Yesterday, I dressed up like a princess. I combed my hair back and put on a headband. I unearthed from my closet the remnants of a play I acted in four years ago. I shed casual clothes for a puffy, blue-and-white dress and silver high heels. I also borrowed my mom’s pearl necklace.

Admittedly, I was trying to look like Cinderella. But I realized after that my skin was too dark to begin with. (Maybe I should have aimed for Pocahontas instead.)

When I entered my stage, I put on the airs of spoiled nobility. I held my head high and proudly pulled my skirt up as I walked. I frowned at the giddy, sweating kids in front of me. I glared at them as I began to spoke, “Ako si Prinsesa Maria. Kung hindi kayo tumahimik, ipapatay ko kayo sa bodyguards ko.” Evil, maybe, but the statement was received with roars of laughter. Afterwards, I continued, “Bakit niyo ako tinatawanan? Isusumbong ko kayo sa hari! Daaaadddddyyyyy!” That’s when I covered my face with my hands and pretended to cry. The children once again laughed like hyenas.

Yesterday, I dressed up like a princess because I wanted to do something different for the children of informal settlers in barangay Holy Spirit. KRIS Library – Quezon City has had a number of book-reading activities, but for this year’s “World Read Aloud Day”, I wanted a book to come to life.

“Once upon a time, a rich man had several daughters, but the youngest of them was the smartest and most beautiful of all. Her name was Beauty,” I read. I clutched a large storybook of Beauty and the Beast on my lap as the children excitedly sat in front of me. I would read the lines first, and then they would repeat after me. After every page, I asked them questions. But, I still maintained the airs of my glamorous exterior with scoffs and fake tears.

“Ngayon, ikukuwento ko naman sa inyo ang aking buhay.” I then proceeded, as I stood up on my stage, to act out the legend of the monkey. It was a tale of a Beauty being turned into a Beast because of her arrogance and spite for all things ugly. It was a tale I used to make them laugh and pull impromptu cast members from my audience; and it was a tale I used to teach a lesson.

When the loud laughter, the jeers, and the applause died down with the end of my story, I asked them, “Ano ang natutunan niyo sa ating mga kwento ngayon?” One girl’s hand shot up. She shouted, “Never judge a book by its cover!” It was a brilliant answer.

I think that the same answer could be said for these children. Their clothes may be worn. Their limbs may be skinny. But through our activities in KRIS Library, I had found out that some of them were so witty, so smart—and they just needed some motivation to truly seek out learning. The same could also be said for our library in Quezon City. It is only a makeshift garage that we had renovated with a simple budget, but already it has been given a new life and purpose through days like this one.

The same answer could also be said for people. News reports tell us that people are evil and cunning. Stories tell us that there are villains. Parents tell us that there are always criminals lurking in dark corners to lure us to death. But, so far, with KRIS Library, I have found out that people can be so generous and kind-hearted.

Yesterday, as the children listened and followed their arrogant princess, their parents received medicines thanks to the kindness of Ma’am Juris Umali Soliman, a P.R. Executive. She had donated four boxes of medicines for children—including Ceelyn Syrup, Tiki-Tiki, Amoxycillin Suspension, Solmux Syrup, and Biogesic. There was enough to go around for the children, for the fathers who humbly told us that their sons were sick, for the mothers who carried stick-thin infants on their breasts, for my 16-year old friend who now has a baby girl, and for the poorest families of the barangay.  

Indeed, a multitude of stories commingled to teach me the lesson that you can never judge a book by its cover. Beauties can be Beasts. Beasts can be Beauties.

 In the end, I was not a princess because of my cover—because of my clothes, or my shiny shoes, or my glittering headband. I was a princess because I felt that, yesterday, fairy tales were coming true. Barangay Holy Spirit is not a sly collective of slum areas; it was a magical kingdom with princes and princesses abounding in their books and stories. It was a place where noble families worked together to reap good lives.

And, yesterday, all of these came alive because of one true magic: the magic of hope.

