Back in college, my department ran a mentoring program for freshmen—each newcomer was assigned a sophomore who would answer questions and provide guidance about school and classes. I, of course, participated when I was a freshman, and found it quite helpful. The next year, it was my turn to help our fellow freshmen, and one was assigned to me. All of us met up at a cafeteria and I told my charge “do”s and “don't”s. I thought I'd done my job and that should be it. One day, my charge came to me and asked if we could talk in private. So, we found an empty classroom, got in, sat down, and he started to tell me what was on his mind.
He said he had a younger brother who was a bipolar. Because of his brother's mental condition, his whole family was in turmoil and his parents were really exhausted. He told me he really wanted to be a doctor, so he could at least help his family out. I thought he was looking for my guidance, so I suggested he could take “the Exam” again and see if he could go to a medical school next time. To my surprise, this WAS his second time; he was admitted to another school the year before and didn't like it. Of course, the main reason was that it wasn't a medical school.
Really, it was overwhelming because I'd never experienced anything like his, especially one with a bipolar brother. I tried my best to offer suggestions and options, and of course he had considered those. I felt helpless that there was nothing I could do. In the end, he thanked me and said it helped that I listened.
Many years passed. I graduated, came to the states, met quite a few people and heard many strange stories. I don't know what becomes of him, but I do learn one thing over all these years—sometimes, it's best to just listen.
