Three Things Amelia Ransom Said About Mentoring That I’m Still Thinking About

I recently joined Amelia Ransom on her DEI AF podcast for a conversation about mentoring, sponsorship, learning, AI, and what it really takes to grow.

Amelia has a gift for putting big ideas into memorable language. Three things she said during our conversation have stayed with me.

1. “Don’t be a learning thief.”

I loved Amelia’s phrase “learning thief.”

It describes what happens when mentors enter a relationship assuming all the learning is supposed to flow in one direction: I’m the experienced person. I’m here to teach you.

My take: Great mentoring is reciprocal.

A mentor may bring experience, context, and perspective, but the mentee brings knowledge, experiences, and ways of seeing the world the mentor doesn’t have.

Come to mentoring prepared to contribute—but also prepared to learn.

Otherwise, you may be leaving half the value of the relationship on the table.

2. “What do you need to know to be true about me to advocate for me when I’m not in the room?”

Amelia shared a question she asked her COO:

“What do you need to know to be true about me to advocate for me when I’m not in the room?”

That is such a powerful sponsorship question.

It moves beyond, What should I work on? or even What do you think of me? It asks a senior leader to name what they would need to know, observe, or believe before putting their own credibility behind you.

Amelia then talked about taking that information back to her mentor and working on those things—if they rang true for her.

My take: This is exactly why no single developmental relationship can do everything.

A sponsor can advocate for you.  They can tell you what they would need to see in order to advocate for you.

A mentor can help you reflect on that feedback, decide what is relevant, build the capability, and think through how to demonstrate it authentically.

Different people play different roles in our growth.

That is the power of a learning ecosystem: not relying on one person to provide everything you need, but intentionally building a network of relationships that provide different kinds of perspective, challenge, support, and access.

3. “AI can transfer knowledge, but it can’t give you nuance.”

Later in our conversation, Amelia offered a series of observations about AI that stopped me in my tracks:

“I’m not afraid of AI. I’m afraid of us.”

“AI can tell you what it said, but not what it is saying.”

And:

“AI can transfer knowledge, but it can’t give you nuance.”

My take:

There is no shortcut to human connection.

AI can give us information. It can transfer knowledge. It can summarize, synthesize, and help us see patterns.

But nuance lives in relationship.

It lives in the trust that makes it possible to say the thing that is hard to say – or as Amelia puts it “to say the quiet things out loud.”

That kind of learning requires human connection.

There is no shortcut to it.

This is why I don’t believe AI makes developmental relationships less important.

It makes them more important.

AI scales information.

Relationships scale wisdom.

As access to knowledge becomes easier, our ability to interpret it, question it, contextualize it, and exercise sound judgment becomes even more valuable.

And we develop those capacities with—and through—other people.

The thread connecting all these observations is this:

Don’t just receive learning. Participate in it.

Take charge of your own learning.  Be willing to learn from the people you mentor. Ask what others need to know to advocate for you.   Be both mentor and mentee, sponsor and protégé. Build a network of relationships that helps you reflect, stretch, interpret, and act.

Growth isn’t simply about accumulating more information.

It is about becoming better at making meaning from it—and surrounding yourself with the people who help you do that.

That is what a true learning ecosystem makes possible.

You can watch my full conversation with Amelia Ransom on DEI AF here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0V1vSmNKOf8

For more information and resources, visit:  www.centerformentoring.com or www.lisazfain.com

The Empty Room Denim Bar

If AI can teach people almost anything, what is the role of mentoring now?

Imagine a new hire, fresh from college, top talent recruited for a high-performing team. We can call her Whitney.

Whitney is six months into her role. She is bright, capable, and resourceful. When she gets stuck, she opens an AI tool.

She asks it to explain the new market she is working in. She asks it to draft an email to a senior stakeholder. She asks it to summarize notes from a meeting she barely understood. It does all these things, well and quickly.

In many ways, Whitney is moving faster than she could have a few years ago. She is not waiting for someone to teach her the basics or wondering where to start.

Her company sees this as a win. They are so pleased with the efficiencies of AI that, instead of investing in mentoring, they have invested in AI coaching as their primary development tool. The message, though no one says it quite this plainly, is: Why build mentoring when people can get answers instantly?

For Whitney, something is missing.

