I Wasn’t Broken. I Just Needed to Be Seen.
By Liam Mischuk
Have you ever played a video game on hard mode without knowing it? That was pretty much my entire school experience.
Everyone else seemed to know the controls, while I was just trying to stay alive. Teachers called me lazy, distracted, not applying myself… I heard it so often that it eventually became white noise. I wasn’t trying to fail, but nothing ever came easy.
And then there were my siblings…
When Your Siblings Are the Gold Standard
My brother Quinton and my sister Emma were perfect students. They were class presidents, scholarship winners, student leaders, and always surrounded by friends. Both of them went to Trinity Western University (TWU), a private Christian university in Langley, British Columbia. Quinton became the student association president in 2019-2020. Emma was on the TWUSA student council. They are the kind of kids teachers talk about for years. I know because my mom works on TWU grounds (at CanIL) and hears about it when people see our last name on her name tag.
And me? Well, I got compared to them. A lot.
At my first parent-teacher interview in kindergarten, my teacher actually started the meeting with my mom by saying, “He’s no Emma!” That pretty much set the tone for how school went for me. My siblings thrived. I survived.
Even my younger brother, Jacob, had an easier time being understood. He was diagnosed with dyslexia in Grade 2. It was more visible, something teachers could identify and support. He got tools, learning plans, and extra help, and it made a big difference.
I saw how different it looked when someone’s struggle was understood.
Rock Bottom in Grade 7
In the winter of Grade 7, I wiped out while tobogganing and broke my collarbone. I missed nearly two months of school recovering. When I finally went back… I thought I was ready… but within a week, the bullies picked up where they left off. Shoving me into lockers and teasing me for being different. Teachers continued to tell me and my mom that I was lazy… everyone made sure I knew I didn’t belong.
One day, it all became too much. I was found unconscious in the boys’ bathroom, having suffered a full-blown anxiety attack that literally knocked me out. I spent the rest of the day in the hospital. After that, the principal told my mom, “We aren’t equipped to help him.” Translation: you’re on your own. (My mom “homeschooled” me for the rest of the year.)
At the time, nobody knew I was autistic. Nobody knew I had ADHD (Nobody, except for my mom, she knew, but no one would listen to her). I just knew I was different, and that school was exhausting.
I managed to limp my way through high school and even tried my first year of university at TWU in the fall of 2021. Yes, I attended at a pretty difficult time. The world wasn’t exactly back to normal, COVID restrictions were still in place, and everything still felt uncertain. Yes, I signed up for 6 classes in the first semester… But even with that context, I crashed hard. My brain couldn’t handle the pressure, the change, or the expectations.
It wasn’t until I was almost 21 that I finally got the answers. I received a late autism diagnosis and ADHD diagnosis. Suddenly, my entire life made sense. I wasn’t broken. I wasn’t “bad.” My brain works differently.
Read more about that journey here, from my mom’s perspective.
The People Who Saw Me
Even though most of my school experience felt like a fight, there were a handful of people who actually saw me. A few Educational Assistants stand out. My Improv teacher in High school. They worked hard to help me get through school when most others had given up. They showed up for me, listened, and made sure I had what I needed to make it through each day. Without them, I might not have made it this far.
At Ontario Pioneer Camp, my counsellors and leaders treated me like a person, not a problem (read about it here; this is what happens when you have a mom who is an OG blogger). After years of being a camper, before I finished high school, I participated in their Leaders in Training (LIT) program. Eventually, I became a camp counsellor myself, leading cabins of middle school boys. I was responsible for their safety, emotional support, and challenges of homesickness, as well as helping them survive the wild ride that is middle school. I knew what they were going through because I had lived it.
Finding Purpose in Helping Others
I spent years as a kid/teen volunteering (at first, being “voluntold”) at the church my parents planted and pastored in Kitchener, Ontario: nursery, Sunday school, babysitting, and youth events. After high school, I worked a summer for Youth for Christ, mentoring teens who were going through real-life struggles that were far bigger than most people realized. That’s when I learned that showing up and being consistent make the biggest difference.
A year ago, I started volunteering at the church we’ve attended since moving to BC in the fall of 2022. I colead a group of Grade 6 boys every week in a youth program that has over 200 students. This year, I’ve started helping with my dad’s seniors ministry and working part-time at a senior care home, serving meals. Whether it’s kids or seniors, it all comes down to the same thing: people want to feel like they matter.
That’s what this whole thing is about for me. Belonging.
When you spend most of your life feeling invisible, you realize how powerful it is to finally be seen. That’s why I’m going back to TWU this fall. I’ve been accepted into their brand-new Educational Assistant program. I want to be that person for kids who feel like I did. The one who notices them, who sticks around. The one who helps them believe that they’re not broken either.
Who I Am And Who I’m Becoming
I’ll be 23 in September. I’m a gamer, a Marvel and Star Wars geek, and a guy who still thinks Disney magic is real. I’m loyal to a fault, laugh way too hard at my own jokes, and will never stop believing the Canucks might win it all one day. I love leading, listening, and lifting others up. I’ve got a soft spot for underdogs, probably because I’ve always felt like one.
Yes, I’m neurodivergent (my mom says neurospicy). I’m autistic. I have ADHD. Those labels are part of me, but they are not all of me. I’m not broken, and I’m not a puzzle to be solved. I’m just someone who took a little longer to figure out his place in the world.
And now that I have found mine, I want to help others find theirs.
If I can be the reason even one student feels like they belong, like they matter, that would be more than pretty cool.
*Parts of this story were originally in Liam’s university application essay. The words, the sentiment, the heart, they’re all his. I just helped shape the writing. I’m proud beyond words.
