Ask Cazden Pelts what he likes most about school, and he doesn't even have to think about it.

"I mostly like when I get to learn stuff," he says. "Also, I kind of like when I help people. That makes me happy in school."

He's in second grade at Vandalia. His teacher is Mrs. Jewell, and if you ask Cazden, she's one of the best. He also goes to Mrs. Doyle's room for walk-to-read. Between those two classrooms, recess with his friends, music with Mrs. Welch, and whatever else the day throws at him, Cazden — who goes by Kaz — seems to have second grade pretty well figured out.

But what makes Kaz remarkable isn't his schedule. It's the way he moves through his world.

He talks about a friend named Trace who wanted to play zombie dinosaurs at recess. Kaz turned him down. It's been weighing on him. "I do actually take it hard," he says. He's planning to go back and apologize — not because anyone told him to, but because it's the kind of thing that matters to him. At seven years old, he's already doing the quiet math of friendship: noticing when something felt off and choosing to make it right.

That instinct shows up everywhere. When Craig Williams, the interviewer, suggests that helping people might be a superpower, Kaz pushes back gently.

"It's not really a superpower," he says. "It's just I like to help."

He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. And maybe, to him, it is.

Kaz is also a kid with dreams — big ones and small ones, stacked right on top of each other. He plays soccer and has just started getting into basketball. He hit a shot through the ten-foot hoop once, couldn't repeat it the next day, and isn't worried about it. He likes the Mets. He likes to paint — sunsets, mostly, and kids playing outside. He sings calm songs in music class.

And when asked what he'd do with a magic wand — one wish, anything in the world — he doesn't hesitate.

"Make the world a better place," he says. "I want to stop a war. I want to stop the nuclear plant. To stop putting stuff in the water."

Then, without missing a beat: "I also just want to pick daisies."

That's Kaz. World peace and wildflowers, in the same breath. He carries things that are heavier than a second grader should have to carry, and he carries them with a kind of grace that most adults are still working toward. He forgives easily. He notices when people are hurting. He wants to help — not for credit, not because someone asked, but because it's who he is.

He's seven. And he's already doing the most important work there is.