Personal Narrative: Let I Help Me

“Let me help you.”
I was doing my usual shifts at an arts and crafts program in the library when he came in. He came in five minutes late from the back door, along with an adult woman who did not look like his mom. I didn’t pay much attention at first and continued strolling around the room, but then I heard a cry and saw the boy throwing markers on the ground.
Another volunteer was trying to help him on drawing, and he was not listening to anyone.
I walked toward him, and our eyes met for the first time that day. His eyes were emotionless to me. There was only coldness that kept him away from everyone else. That was the moment when I realized that this young boy might have a disability, so I walked up to him and wanted to help. When I was one table away from him, he saw me and started to

back away. He was even holding up a marker, as if it was a sword that could protect him in his own world.
“Don’t worry, I just want to talk.” I walked slowly to his desk and sat down with him, trying to soothe him, but he remained sitting two seats away from me.
“What’s your name, little boy?”
Just as expected, I got no responses again.

He just stared at me with a blank face and a slightly frightened look, so I asked the director and she said the little boy’ name is Jackson.
“Jackson, do you like drawing?”
I was expecting nothing, but I saw him nodding his head, still hesitated at that moment, but he looked much more enthusiastic than before.
I asked hem to hand me the marker so I could show him how to draw. Jackson stared at me for several second, and put his marker on the table and gave it a push toward me.
I suddenly smiled and saw hope, my heart was pounding quickly from excitement. I tried to contain myself so that I would not scare Jackson, and I slowly moved closer to him.
In the next two hours, I stayed with him and he started to tell me a lot about himself. I learned that his favorite food is cheeseburger and his favorite color is yellow. I was surprised that he was willing to tell me all these little things, but I was glad that he opened up. I felt accepted and trusted in his own world. Jackson is now slowly reaching out to others. He just need someone to lead him toward a bigger world than his own, and I was proud to be the

one.
Jackson left an unforgettable memory for me not just because he is special, but because that was the moment my commitmentment to life-long volunteering was solidified. The feeling of acceptance from children proved I could change someone’s day for better. Children allow me to see the world from a different perspective. From helping them, I understand a child’s need for love and attention, and I always feel the urge to help because it has become my second nature.
I am proud to be a volunteer and this will always be my favorite way of introducing myself.
“Hello, You can call me Iris. I am a volunteer, and I am ready and happy to help.”