At Michigan Youth Alive, we build connections, not just assemblies. Each moment with students is a chance to weave stories that inspire, to fit the unique pieces of their lives into something hopeful and whole. In many ways, I see us as master builders, like in those Lego movies—taking our varied experiences and crafting something meaningful for every school we visit. It’s what makes our team so special.
But even the most prepared builders face unexpected challenges.
But even the most prepared builders face unexpected challenges.
But even the most prepared builders face unexpected challenges.
One week, packed with assemblies and long hours on the road, one of our team members fell ill. He was our go-to for a specific topic, someone who had honed that message like an artisan shaping wood. With barely twenty minutes’ notice, he had to leave, and I was left to cover his part. I scrambled to prepare but felt the weight of inadequacy settling in. Truthfully, I think it might have been my worst day on stage.
In that moment, desperate to connect, I reached for something real.
In that moment, desperate to connect, I reached for something real.
In that moment, desperate to connect, I reached for something real.
I told the students about my tics. My physical and audible tics, which I’ve had my whole life, have often been the elephant in the room. They’re obvious to anyone who spends time around me.
Growing up, I dreamed of speaking to audiences, but people would tell me, “You’ll never make it as a speaker with those tics.” Their words stung, but I didn’t let them define me. I shared how, despite the doubts, I’ve spoken to about 750,000 people over the past twelve years. My tics didn’t stop me; they became part of my story.
As I wrapped up, the gym quieted, the usual rustling and chatter replaced with a stillness I hadn’t expected.
And then, through the crowd, I saw him.
And then, through the crowd, I saw him.
And then, through the crowd, I saw him.
He was a giant of a young man—at least 6’7” and built like a tank, moving toward me fast and with purpose. Honestly, I braced myself; he didn’t look like he planned to slow down. But as he reached me, he threw his massive arms around me and broke down.
“I have tics too,” he said, his voice catching on the words. “I thought I was alone.”
“I have tics too,” he said, his voice catching on the words. “I thought I was alone.”
“I have tics too,” he said, his voice catching on the words. “I thought I was alone.”
We stood there for a while, his sobs heavy against my shoulder. I told him he wasn’t alone, that his tics didn’t have to dictate his dreams. I told him the labels others tried to put on him didn’t have to stick. When he finally let go, his face had transformed—tears gave way to a grin so wide it seemed to light up the gym.
That moment stays with me.
That moment stays with me.
That moment stays with me.
It’s easy to focus on polished words, rehearsed stories, and perfectly executed assemblies. But sometimes, it’s the imperfections—the cracks in the surface—that let the light shine through. That day, I thought I had failed. Instead, my vulnerability became a lifeline for a boy who needed to hear it.
Invite MI Youth Alive to your school and give your students the gift of inspiration and self-discovery. Through heartfelt, dynamic assemblies, our team shares powerful messages of hope, resilience, and the courage to embrace their unique journeys. We connect with students on a personal level, encouraging them to overcome obstacles and believe in their potential. With a passion for making a meaningful impact, MI Youth Alive leaves students with a renewed sense of purpose and self-worth. Bring this transformative experience to your school and witness the difference it can make in the lives of your students.