My mom was a maverick educator in Helena, not your typical textbook tutor. You wouldn’t find her children cramped in straight rows of rigid vertical desks! No, she rebelled against the norm, introducing special “horizontal desks” to her kids in their pursuit of knowledge. Granted, they were more perfect for spitball than learning, sometimes – but they were great! She understood the rhythm of young minds, knew that they thrived in environments that freed them from convention. Like a master painter, she crafted a canvas with colorful daubs of practical wisdom, not confined to theory alone.
Her creativity ran wild like John Denver and Montana rivers, as she brought to life books like “Bridge to Terabithia”. She had special units where each kid could progress at their own speed. She had a special handicapped unit where kids would be blindfolded for days, or ear muffed for days to see how it felt to be blind or deaf. She walked her students through the maze of legislation, drafting bills with them, a real-life enactment that made the abstract concrete. Her crowning achievement was the Montana State Ballad, a testament to her unorthodox style and relentless perseverance. It still echoes in the corridors of the Montana state legislature, a tangible evidence of her successful, unconventional teaching style.
My mother, the great thespian, even transmuted her classroom into a theatrical stage. I still fondly recall being cast as the Cowardly Lion in the “Wizard of Oz”.
The courage of the Lion wasn’t the only thing that echoed through that play; my mother’s commitment to nurturing kids echoed louder. She placed a huge emphasis on writing and drawing. I remember the long afternoons where she taught me how to draw upside down.
More Mentors
Jim Heckel, the stalwart editor from Helena, was another significant mentor in my life. Recognizing my budding passion for movies and words, he took me under his wing, providing me with a platform to critique films, nurturing my love for the cinematic world. There I was, a mere middle-schooler, clutching my Pepsi, eyes shining with anticipation, as I penned my thoughts on the latest flicks. Those Sundays didn’t just earn me $7.25 a review, they cultivated in me an understanding of nuanced storytelling and criticism.
My parents, acting as my first editors, were ruthless, their love for me not interfering with their pursuit of my betterment. Their red ink was my learning tool, carving lessons into my work and sculpting me into a writer who could sort of do complete sentences, haha. Jim Heckel, then, was the master chiseler, his experienced hand applying the final touch, molding my rough edges so I could see where I messed up.
There was Mark Tee, director at KTVH television, and Mike Bucher, a director of photography, both offering their wisdom generously. Tee entrusted me with a camera for the nightly news, an experience that further amplified my love for filmmaking. Bucher demonstrated the intricate workings of an Arriflex camera, offering his skills for one of my short movies. They were not just my mentors but my guides into the cinematic world.
My journey continued in L.A., where Mike Hancock, a veteran of the Hollywood industry, introduced me to the world of big movies. The journey was not always smooth. There were stumbling blocks, pitfalls, and yes, failures. But these setbacks were mere stitches in the vast tapestry of my life, each one essential in creating the broader picture.
When I ventured into the next chapter of my life, I found myself under the tutelage of Steve Saroff, a man who introduced me to the digital landscape. Saroff, with his quiet yet commanding wisdom, guided me through the intricacies of the computer world. The day he discovered I was without internet, he was incredulous. The idea of my living unconnected was a concept he couldn’t grasp. “This is how I made all my money,” he exclaimed. I argued against the pull of the world wide web, citing it as a distraction from my analog passions. But Saroff, in his typical fashion, pushed me towards the uncharted terrain of cyberspace.
From writing gigs that made him chuckle to hands-on computer jobs that made him money, I embraced the unfamiliar with the curiosity of an explorer. Saroff’s faith in me was unwavering, even when others doubted my aptitude for a computer job. “He knows nothing about computers,” his partner had warned. But Saroff, ever the optimistic mentor, brushed away the skepticism. “He’s really smart. He can figure it out,” he countered, placing his trust in me.
My time with Saroff was not merely a professional engagement; it was a reservoir of personal growth and intellectual exploration. Our conversations often swerved from business and marketing strategies to Nabokov’s literature and the intricate art of chess. We often talked all day, on “chat”. It was during those captivating discussions that I was reminded of the essence of mentorship: to stimulate not just professional development but to encourage the growth of the whole person.
Bolstered by the wisdom of my mentors, I finally ventured into the world of business, armed with an arsenal of acquired skills. My love for music and my newfound knowledge of computers and business came together beautifully in the form of a piano school. There I was, teaching not just piano and guitar, but also imparting lessons of resilience, creativity, and perseverance that my mentors had taught me.
Teaching 80 students a week was no small feat, but every chord struck and every melody composed was a testament to the power of mentorship. The joy that radiated from my students and their progress was a mirror reflecting my journey. I had transitioned from being a mentee to a mentor, taking the baton forward, ensuring the legacy of my mentors lived on.
I realized that building businesses and helping people were not mutually exclusive but rather, intertwined beautifully. The power of mentorship doesn’t just rest in guiding a single individual; it lies in the ripple effect it creates, in the countless lives it touches, and in the communities it uplifts. Today, as I reflect on my journey, I am reminded of the unique confluence of wisdom, experiences, and the sheer faith of my mentors that shaped me.
The fascinating people I met, the adrenaline of the fast-paced newsroom, the intense atmosphere on movie sets, all these experiences have shaped my journey, honed my skills, and cultivated my perspective. I kind of just failed and failed again. And still do! But I want to say I’m learning and getting it.
And now, all those mentors, years later, have inspired me to transition from being a mentee to a mentor. For the power of mentorship, like a river, flows best when it continues its course, not when it’s dammed. And now I find myself telling some kid to get the internet.
Kerry Heffelfinger co-founded Sunflower Counseling MT with his wife, Marie, and their three spirited children. In the scarce moments of respite from running the business, Kerry indulges in his passion for the electric guitar, which he keeps, rather unconventionally, in the bathroom. Aside from his musical pursuits, Kerry finds solace in the seemingly mundane: wandering the aisles of Target and browsing the colorful array of La Croix cans. These simple pleasures, however ordinary, offer him moments of tranquility amidst the chaos of family and work life.