No matter your profession, mentoring is the most crucial role you’ll ever play—and it’s one that can’t be overlooked. But here’s where it gets controversial: while many see mentoring as a secondary task, I argue it’s the foundation of any successful career or community. Let me explain why.
When I began my coding career over four decades ago, I was clueless. I’d dabbled in BASIC, tinkered with Z80 assembler, and knew my way around floppy drives, but I had zero experience navigating a professional engineering environment. And this is the part most people miss: it’s not just about technical skills—it’s about learning how to operate in a team, with all its quirks and challenges.
Fortunately, I landed my first job with two incredible mentors, John and Ethan. John was a master of bit-banging 8085 CPUs, while Ethan could make CP/M systems sing with BIOS calls. Their combined expertise was exactly what I needed, and they shared it generously. Looking back, I realize their mentorship wasn’t just about teaching—it was about empowering me to stand on my own.
Over the next decade, I honed my coding skills but struggled as a manager of junior engineers. I lacked the natural patience required to mentor effectively, but I did my best. Today, I see how much room I had to grow. That realization hit home in 1994 when, as co-creator of Virtual Reality Markup Language (VRML), I became an accidental mentor to a global community of 3D-on-the-web enthusiasts. The project could have fizzled out, but I was determined to keep it alive—and that’s when Owen Rowley stepped in.
Owen was a Silicon Valley legend. From crafting what might have been the world’s first mousepad to working with Nolan Bushnell and later as a sysadmin at Hewlett-Packard, he had stories that could fill a book. When we met, he was sysadmin for Autodesk’s Cyberspace Development Group, the epicenter of commercial VR at the time. Older and wiser, Owen became my guide to navigating a world of brilliant minds and oversized egos.
‘You’ve got to make people feel valued,’ he’d say. ‘Roll out the welcome mat. Make it easy for them to contribute—and ensure they’re recognized for it.’ These principles, now commonplace in open-source communities, were revolutionary in the early ’90s. Thanks to Owen, I transformed from a hesitant mentor into an enthusiastic one, focusing on connecting, listening, teaching, and fostering a sense of belonging.
Here’s the bold part: Owen didn’t just teach me how to mentor—he showed me that community equals safety. He had zero tolerance for bullies, and I followed his lead, privately addressing toxic behavior in our VRML mailing list. These actions sent a clear message: ‘We’re here for you, and we care.’ In today’s era of toxic social media, this lesson feels more relevant than ever.
VR’s heyday faded before the millennium, and Owen and I moved on to other ventures. But his guidance remained a constant in my life. Whether it was helping me navigate UNIX on a used SPARCstation or teaching me when to let go—as he did after my second panicked call to restore my OS—Owen embodied what it means to mentor with patience and purpose. ‘This is the last time I’m doing this for you,’ he said firmly, knowing I needed to learn independence.
Today, mentoring is a cornerstone of my work, and I owe that to Owen. He never explicitly said it, but his actions made it clear: mentoring isn’t just a task—it’s a human imperative. Now, I ask you: Do you see mentoring as a secondary role, or is it the backbone of your professional and personal growth? Let’s discuss in the comments.
In memory of D. Owen Rowley (1947-2025). ®
