

8:03. The library door opens. Has someone come to take advantage of my writing expertise?

8:04. No.

8:19. Inspiration strikes. I begin retroactively documenting my Writing Center shift on the iPad Mini.

8:40. My sniffling noises, a symptom of the uncommon cold, echo throughout the empty chamber of the Writing Center as I reach for a tissue.

8:56. A breathtaking development occurs.  In the middle of my reading, I discover a note from my professor informing me I can skip four pages of the document.

9:39. Only one tissue in the Kleenex box remains. Things are looking dire.

10:00. I bring back the “Writing Tutor Available” sign, which had mysteriously moved at some point during my shift. I blame the library elves.

10:01. I exit the library feeling satisfied and fulfilled from my rewarding work.

Sent from my iPad

Record
Record
Written by Record

No comments yet.

No one have left a comment for this post yet!

Leave a comment