I WAS FINGERPRINTED, twice, provided three references, and underwent a background check. I couldn’t remember ever having been arrested, but as the process wound on, I was less and less sure. It seemed like anybody qualified to be a mentor would have to be so saintlike that he’d have nothing in common with the kids he was supposed to be helping.
Then came the sniff test, an interview with the program director. I’d rehearsed phrases I thought he’d be looking for, like “giving back to the community” and “helping a young man fulfill his potential.” But when the moment actually came, I heard myself sigh and