10 Things Only Immaculate Conception Academy Students Can Relate to

White and blue, immaculate for youuuuu! #ICAnRelate
IMAGE Luisa Tan
  1. You need to follow strict dress codes.

Your blouse and skirt length should be the proper length. Always bring your ID and never wear colored bra. God forbid you wear ped socks, because anything that isn't two and a half inches above the ankle is enough cause for an infraction. Also: ICA. Jacket. Only.

  1. Always leave room for the Holy Spirit.

When it comes to guys, touching is not allowed. Space is mandatory in every soirée, prom, and ball. Because apparently male skin contact = scandal. 

  1. We get excited about Bacon Day!

Whether you buy food from Anna's, N&W, Big Burp, or Rainbow Caf, you're always excited about Bacon Day, when you would race to the counters and watch in anticipation as the ate hands you a carton filled with bacon, eggs, and rice. Mmm.

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  1. You are expected to be fluent in Mandarin.

Non-Chinese schools, to your chagrin, would ask you how to say different things in Mandarin. Dui bu qi—we're not fluent! Chinese classes mostly consisted of exaggerated hand gestures and garbled "Chinglish" in the hopes that your lao shi would understand you. (Worst case scenario: telling her "Ni hen piao liang" to get a better oral test grade.) Other Chinese schools judged you for your dishonorable Mandarin skills, to which you would say: Shen me(??)-ever!


Bonus: #ICAnKaKung When other schools would assume your fave Disney princess was Mulan, and you couldn't even lecture them on stereotyping because it was the #truth.

  1. You have to scale The Great Wall + deal with Xavierians.

Being ICAn, chances are you have The Great Wall, meaning you an only date Chinese guys. And what is the nearest Chinese school to ICA? Yup, Xavier. It was frustrating when everyone assumed your future bae would be Xavierian, and you couldn't argue when you saw the number of ICAns who married Xavierians. 

  1. You count the holes on the DTASC ceiling whenever you got bored.

The DTASC has housed everything from your first Holy Communion to your graduation rites. But on many a tedious day, perhaps when you were running rounds during PE or trying not to fall asleep during First Friday Mass, you'd end up craning your neck at the ceiling, counting its numerous holes until you were duling. (Why does it have so many holes, anyway? How does that help in soundproofing the auditorium?) 

  1. Cheering your heart out during Intrams!

December gets you excited for the annual two-day event, wherein four high school batches would fight it out in volleyball, chess, table tennis, badminton, and cheerdance. Aside from donning your respective batch colors and glittery face stickers, you fill the DTASC with deafening screams and choreographed cheers in support (and subsequently lose your voice for the next few days.)


  1. You pray for suspension at even the tiniest drop of rain.

Amidst sleepless nights over IP and exams, you would pray for suspension. You would refresh your Facebook news feed every second, and if you were in school, you would will the blaring of the PA system.

Bonus: #ICAnKaKung You've tweeted at Mayor Guia Gomez in an attempt to wake her from her mahjong-induced slumber.

  1. Chinese Holidays: Winning microscopic hopia every Mid-Autumn Festival and watching performances during Chinese New Year.

Ah, Chinese holidays, where red shirts resurface. Not that you're complaining! The dice bowl game every September puts your luck to the test (even if you always won sixth prize, not Chong Wan), and the lion and dragon dance never disappoints! 

  1. You are expected to be a "woman of faith and service."

Sure, this motto has been parodied numerous times, but admit it: despite all the stress and pressure ICA has put you through, you've emerged with just the right amount of resilience and kindness. From greeting MIC sisters (Sister Irene!) to guards (Mang James!), from studying hard and always doing your best, and from being proud of yourself and other successful alumnae (#ICAnYan!)—ICA has made you a better person. And for that, you're forever grateful.


Send this to a fellow ICAn and share more distinctly ICAn traditions in the comment box below! Want to write about *your* school? Let us know!









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Caitlin Anne Young

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Kathreece Quizon 18 hours ago

Today, I am sharing my mother's story. I wish my mother was a constant in my life, like an angel who guards you to sleep and comes right there when you called. But angels come back home too, in heaven where they always belonged, and my mother went back a little early. My mother died when I was 13 years old. My last memory of my mother: Letting go when you are not yet ready is a very cruel thing that one has to ever experience. It is a sudden wave of total sadness and desperation crashing into your very core.

On the 28th of July 2013, we went to a resort in Bataan for the employees’ getaway. My parents own a 7-11 franchise, and it had always been a tradition to give their store clerks a get-together every year. I remember very well the last breakfast I had with my mother. The Sunday morning sky was clear and sunny, and the sea was calm and tranquil as we ate our breakfast on a cottage under the tall palm trees. She shared with us a strange dream she had the other night. She dreamt about an unknown woman holding an ice pick chasing her down on a dimly lit street, then she woke up just before the woman could grab her arm. We never knew what that dream exactly meant and now, I wished I never knew its meaning. After breakfast, my family and our employees decided to take a swim at the beach. The day was nice. The morning air may be chilly but the sun’s kiss on our skins gave us warmth. It was perfect. Everything is fine and the tides are low which made it very enjoyable to swim. We swam a little farther from the shore and we stopped to the point where the water reached our shoulders. We were talking about the good things in life and reminiscing the good old days. Those are the things that I’ve always loved about my family because I never had a meaningless conversation with them.