Last Saturday, I joined a speech contest that could have landed me the opportunity to represent the country in the international contest in London this coming summer. I only finished second place, with one judge confiding, "It was a hard decision; very few points made the difference." Nevertheless, the winner was admittedly more experienced than me. Despite a disappointing loss, I had learned much from him.

They say that when God closes a door, somehow he opens a window. In my case, He did. In fact, He opened 29 windows. 

There was Christine, the little preschool girl who burst with so much excitement when you lay any open book in front of her. There was Justin, the tall, quiet boy, who we awarded as "Most Behaved" because he could listen and sit down even when we didn't ask him to. There was Jimboy, a Grade 3 student, who had a charming smile and a penchant for reading aloud. There was James, a darling little thing, who drew a circle with a squiggle inside it to represent his assigned volunteer, Kuya Noel. There was Gwen, who shyly approached me and handed a piece of White Rabbit candy. Then, there was also Rey, the troublemaker who had me reprimanding him many times more than I wanted to, because both of us knew I had to because I cared. 

They and 23 others were the windows that illuminated my soul the very next day after the competition. It was an affair I had been planning for weeks--a "Valentine's Date" in KRIS Library-Quezon City with poor children from Barangay Holy Spirit's slum areas. It is also an affair I will be thinking back to in weeks to come.

It started with an opening message from me and my dad, the founder of KRIS Library. There was only one rule, we told them: Behave. But, of course, to these little tadpoles, it was more of a suggestion. 

Amid the whispers of excitement, I divided the 29 children into 6 groups with one KRIS volunteer assigned to each. The first activity was "Getting to Know You". I had them sit in circles facing one another. I told them, "Choose one person in the group to draw on a piece of paper. Write his name, age, and favorite things." An hour later, we had a wall full of white papers with squiggles and stick figures and scribbles and colors and stains--and all 29 of them were mighty proud of their Mona Lisas and Last Suppers. 

The second activity was "Feeding". In their same places, they had a lunch of pancit and donuts (donuts, thanks to the kind gesture of Kuya VA and Ate Glo Ann, two of our volunteers). 

With stomachs full, we sent their minds running as they all sat down to read and be read books. This was originally planned for around 30 minutes, but we had to extend because the children wanted more. Those who could read tugged my shirt and asked for more books.Those who couldn't asked their volunteer ate or kuya for another story. Those who were far too young pointed at the colorful images deep-seated in the library shelves.

With much excitement, we descended into the final part of our day: the games. Thanks to the effort of another volunteer, Ate Linda, games were much-enjoyed. The kids were asked to spell with letter cards; they were asked to recall history lessons as they ran from choices A through C in a game like "Pera O Bayong"; and they even racked their brains to make their respective volunteers triumph in "Pinoy Henyo". 

The laughing and running and playing soon quieted down; it was time for goodbye. With the masterful origami skills of Mari Yamamoto, a Japanese volunteer who flew in all the way from Shanghai, the goodie bags were given in exquisite little paper bags; and some children even went home clutching swans with flapping wings or leaping frogs--all made out of paper. Likewise, many children are grateful to Ate Iza, another volunteer, for bringing preschool books to be given away. 

Each one of them left the library with a goodie bag, a book, and some school supplies. I also caught many donning bright smiles and unashamed laughter. Hopefully, they also each leave with the desire of coming back to the library.

Somehow, at the end of the day, I realized that I didn't just have 29 sunny windows. I also had 7 pillars of strength. These were the volunteers who sacrificed a whole weekend day for the children who came. They brought themselves, some gifts, and an admirable amount of selfless service. They have inspired me in so many ways. VA and Glo Ann Odevilas, Linda De Guzman, Mari Yamamoto, Noel Cabauatan, Iza Santos, and Anton Duane Nocum, I could not thank you enough.

Somehow, at the end of the day, I also realized that the young man who won in the speech competition deserves to be in London this summer. This is because, I think, I deserve to stay. Or because Christine, Jimboy, Rey, Justin, and the many others deserve to have an ate  who will let them tug her shirt, reach for books atop the shelves, and enunciate in a loud voice starting with, "Once upon a time..."

Either way, I now feel like a winner.