Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.Nelson Mandela
For Twin Cities area students to realize their highest potential both academically and personally through educational enrichment and support, while building community and promoting a culture of local inspiration and edification.
Our founder, Nathanael McNair, grew up in the Central neighborhood of south Minneapolis. A Banyan community scholar at DeLaSalle High School, he went on to attend Yale University and the University of Minnesota. After five years of coordinating tutoring, college prep and academic enrichment programs around the Twin Cities, he recognized that many local students and families were stressed by the pressures of our academic system. In many cases, they benefited from interacting with local examples of resilience and success nearly as much as from the institutional and academic knowledge being shared.
He started The Minnetutor in 2019 to assist local students and their families through a community based model, connecting them to peer-like experts and promoting a culture of unity and neighborly support.
So a Minnetutor is a tutor from Minnesota I suppose?
That’s a very common misconception, but we actually take our name from a little known creature of urban legend.
My favorite relative, dear Aunt Phyllis, used to give tell of a creature she once encountered in her high school days when wandering in the brush and bramble between Riverside Park and the West River Road in Minneapolis.
She had gone in to retrieve her soccer ball, when — there she saw it in the crisp autumn light — the Minnetutor! The monster was hunched low in the shadows just steps ahead of her, a horrible moan emanating from its sunken head. Then, as its bespectacled face rose, she gasped in astonishment. Before her eyes was a charming beast with the head of a blue ox and the body of a bookish lumberjack, wearing a tweed coat with patched elbows over a red flannel.
A scream rose in the bottom of her throat at the sight of that unfortunate choice of dress, but she choked it down, and instead spat out the words, “Aye homie, where’s my ball at?” Aunt Phyllis wasn’t never no punk after all.
“Oh, so that’s what just hit me,” it exclaimed in relief. “Well I’m sorry, I’ve only just dusted off my glasses from where they fell. I’ve no idea where your ball went, but I do know how to ace the ACT! Here’s my card.”
Academic Tutor | Forestry and Logging Services | Model for Red Wing Boots
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“This man tweaking,” Aunt Phyllis thought, shaking her head as she squinted at the imbroglio of lines and circles drawn on the back. But when she looked up, the creature was gone. A few paces from where it had been, she saw the ball — freshly sharpied with a proof of the Pythagorean theorem. She picked it up and walked back to the field, wondering how she could explain that she hadn’t been in the bushes writing her math assignment on the ball while everyone waited. Even with the business card, no one would believe what she had seen.
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“…as its bespectacled face rose, she gasped in astonishment. Before her eyes was a charming beast with the head of a blue ox and the body of a bookish lumberjack, wearing a tweed coat with patched elbows over a red flannel. A scream rose in the bottom of her throat…”
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