The Quiet Power of Showing Up

When people talk about mentorship, it often sounds big. A well-known professional giving a public talk. A celebrated coach leading a winning team. A formal program with structured goals. But in my experience, mentorship usually looks much smaller than that. It’s quiet. It happens in the margins. And sometimes, it doesn’t look like mentorship at all.

I’ve been lucky to receive guidance from people who didn’t make a show of it. They showed up. They noticed when I needed direction. And they offered help not because it was their job, but because they cared. That kind of support shaped me, and it’s the kind I try to pass on now.

Scouting Lessons That Still Stick

When I was growing up in Fremont, California, the Boy Scouts of America played a big part in my life. Earning the rank of Eagle Scout wasn’t just about badges and projects. It was about learning how to lead through action, not just instruction. One of the most valuable things I learned was that real leadership often happens in quiet moments. Like helping someone pack up after a long hike. Or teaching a skill to someone who’s struggling, even when no one else notices.

These moments didn’t come with applause. But they built trust. They built confidence. And they created ripples that extended far beyond that day or that campfire. That’s what mentorship is about. Being there when it matters, not just when it’s convenient.

Sports, Trust, and the Unseen Encouragement

In team sports, mentorship is woven into the rhythm of practice. When I played basketball and ran track, I learned that good teammates are often quiet mentors. The senior player who shows you how to run a drill the right way. The person who claps for your small win even when they had a bad day. The one who pulls you aside after a mistake and says, “You’ve got this, next time, just watch your footwork.”

None of that shows up on a scoreboard. But it sticks with you. And it makes you want to do the same for the next person.

I’ve seen again and again that leadership through service creates a strong foundation, not just for results, but for culture. You don’t have to be the captain to lead. You just have to care enough to lift others up.

Mentorship in Academic Halls

At the University of Chicago and later at NYU, I experienced mentorship in more subtle ways. A professor taking an extra 10 minutes to walk through a concept with me. A peer sharing how they structured their study time. A teaching assistant who offered encouragement when I hit a wall.

Those small acts didn’t just help me get better at the subject. They reminded me that learning is communal. You don’t have to compete with everyone around you. Sometimes, the best thing you can do is share what you know.

In return, I’ve tried to be that person for others. Whether it’s helping a friend edit an essay or talking someone through a tough decision, I’ve learned that giving your time, attention, and encouragement is one of the most valuable gifts you can offer.

Small Acts. Lasting Impact.

The truth is, we rarely remember every piece of advice we receive. But we do remember how someone made us feel. We remember who believed in us when we didn’t believe in ourselves. We remember who listened without judgment. We remember who taught us something with patience.

That’s why I believe in mentorship in the margins. You don’t have to have all the answers. You just have to show someone that you see them. That their effort matters. That their growth is worth your time.

And the ripple effect is real. When someone helps you, you’re more likely to help someone else. Over time, that creates a culture where people support one another not out of obligation, but out of shared purpose.

The Way I Try to Pay It Forward

Today, I keep that mindset with me in every setting, whether I’m collaborating with a team, working through a project, or simply talking with someone one-on-one. I ask questions. I listen more than I speak. And when I can, I offer perspective from what I’ve learned.

I’ve found that mentorship is not about titles or age or seniority. It’s about being present and offering whatever you can, when you can. Sometimes, that’s a piece of technical advice. Other times, it’s just saying, “I’ve been there too.”

The more we normalize this kind of quiet leadership, the more resilient and human our workplaces, schools, and communities become.

Leadership in the Everyday

Not every mentor wears the label. Some are just people who care enough to invest their time. Some are teammates, classmates, or even strangers who took a moment to help.

Those are the people I remember. And that’s the kind of person I want to be.

In a world that often equates leadership with being loud or in charge, I think there’s real value in celebrating the quieter kind. The kind that listens, supports, and uplifts, without asking for anything in return.

Because sometimes, the strongest impact isn’t made in a speech or a spotlight. It’s made in a hallway conversation, a late-night study session, or a quick word of encouragement after a loss. That’s mentorship in the margins. And it matters more than most people realize.