Ryers Readers - The Smart Cookie

Episode Date: March 14, 2022

You can be smart in many different ways!

Let's do this. Today we're going to read The Smart Cookie by Jory John and Pete Oswald. Greetings. I'm a cookie. I live in a bakery on a street corner near a river. Come on in. Welcome to our little community. It is a warm and supportive place to spend some time. Pretty fantastic, huh? These days life is sweet, but my journey wasn't always a cakewalk. When I was younger, I couldn't have imagined fitting in here. For a long time, I didn't feel comfortable speaking up or sharing my ideas. I didn't feel like a smart cookie. I wanted to be a cookie who grew up and knew all the answers.

A cookie who felt confident in a group. A cookie who said, Aha! When solving a puzzle. Just like this. Aha! Looking back, I had some trouble in my early days. I went to a school in a gingerbread house.

Our teacher, Miss Biscotti, was kind and patient. When I arrived each morning, she'd wave at me and smile. But I didn't get the best grades. And I never raised my hand because I couldn't think of the answers as fast as the others. And I was the last to finish most tests. It wasn't because I didn't care and it wasn't because I didn't try. Sometimes I'd get distracted and mess up, even though I knew the material. Those were the most frustrating moments of all.

Once I misspelled the word dough, that was rough. Another time I added when I meant to subtract. Occasionally, we'd have a lesson where I had absolutely no idea what was happening. I just couldn't keep up. I imagined that my desk was a raft, and then I was completely lost at sea, because that's what it felt like. At night, I slept in a cookie jar. I had about six dozen roofmates.

I'd stay awake and stare out the window and worry. And it was this day after day after day. But then, something happened that changed everything. It all started with the homework assignments. Miss Biscotti requested our attention one afternoon. Tonight, I would like you to create something completely original, she announced. It can be anything you want. Please bring it to class tomorrow.

That was it. There was no further instructions. Miss Biscotti winked at me as I gathered my belongings. I felt like I had a million butterflies in my stomach. Create anything? Something original? Do tomorrow? Gulp.

When I got home, I immediately went to work. At first, I tried a cooking project. The results were half-baked. Next, I tried to hammer and nail something. It splintered immediately. Then, I tried making a sculpture. It was a complete bust. I wondered if I was about to find.

fail yet another assignment. I was stuck. I stared at the window and watched the rain hit the river. There was something mesmerizing about the water, how it moved in such a chaotic way, swirling around and around, yet ultimately figuring out exactly where it needed to go. Aha! Suddenly, I had an idea! I decided to write something original. Up to poem. I came up with a title based on how I had been feeling. My crummy days. After that, the rest of it seemed to fall into place. I wrote and I wrote. I lost track at time, an hour went by in a flash. Ah ha! I said when I was finished, I couldn't sleep that night. But it wasn't because I was worried. It was because I was excited. I was excited. I was

felt like I had really accomplished something. I felt smart. The following day, Miss Viscotti asked us for volunteers to share what we had created. One kid showed off his original frosting art. Another kid revealed her sprinkle distribution machine. It was neat seeing how everyone was good at such different things. Finally, Miss Viscotti turned to me. Would you like to share anything? she asked. Gulp. I gulped.

I thought I'd probably crumble under the pressure. But I made my way to the front of the classroom. I noticed my hands were shaking and my mouth went dry. This poem is called my crummy daze, I said, my voice cracking and then I read it aloud. As I spoke, I noticed some kids nodding at certain lines. Other kids laughed at parts that were supposed to be funny. As I built towards the finale, I felt myself becoming more confident and animated.

And in the end, everybody clapped and cheered. I promise you this, I'll never, ever forget it. Miss Biscotti was beaming. No one but you could have ever written that poem, she said. It was completely original. Aha! I had done it! I created something and shared it with the world. Well, my world at least. The rest of the day was a blur. By recess, I was already planning my next poem. I would call it my sweet morning. Aha! I thought when it came up with the title.

Later that afternoon, Miss Biscotti handed me a note. It said that I should keep on writing no matter What? That meant so much to me. School was a bit different after that. I wasn't so scared to raise my hand or ask a question or share my work. Sure, something still don't come as easily for me as they do for others. But now I know that you could be smart in many different ways. You don't have to have the answers to every question or suddenly be great at everything all at once, you just need a chance to try all kinds of things to find out who you are and what you like to do. As for me, I learned that I can write and I can think of great ideas, and I've found plenty of other things I'm good at too. I no longer feel lost at sea. It's more like floating down a river. And the

best part is, there's always more to learn, because we are all smart cookies. End. I hope you enjoyed that story. I wonder what we're going to read next.