AI can’t identify which stakeholder really needs to be consulted before the proposal goes forward. AI can’t help her understand why one very influential leader nodded enthusiastically in the meeting but sent a skeptical email afterward. It can’t help her discern whether her colleague’s stony reaction is par for the course or a sign of misalignment. It can’t teach her, in context, how to raise a concern without sounding difficult, or how to tell whether silence in the room means agreement, resistance, or fatigue.

She feels disconnected from context and isolated by her independence. AI cannot help her with that.

Whitney’s manager holds her accountable for performance: the report, the deck, the deadline, the client response. But no one is holding her accountable for her growth. No one is asking what she is learning, where she is stretching, what patterns she is noticing, or what kind of judgment she is developing.

Whitney’s work looks good enough that everyone assumes she is fine.

She isn’t fine. Her skills are underutilized. She is producing without developing. She is answering questions without building confidence. She is surrounded by tools and still has nowhere to turn.

Eventually, Whitney realizes she needs more than answers. She needs people.

She reaches out to someone in another department whose judgment she admires. Not with a grand request to “be my mentor forever,” but with a specific invitation: “I’m trying to get better at reading stakeholder dynamics. Would you be willing to talk with me once a month for the next few months?”

That relationship changes something.

Her mentor does not simply give her advice. She provides context. She helps Whitney see the organization more clearly. She challenges Whitney’s assumptions, shares her own mistakes, and points out patterns Whitney had missed.

Over time, Whitney begins to use AI differently too.

Instead of asking AI for the answer, she asks it to help her prepare: What questions should I bring? What assumptions might I be making? How can I reflect on what I heard? Where do I need more context from a human being?

AI becomes a tool for preparation and reflection. The relationship becomes the place where judgment is built.

This is where the question gets real: If AI can teach people almost anything, what is the role of mentoring now?

The answer is that mentoring was never just about teaching.

At its best, mentoring is about development. It is about connection, reciprocal learning, shared sense-making, feedback, encouragement, perspective, accountability, and access. It is not merely the transfer of knowledge. It is a relationship that helps people interpret experience, build judgment, navigate complexity, and become more capable than they would be on their own.

In an AI-shaped workplace, that role becomes more important, not less.

This relationship is just a starting point for Whitney. She does not need one all-knowing mentor to hand her every answer. She needs a developmental network: a mentor who can help her make sense of experience, a connector who can help her understand the unwritten rules, a challenger who will sharpen her thinking, a sponsor who will say her name in rooms she is not yet in, a peer who will compare notes honestly, and a manager who sees development as more than task completion.

Organizations need this too. They cannot simply give people AI tools and assume growth will follow. Output is not the same as development. Efficiency is not the same as judgment. Access to information is not the same as access to wisdom.

AI does not replace the human relationships that help us make meaning, build courage, exercise judgment, and contribute fully.

AI hasn’t made mentoring obsolete. It has made human intelligence and connection even more essential to ensuring talent is fully realized.

For more information and resources, visit:  www.centerformentoring.com or www.lisazfain.com

AI and mentoring

The Empty Room That Taught Me About Connection

For 17 years, we lived in Chicago.

I built a career there. I started a family there. I raised babies there. I learned how to be an adult there, in the blunt, beautiful, exhausting way adulthood often teaches us: long hours, longer commutes, too much to carry, not quite enough money in the bank, and a calendar that looked full but somehow did not feel sustaining.

My marriage was strong. My work was satisfying. Our life was good in many ways.

And still, I was lonely.

Not lonely in the dramatic, abandoned-on-a-mountaintop sense. I had people around me. We had great neighbors. We had couple friends we liked and saw now and then. I had work colleagues, fellow parents, people I genuinely enjoyed.

But I did not have the kind of deep female friendship I ached for. I missed the easy camaraderie I had known with my college friends, the shorthand, the kinship, the sense of being known without having to explain the whole backstory every time. Those friends were scattered around the country, and I found myself longing for something I could not seem to build where I was.

I remember hearing the advice that if you want to have friends, you have to be a good friend. So, I tried.

I volunteered. I joined parent committees. I showed up in religious and civic spaces. I invited work colleagues to lunch. I looked for ways to offer generosity and kindness, hoping that if I kept extending myself, something would take root.

