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I Took a Harry Potter Class in College

Here are the things I've learned!
IMAGE Renz Perez

One of the first books I owned as a kid was Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by J.K. Rowling. I was too young to read it then, but it didn't stop me from becoming a Potterhead. Naturally, when I found out that there was a Harry Potter elective literature in De La Salle University, where I was studying, I couldn't contain my excitement and wanted to enroll immediately. But since the literature department only offers it once a year, I didn't get in until my third year of trying. 

Fast forward to our first day in class when I was seated in the classroom and eagerly waiting for the class to begin with my fellow Potterheads. Our professor, Prof. Anne Frances Sangil, arrived wearing a purple, velvet robe that greatly resembled Professor Minerva McGonagall's in the movies. She said her speech and we were all moved by it, but she immediately warned us that we had to work extra hard because she had high expectations from her students since we are all big Harry Potter fans.

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Even though the subject took most of my time and effort (to the point that I almost forgot about my majors and other classes), taking Prof. Sangil's class was one of the best decisions I've ever made, and dare I say, the best one I took in my entire stay at the university. It gave me a lot of wonderful memories and made me realize a lot of things, which I wrote about below. 

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  1. "Your house will be like your family."

What Professor Minerva McGonagall said in the first book and movie was proven true in our class. Like the start of the school year at Hogwarts, we were all sorted into the four Hogwarts houses. I was sorted in Gryffindor and my bond with the people in my house has gone beyond being Potterheads. I couldn't be more thankful to be blessed with new best friends (shoutout to the Gryffs of Batch 12!).

  1. Nothing worth having comes easy.

We all thought we knew HP so well but we were wrong! We had to come prepared, so even if we've already read the book and watched the movie, we had to re-read the ones we were going to discuss for the week. That's if we wanted to ace the trivia questions which were our quizzes; weekly parchments, which were our essays; as well as the characters, spells, and the events that happened per chapter in every book. And we certainly wanted to get a perfect score, because it meant earning points for our house to win the House Cup!

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  1. Harry's story is just like every other hero's tale.

Prof. Sangil discussed Joseph Campbell's The Hero's Journey and how it is the basis of almost every known literary hero's tale ever told. This has helped me analyze stories better and widen my consciousness in different literary pieces. It also made me realize that you don't have to be a certain age to be a hero. Case in point: Harry!

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  1. Have constant vigilance.

Reading between the lines is to have depth in understanding and promote critical thinking, and this class has reinforced that on me. When reading Harry Potter, one must go beyond the surface to carefully understand what J.K. Rowling is trying to impose.

  1. Don't forget to have fun.

We all compete for house points, but being competitive shouldn't be cause for drama. The class exists so we can learn all about and beyond the magic of the wizarding world and have fun along the way. And I think that's what brought us together, aside from our love for Harry Potter, that is.

Would you enroll in this elective? What have you learned from reading J.K. Rowling's books?

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Trisha Duncan
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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

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