“Umm … “ Rafael bites the tip of his pencil as he stares at the math problem in front of him: 11 x 7. In my head I’m screaming 77, but don’t say a word. I simply glance at him, smile, and ask, “You want some help?”

He looks up and nods. I pull up my chair to sit beside him. “Okay. So what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know how to solve this.”

“Well, how did the teacher explain these sorts of exercises?”

Rafael begins drawing circles lined up in rows of five, and just as my first-grade math teacher showed me, I help him count the rows. Then I show him a slightly different way and watch him start to get the hang of it.

“You understand now?”

“Mm-hm.” He writes a big, crooked 77 next to the math problem.

“Great. Now how about this one?” I point to a problem that reads 22 x 3.

Rafael pushes his glasses up his nose and blurts out, “100?”

“Nooo,” I slowly reply. A smile spreads across my face. “Don’t guess. Try to understand.”

Welcome to my Tuesday afternoon: ninety minutes of helping elementary school children who live in an low-income neighborhood near my high school. I help them with their homework, I watch over them when the woman in charge has to leave for a while, I make sure they eat (and sometimes eat with them), and I play with them.

The first time I visited the children’s center, I was eight. My mother, who taught the kids English, had decided to bring them some of our old books and asked if I wanted to come help. I was a bit confused. What could I do? I was only eight. But, as I learned, you can always help somehow. That particular day I helped a seven-year-old read one of the books we had brought. Ever since, we’ve been good friends.

Now, nine years later, I volunteer as much as I can. There have been a few years that I haven’t visited the children’s center, but the times I’m there I wouldn’t trade for anything. This school year, I plan on volunteering at least once a week.

Kids can drive you crazy and melt your heart at almost the same time. Some fall in love with you instantly, while others have a hard time opening up and letting you into their world – but once they do, you never want to leave. Their insight on life is incredible, and they need to be heard. A lot of adults think that since these kids are so young, their opinions don’t matter. I couldn’t disagree more. These are the years they need to develop their character and personality. If they are being ignored at home, they aren’t able to do well in school, and that can result in bad life decisions like dropping out and giving up on themselves. Seeing those kinds of situations at my own high school reminds me how important it is to teach kids that they are loved and important while they’re still young.

Even though it might seem insignificant to help kids read stories about farm animals, or show them how to multiply numbers when they could easily use a calculator, those are the things that build them into successful adults. The families of these kids are usually immigrants who aren’t able to help their kids with schoolwork or even give them a warm meal every day. That is why they are there. The center is where someone makes sure they do their homework; it’s where they can draw pictures about their day, play soccer outside, and eat chicken and corn at 1 p.m. The center is where they grow and learn, where they feel taken care of and important. I can’t stress enough how lucky I feel to be a part of that.

Knowing you are helping kids do better in school is satisfying enough, but you would not believe the feeling you get when you open the door of the children’s center, walk inside, and have a little boy with glasses look up from his plate to shout, “Hey! You’re back!”