One moment from that time has stuck with me:

At a charity silent auction, I bid on – and won – a party for 20 at a denim bar. At the time, this was a new and lively concept: a place where you could go, get fitted for a great pair of jeans, have a little fun, maybe drink something bubbly, and leave feeling slightly more fabulous than when you walked in.

I thought it would be a perfect way to gather a group of women.

So, I invited women I knew and liked. I bought refreshments. I watched the responses come in through Evite. About 10 women said yes.

The night of the party, I set everything up and waited.

At the appointed hour, no one came.

Forty-five minutes passed.

Finally, one person walked in.

We laughed a little, tried on jeans, made our purchases and called it a night.

Then I went home and cried.

I did not cry because I felt embarrassed, though I did. I did not cry because people were cruel, because they were not. People are busy. They forget. They have sick kids and deadlines and traffic and lives with their own invisible weather systems.

I cried because the empty room told me something I already feared was true: I had not built the kind of relationships my soul needed.

For years, I thought about that night as a painful, slightly humiliating story about friendship.

But over time, I understood it differently.

The problem was not simply that I needed more friends. The problem was that I was looking for friendship as if it were one thing. One magical circle. One group that would offer belonging, fun, honesty, encouragement, accountability, perspective, challenge, and care.

What I really needed was not one perfect community.

I needed an ecosystem.

That realization became even clearer after I moved to Seattle, a city famous for the so-called Seattle Freeze. I braced myself for distance. Instead, in a relatively short period of time, I found myself surrounded by a richer, more nourishing web of relationships than I had experienced in all my years in Chicago.

Part of that was timing. Part of it was openness. Part of it was luck.

But part of it was that I had changed.

I was no longer waiting for friendship or support to appear fully formed. I had become more intentional about seeking different relationships for different purposes.

At the same time, I hired a coach. I joined a mastermind of women entrepreneurs. I built relationships that were not centered on our children or our spouses or our proximity, but on mutual curiosity, shared growth, and the willingness to tell each other the truth.

And slowly, I began to see the pattern.

Some relationships helped me feel known.

Some helped me think bigger.

Some challenged the stories I was telling myself.

Some opened doors.

Some reminded me to rest.

Some helped me sharpen my ideas.

Some held up a mirror.

Some held my hand.

None of these relationships had to be everything. Together, they became enough.

What This Taught Me About Mentoring

That insight changed how I think about mentoring, leadership, and growth too.

For years, we have treated mentoring as if it requires finding one wise person who will guide us. The mentor. The sage. The person with the answers. But that model is too narrow for the complexity of real life and real work.

No one person can be our challenger, sponsor, connector, truth-teller, strategist, encourager, role model, and safe harbor.

And when we expect one person to do all of that, we often end up disappointed. Or we do not ask at all, because the ask feels too big.

But when we begin to think in terms of a developmental network, everything changes.

The Power of a Developmental Network

A developmental network is the constellation of people who help us grow. It may include mentors, peers, sponsors, coaches, colleagues, friends, former bosses, clients, teachers, and people who see something in us before we fully see it ourselves.

It is not about collecting contacts or even about networking in the transactional sense.

It is about building the relationships that help us become more courageous, more discerning, more useful, and more fully ourselves.

That is the heart of my message now.

Growth does not happen in isolation. Better judgment does not develop in a vacuum. Impact does not come from rugged individualism, no matter how much our culture romanticizes it.

We grow through relationship.

We make better decisions when we have people who help us see what we cannot see alone.

We become braver when we have people who remind us of who we are becoming.

We create more impact when we stop waiting to be chosen, rescued, or discovered, and instead begin to design the network that helps us contribute at a higher level.

Looking back, I have compassion for the woman standing in that denim bar with her refreshments and her hopeful little Evite list.

She was not needy or foolish or failing.

She was seeking.

Hungry for the relationships that would help her feel more rooted, more supported, more alive.

I still believe in generosity. I still believe in being a good friend. But I no longer believe that support is something we should leave to chance.

We must be more intentional than that.

We can ask: Who helps me think? Who helps me tell the truth? Who helps me grow? Who helps me remember what matters? Who opens doors? Who challenges me with care? Who do I support in return?

This is not about being a joiner.

It is about being a seeker.

A learner.

A connector.

Most of all, it’s about being a designer of the relationships that make a bigger life, and a bigger contribution, possible.

