It is not a secret that I love the Harry Potter series. I think it is an unprecedented phenomenon and
its legacy will surely turn it into a modern classic. I have actual ink under my skin to show my
appreciation for the novels, and I’m not ashamed of it. They are my favorite books. I’m aware that there are literary works out
there that are very brilliant, but Harry Potter was my first and greatest love,
therefore, based on principal alone, they will stay my favorite. With that being said, I’ll delve into a story about
the first day of my spring semester.
I was looking forward to one specific class for two reasons:
it was my first class for my English major (finally), and it was being taught
by my guidance counselor, who I found particularly smart and I was reassured that
he would be a good professor. The class certainly
did not turn out to be as spectacular as I expected.
(Just a side note: I’ve always felt a little bit like a
black sheep at my college due to the fact that I’m a commuter so I don’t really
see anyone outside of class which leads me to having very few friends at the
college. I also know that, as a person, I don’t fit in. Not to say that I don’t wedge myself in
sometimes, but it’s exhausting forcing friendships.)
When I sat down for this English class, I could almost
tangibly feel the aura of separation from everyone else in the room. Appearance wise, I don’t blend in. I was surrounded by girls with long,
straight, highlighted hair with Michael Kors bags, and Starbucks lattes on
their desks. I wear an Eskimo coat,
sweaters that declare “The entire cat population is my best friend,” and my
hair looks like a stereotypical hockey player’s haircut.
My professor wanted to make a point to get to know everyone
a little bit, which I appreciated, until he told us to answer the question, “What
is your favorite book?” (Perhaps you can predict how this story will end). As people were introducing themselves I had an
internal debate with myself about what I should say. I knew what my answer was, but I also wanted
to impress my professor with something more “sophisticated.” That was until my
more confident Julia woke up and told my timid little Julia to buck up and be
herself. So I decided upon my answer and
started listening to everyone’s responses.
They said things like French poetry books, great American epics, or
titles I had never even heard.
After each person went, my professor commented about their
answers, asked them questions about why they chose that/why they liked it, etc. I was starting to resort back to being timid,
but confident Julia was staring at me with that look she gives me sometimes and
I had to be brave. So my turn came and I said Harry Potter was my favorite. A couple of girls across the room started
snickering at my response. My professor looked at me, nodded briefly, and said “Thank
you,” then looked at the person behind me. I was so embarrassed I just wanted an
invisibility cloak. I was the only person to be snubbed by the professor, and I
was the only person in the room to say something other than things similar to
Jane Austen.
I left the classroom feeling so small and insignificant
until I opened my phone to Twitter, and saw that a Harry Potter fan page had
posted a collage of pictures of Neville through the movies and it made me
smile. It’s the only time I’ve been grateful for Twitter. I walked out of the classroom feeling shunned
for speaking from the heart, but at the same time I was reminded that Potterheads
are awesome. We are empathetic, and are scientifically
proven to be less prejudice than people who haven’t read HP. I felt connected to the fandom and it made me
feel included.
The moral of the story is to never let anyone make you feel
small or insignificant for being passionate about something. To whoever is
reading this, you’re bloody awesome. If
you ever feel unappreciated, just know that you’re special and I think you’re
spectacular. Don’t let the muggles get you down!