You know that feeling — when people pat you on the back for the volunteer work you do, and you buff, then admire, your shiny halo — when in fact you know you’re the one benefiting from volunteering?

I do.

Late last spring I began volunteering as an English tutor at Vashon Island School District’s StudentLink, a school program that provides an alternative path for earning the credits required for high school graduation.

Having a dramatic streak, I worried about what I might encounter in an alternative high school.

What I found, however, were articulate and keen students who didn’t need a rescuer. Rather, I serve as a schedule anchor-point to help with schoolwork, as in: “At this time, we’ll meet here and do this.”

And so, I find myself in conversation around literature with capable young adults — like a book club of two!

My first big lesson: It’s not about me.

Occasionally students miss their appointments, and still being childlike at times, don’t necessarily communicate effectively — or at all.

At first, I bristle. I take it personally and think I should take a stand. But I wonder (with the help of seasoned and caring teachers) — do I want to make a point — or help? I have the opportunity to assist when the students show up ready, willing and able to work.

The educators who showed me forbearance, even when I was my most chuckleheaded teenage self, probably saved my life. I think they saw something in me I couldn’t see for myself.

And get this: during my first session, I meet a young woman reading Homer’s “Odyssey.” I learn about the epic poem I have never had a chance to read. As the plot unfolds, she teaches me about this story of bravery, foolhardiness, loyalty and revenge.

I feel sheepish, but enjoy the ride. The story is like a soap opera replete with thunderbolts and oceanic whirlpool holes. (I look up “The Odyssey for Dummies.”)

One student introduces me to “Jungle,” a memoir written Yossi Ginsberg, who as a young man became lost and survived several harrowing weeks in an unchartered part of the Amazon jungle.

As reader, you are omniscient and can see the tragedy lying in wait in an individual’s choices. I sniff at the impetuous and self-regarding protagonist making dumb decisions in “Jungle” – until I remember myself at that age and how I would have made the same mistakes.

Over the summer, a student and I read one of J.K. Rowling’s “Harry Potter” books and J.R.R. Tolkien’s “The Hobbit.”

We consider how the theme of good versus evil has run through human literature for eons: “As old as dirt,” says my tutee.

We discuss when, if ever, it’s okay to lie.

And I finally have a practical reason to delve into Joseph Campbell’s “The Hero With a Thousand Faces.”

We learn about myth, and how human stories — regardless of where on earth they spring — have certain characteristics in common throughout time, as if stories make up part of the human psyche, part of why and how we exist.

Spending time with young adults, I consider, who’s helping who, exactly?

This fall, a student and I have begun reading Sherman Alexie’s “The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian,” a novel that explores aspects of an American Indigenous culture from the protagonist’s point of view. A kid has to navigate two worlds where he feels he doesn’t necessarily fit into either. With wry humor, the book provides an unblinking look at poverty and its grind on the human spirit, and the kid’s way forward.

I remember when I underestimated my three-year-old son, projecting what I believed about three-year-olds. (This lesson was called: “Three-year-olds have ideas of their own.”)

I am not sure why I underestimated these students.

Maybe I’m just out of practice and full of beans. I suspect sometimes I’m having more fun than my tutees. I offer to double or hey, triple the time one student and I work together over the summer. Why not every day? Too gracious to blurt “no thanks,” his eyeballs dart from left and right, as if looking for the nearest exit.

So rather than hiding behind praise from the staff at StudentLink and friends’ positive feedback, I’m the one thanking them – they’re doing me the favor.

Marie Koltchak lives, works and writes on Vashon Island. She’ll make room on her calendar for volunteering in a chocolate factory.