 

For more information and resources, visit:  www.centerformentoring.com or www.lisazfain.com

The Empty Room Denim Bar

Are Books Dead? Or Are We (Finally) Rethinking How Humans Learn?

When I asked Ori Brafman, professor at UC Berkeley’s Haas School of Business, what questions he had been wrestling with lately, he wondered aloud about the future of books in a world where learning is increasingly interactive and relational.

The inquiry stopped me cold. Because I love books.

Fiction and nonfiction. Memoir, business, romance, historical novels. I surround myself with them. I read them, recommend them, and keep stacks within reach. Even unread books bring me comfort. They represent possibility and ideas waiting to be explored.

It prompted my reflection on a deeper question: Does the architecture of learning that books represent still match how people learn today?

Many of the learning formats we rely on were designed for a different era. Long readings, lectures, and traditional training modules often fail to engage modern learners. This shows up in classrooms and workplaces alike. Organizations invest heavily in training content, yet participation and retention remain stubbornly low.

Shrinking attention spans and digital distraction are common explanations. Those factors play a role. But they miss the deeper issue. The challenge is how we design learning.

Many learning systems still prioritize the transfer of information. The modern workplace increasingly demands something more: discernment, perspective, and judgment.

The challenge is no longer access to knowledge. It is making sense of it. When learning systems fail to support that work, organizations face a costly consequence: human potential that remains underdeveloped and underutilized.

For much of the last century, formal learning followed a familiar pattern: read the material, listen to the lecture, absorb the framework. The learner sits outside the knowledge, looking in.

Historically, humans learned differently. Learning happened through apprenticeship, storytelling, observation, experimentation, and conversation. Knowledge was experienced in context rather than delivered at a distance.

Learning was immersive.

This insight aligns with decades of research on adult learning. Malcolm Knowles argued that adults learn most effectively when learning is self-directed, relevant to real problems, and immediately applicable (Knowles, Holton & Swanson, 2015). David Kolb’s experiential learning model similarly emphasizes cycles of experience, reflection, and experimentation (Kolb, 1984).

Yet many modern learning environments continue to rely on lectures, readings, and static content. Traditional formats often conflict with what research shows about how adults learn.

Relationships create immersion every day.

In my work helping organizations design mentoring and learning ecosystems, mentoring is frequently misunderstood as advice or knowledge transfer. A more experienced professional shares what they know, and the mentee applies it.

But mentoring at its best does something deeper. It allows people to step inside another person’s thinking, experience, and judgment.

Knowledge transfer builds knowledge. Development builds discernment.

That distinction matters more than ever because information is abundant. Books, courses, podcasts, and digital tools can deliver knowledge instantly.

The harder task is interpretation.

The current debate about artificial intelligence often centers on whether technology weakens our ability to think. A more productive question is how these tools might deepen thinking. AI can surface perspectives, questions, and patterns we might not encounter on our own. The interpretation and judgment that follow remain fundamentally human work.

That work happens best through conversation and connection.

Generational shifts make this even more visible. Younger professionals have grown up in environments shaped by interaction, rapid feedback, and social learning. Dialogue and collaboration are natural modes of learning.

Yet many organizations still rely on static learning models designed for a different era.
If learning is going to engage people, the answer is not simply more content.

The answer is better-designed learning ecosystems.

In those ecosystems, content provides ideas. Technology expands exploration. Relationships create the space where ideas become insight.

Developmental networks – the constellation of people who challenge us, support us, and expand our perspective – become the engine of learning.

Here is where I’ve landed on Ori’s provocative question:

  • Books still matter – but learning systems built around content alone cannot produce the kind of growth and transformation organizations need.
  • The future of learning must be more immersive, more relational, and more intentionally designed.
  • In our modern era, books spark ideas. They fuel curiosity. They introduce us to new ways of seeing the world.

Learning takes hold somewhere else.

It happens in relationships. Through action. Through the messy work of testing ideas, applying them, and rolling up our sleeves to engage with them in practice.
That is where discernment develops and where growth happens.

That’s why the future of learning will belong to organizations that intentionally design environments where people can engage with ideas together.

 

For more information and resources, visit:  www.centerformentoring.com or www.lisazfain.com

Civility
Center for Mentoring Excellence Leadership Team shares stories of the past and recommendations for the future

Center for Mentoring Excellence Leadership Team shares stories of the past and recommendations for the future

Lois, Lory and Lisa share many things in common when it comes to mentoring, but it’s their individual approach and unique outlook that make them such a successful team. This spirit of individuality and their complementary skills were highlighted in a recent interview, where they were asked about their passion for mentoring, what they’ve learned from mentors, and their advice to new mentors.

