By: Marco Angelo B. Mercado
It takes a village to raise a child and it takes a Hogsmeade village to raise wizard. What does it take to raise lawyers? I thought to myself as I finished my first Hogwarts Legacy playthrough after a bad recitation.
Children are molded by not just a single home but an entire community of people and a safe, healthy, and nurturing environment—a support system.
I used to be that child. My parents, my grandparents, my aunts, and my uncles have raised me so well as if the world depended on it. I was the first grandson. At an early age, they would focus on me, teaching me things and concepts that a normal baby would otherwise know, such as learning to read before turning two, doing basic arithmetic around three, and memorizing the names and flags of different countries. I was the Chosen One!
One time, my elementary teachers visited my lola to solicit funds for a school event. She showed them that I could associate a flag with its name. She would point to a flag chart posted on a wall by my crib, and I would scream, “Canada! Israel! Ireland! Russia! Thailand” and so on. The teachers were too shocked—scared, even—that they thought I was some spawn of the devil. Until this day, I think about those teachers and how they gave me hope of receiving my Hogwarts letter due to my devilish wits and magic. Oh, to have been the Chosen One!
I continued to be my family’s “golden boy” even until I graduated college. Having earned a degree from a reputable university, they were so happy and proud of me. I was not.
Enter: Imposter Syndrome and a multitude of mental health [mis]adventures.
Things happened. Love came and went (and returned!). Most of my friends went straight to finding jobs. I was still the “golden boy” yet nothing had lined up. The village was in anticipation. They kept telling me I could achieve great things. “Well then, great things I shall chase,” I said.
Most ambitiously, I enrolled in law school. I met and befriended different people. Curiously, they, too, were, in their own right, the Chosen Ones. Most of them were championed by their respective villages. In others, I saw that they were simultaneously the child and the village, raising and championing themselves.
In law school, I felt deep guilt as though I was wasting my family’s support. The first few failures of law subjects I could never forget were too much to take in. But after I admitted it to my village, they were nothing but supportive, even more so than before.
Then, I decided to join an organization, which was probably one of the best decisions I made. As a photographer, I got the opportunity to cover the release of this year’s Bar results at the Supreme Court. I saw triumph glistened in the parents’ eyes. I captured weeping faces. Gleeful screeches enveloped the place. I could only wonder what they went through in those four or more years. Each passer, each new lawyer, is a champion of their own village.
Indeed, a village is what it takes to raise a child. To raise a lawyer, however, I now believe that it takes unyielding love and support.
THE BARRISTER 