A few moments later, we heard a panicking call for help from one of our store clerks. It was Rachel. She was struggling to keep her head above water. She was already drowning but the odd thing was, she was only a few feet away from us. At first, we thought she was just playing around until we felt the sand in our toes dissolving like powder. It felt like as if the seafloor submerged deeper. I remembered sighting the shore and it seemed so close yet very far away. We were all panicking at that time. No one knew how to swim except my mother so without having second thoughts she swam towards Rachel and called out to my father, “Yung mga anak mo! Dalhin mo sa pampang yung mga anak mo!” and I never thought I already heard my mother’s last words to my father. I was paddling like a dog, gasping for air, as I say a little prayer to God to take us all back to safety. I felt my father grabbing our swimsuits, trying to lift our bodies so we can breathe even though he was also struggling to keep himself alive. Once I felt my toes touch the ground, there came a veil of relief that covered my whole body. As soon as my father and my sister made it to the shore we started calling out for help. There were no lifeguards on duty at that time, no personnel, nor guards. I saw my mother already floating in her stomach. We sighted a boat sailing nearby, we waved our hands and called for their attention. They almost ignored us because they cannot comprehend what we were trying to relay but the good thing was a passenger in the boat noticed my mother and Rachel in the water.

My mother’s body was laid on the shore. She was unconscious and her whole body was pale as white. My father performed CPR but my mother couldn’t get the water come out of her mouth because the food she ate earlier got stuck in her throat and blocked the passage. A concerned tourist offered his car to deliver my mom in a nearby health center or a clinic of some sort since the hospital was miles away from the beach and she needs immediate care. My father told us to stay in the hotel room and prepare mom’s belongings so that if she wakes up she has fresh clothes to change into. My sister and I finished packing our things and waited for our father to pick us up from the hotel. I was crying and I couldn’t stop myself because I was afraid to lose my mother. I couldn’t imagine what my life would be if I lose her that day. Moments lasted until we heard a knock on the door and it was my father, crying, and apologizing to us. He hugged me and my sister tightly and saying, “Sorry, anak, sorry hindi na uuwi si mommy, sorry hindi ko nasagip si mommy”. And that was the moment I felt sinking into the ground. I never knew what to feel at first. I was numb because my worries were now actually a reality that I have to live in. I was at shock because I am now one of the kids in those cliche teleseryes who lost a mother at an early age. We went to the health center to settle everything. The clinic was very small and it sure did lack equipment. He told us to stay in the car. I wanted to see my mom, but I know he never wanted us to see her like that. I didn’t know what to feel. I was having high anxiety levels that my stomach is churning and I wanted to vomit. I got off the car and entered the health center to find the restroom. When I was finding my way around, I passed by the emergency room. I saw my mother lying in a foldable bed, lifeless, her hands dangling from the side of the bed, she has violet bruises on her skin, and her body was partially covered with a white towel.

That is when it sunk into me that she’s dead and never coming back. My father asked the others to just commute back to Manila because what we need right now is comfort from our family. The drive back home was one of the most painful memory I had as a kid. My father was in the steering wheel crying his eyes out. We drove from Bataan to Pampanga. We went home to my grandmother’s house, the nearest house that we can call “home” because how are we still going to be “home” without her?

Once we reached Pampanga, we stopped over to the gas station and my father made some calls to our loved ones to tell them that my mother passed away. He then called my aunt to help him arrange for the funeral. We got home and my grandmother hugged us and told us to get some rest. Already tired of crying, I went to sleep for a while. I woke up and for a second, I thought everything that happened the other day was all just a dream. That she was there in Manila, sitting on the couch reading some furniture magazine, waiting for us to go home. But that’s how cruel life is, right? I got up and weirdly, I felt sands in the bed. It was gray, just like the ones on the beach. I thought maybe it was just dirt but it was a fair amount to believe that maybe she visited us before she left. - ?

- The part of how I conquered the grief of her passing is shared in my personal blog. I felt the need to share my story with everyone since she's the woman I look up to. Feel free to visit my personal blog too when you have the time. I love writing my stories. Thank You! link: http://qkathreece.wixsite.com/kathreecequizon/post/breaking-waves

Ry Fabella 18 hours ago

Hello! Sharing my first story in Wattpad!

TITLE: Whisper to the Stars AUTHOR: https://www.wattpad.com/user/withniji

GENRE: Teen Fiction/Romance STORY LINK: https://my.w.tt/Y3HeLPe9K7

Description: Ingrid Gianna "Gigi", a breadwinner of her family, has kept her feelings hidden for Hayme, her long time high school crush, because she has too much responsibilities in life; believing that she has no time for love. But, no matter how hard she tries to suppressed it for years, fate always finds its way....like it was already written in the stars.

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