Here’s what they had to say:

Why are you passionate about mentoring?

LOIS: My personal mentoring stories are many. I marvel at how my mentors raised the bar for me, led by example, pushed me beyond my personally defined limits, encouraged me to enlarge my thinking, and believed in me even when I was not sure of myself. I am grateful for their time, their stories and their commitment to my growth. And, while most of my experiences were positive, there were a few that could have gone better. I had no clue then that there were things I could have done, could have said, could have asked, and could have tried that would have allowed me to make the most of my mentoring relationships. I didn’t realize that as a mentee I had an instrumental role to play in shaping the relationship and defining the outcomes of the relationship. So for me, mentoring is both personal and professional. I pay it back, every day and in every way that I can. My passion is reignited every time I work with my many diverse clients and I see how mentoring has helped them change, both themselves and the world around them.

LORY: I’ve interviewed hundreds of mentors and mentees over the past 18 years and heard their stories about breakthroughs, renewed confidence, and shifts in thinking. Their stories have inspired me. I get energized listening to people talk about their renewed sense of energy and commitment to their work because of the support and positive feedback they’ve received from mentors. I recently spoke to a mentee who told me how his mentor helped him see why certain stereotypical beliefs were holding him back and undermining his success at work. When he was finally able to turn his behaviors around, the stress and tension disappeared and new opportunities opened up. It’s exciting to see the transformative power of mentoring play itself out, time and time again.

LISA: I believe the best way to make a difference in the workplace is to help employees feel connected, valued and heard. I think that mentoring is the ideal way to accomplish this, because it creates a safe and powerful space for a mentee to gain perspective, focus on his/her own needs and ask questions that broaden their perspectives of themselves, their teams, and their organization.

What have you learned from your mentors?

LOIS: I’ve learned to listen to my own voice, to think outside the box, to let my creativity shine through, and to never give up. And that’s only the start of it. I’ve learned from observing my mentors in action, how they model the art and practice of being a reflective practitioner and asking deep, penetrating questions.

LORY: My first mentor believed that I had the skills and talent to be successful. He believed in my abilities more than I did. He inspired me to take risks and take on assignments that I would never have done without his support. I learned to believe in myself and see myself as a capable leader. My mentor also helped me understand how to think strategically and understand the politics of the institution. In a sense, he helped me see how the chess pieces moved. I learned to think several steps ahead, rather than jump in and make decisions on the fly.

LISA: I’ve learned to slow down, and to step back and think about the impact my role can have on the organization as a whole. This has helped me be more strategic and focus my own development so that I can have the greatest impact. I’ve learned to pay attention to what lights me up. I’ve learned to appreciate the positive feedback I get and to process difficult feedback constructively and in the proper context.I’ve learned a ton about the importance of developing relationships with people who believe in me and to nurture those relationships.

What are the top 3 things you’d like a new mentor to know?

LOIS:

  1. Pay attention to your intuition. Your gut feeling is more often right than wrong.
  2. Don’t be afraid of the silence. Silence allows a mentee to catch up, to process, and come up with new insights.
  3. You don’t need to know everything. A good question is the most powerful tool in your mentor’s toolkit.

LORY:

  1. Talk about your challenges and struggles with your mentee as well as your successes. It will make you more approachable and human.
  2. Believe in your mentees and let them know that you see their potential. They are doing the heavy lifting and your positivity helps them continue the effort.
  3. Push your mentee out of their comfort zone. It’s the only way they will reap real rewards.

LISA:

  1. Share your own experiences — the good stuff and the stuff that might not be so good. It makes a world of difference for mentees to know you are human and that you can bounce back from difficult experiences.
  2. Give honest but constructive feedback — and help the mentee turn it into something actionable. Mentees can make great gains if they get honest feedback from their mentors. It helps many mentees to have a space to talk about the best ways to improve.
  3. Check in on the relationship. If something the mentee is doing isn’t working for you, or is sabotaging their own progress, share it with them as soon as possible. Some of the greatest progress has come from mentoring relationships that started out rocky, but where the participants addresses issues openly, swiftly, and willingly.