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    My Graduate School Story: Delayed but not Denied.

    Posted On 08/02/2020

    Summer 2014, I stood on the stage of the final ceremony of a summer camp where I was a counselor. I said,” My name is Kymmie Cartledge, and my goal is to get my master’s in higher education.” This was the summer before my senior year of college. I hadn’t even looked at grad school programs, but that statement felt right.

    My major was elementary education, so teaching was the next logical step. However, I knew classroom teaching wasn’t for me after my junior year. Changing my major when I only needed two classes and to complete student teaching wasn’t the move. I didn’t know what I would have even changed it to. I did know that I enjoyed the work that I was able to accomplish through extracurricular activities. So the idea of working in higher education excited me.

    Jumping straight into graduate school wasn’t ideal for me. After 16 years of school, I was tired, and I needed a break. I had a friend tell me that if I didn’t go straight to graduate school, I’d probably never go back to school. Being 21 and having no clue what I truly wanted out of life was stressful.

    Ultimately, I decided to complete a year of service with City Year. I figured a gap year would give me time to plot my move. My plan was to attend grad school after my year of service. I wanted to be a full-time grad student immersed in the curriculum while completing an assistantship program. I also wanted to move halfway across the country and experience something completely new. I spent the entire first half of my City Year experience looking for graduate programs and applying to a school that met all of my requirements.

    The problem, I didn’t get accepted into the one program I applied to. I was an alternate, but a spot never opened up for me. At first, I was upset. However, I decided to focus my efforts on applying for a job. I was hired as a 4th-grade teacher, and I quit a few months later. I was 23 and still confused, but I realized that the world was wide open for me to explore.

    The two years I would’ve spent in the original program I applied to were the two years I spent jumping from job to job, moving from city to city, and living paycheck to three days before the next paycheck. I was broke, and I felt kinda broken. Although those two years were challenging, not getting accepted to that program was probably the best thing that could have happened. I learned that with every cloud, there is a silver lining.

    During those two years, I started my blog (that you’re currently reading) and a business (that I’m currently rebranding). I had opportunities that I never would have had otherwise. I’ve met so many people and students during that time who have helped me grow. I’ve even lost a lot of friends on the journey, but hey, that’s life. Because I didn’t move away, I watched my niece grow up in real-time instead of via FaceTime. I was close to home when my dad had a heart attack. I also discovered the beauty and hidden gems that my hometown had to offer.

    May 2019, I decided to apply to grad school again. Earlier that year, I went through a bit of a hard time mentally and emotionally. I was also dealing with some health issues that I still have to deal with currently. One day I was sitting at work, and I told myself I needed to prepare myself for the next level. I decided to apply for grad school at my alma mater. I filled out my application and FAFSA on the same day, and I emailed my essay a week later.

    I started grad school in August 2019, pursuing a Master’s in Higher Education Administration. Although the program wasn’t exactly the experience I had imagined for myself, I was looking forward to learning more about a field I’m passionate about. Balancing a full-time job, a business, 3-4 courses, and Saturday/Sunday in-person classes once a month was a lot to manage. My first semester was pretty smooth once I got into the groove of school.

    Halfway through my second semester, everything shut down due to COVID-19. I suddenly found myself recalibrating to adjust to a new way of life in my life. My last semester went from hybrid to online, and that was a difficult adjustment to make. The week before my final semester started, my grandfather passed away. The day after his funeral, I attended class virtually in the passenger’s seat of my sister’s car while riding back home. I had my laptop and iPad sitting in my lap while being hooked up to the hot spot on my phone.

    A few weeks later, on my 27th birthday, George Floyd was killed, and what would have been Breonna Taylor’s 27th birthday was two weeks after that. Having to live through a pandemic, a toilet paper shortage, a civil rights movement, and an election year while completing a master’s degree is a lot to unpack. I’m an empath, so I was attempting to process my emotions and feelings. There were days where I just sat and procrastinated because I had nothing left to give. But I found the energy to persevere and completed my program with a 4.0 GPA.

    Now that I’ve completed a second degree, the real work is in how I choose to apply the knowledge I’ve gained. For me, it’s not about labels, degrees, or titles, but it’s about using my education and my story to inspire others to create the life they seek to live.

    There are people my age (and younger) who are doctors, married with kids, homeowners, and/or making way more money than me. While I could easily get distracted and fixated on the curated social media highlight reel of others, I choose to stay in my lane and focus on making it to my own personalized finish line. I’m not in a hurry, and you shouldn’t be in a hurry either.

    If you’re reading this and you feel like you’re behind, just know you’re right on schedule. Take your time and take life one day at a time. I believe that setbacks, no’s, and not right now can be a blessing. What is meant for you will be yours in due season.

    -Kymmie
    A 20 something with two degrees

    Romans 8:28
    Galatians 6:9

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    Why I Choose to be a Tortoise and a Hare. My Race is Different Than Yours.

    Posted On 10/08/2017

    Why I Choose To Be A Tortoise And A Hare – My Race Is Different Than Yours

     

    Why I Choose to be a Tortoise and a Hare – My Race is Different Than Yours

    I remember learning about Aesop’s Fables when I was in second grade. The most notable fable is the Tortoise and the Hare. In short, the super slow tortoise challenges the supersonic hare to a race. The hare is confident. So confident that he decided to take a nap during the race. The tortoise ends up crossing the finish line before the hare as a result. The moral of the story? “Slow and steady wins the race.”

     

    The Tortoise Spirit

    It wasn’t until recently that I started feeling like a tortoise. (Your twenties have a way of doing that to you.) I’ve been out of college for two years and most of the ladies in my education cohort are in  their 3rd year of teaching. Meanwhile, I’m on my sixth job in the two years I’ve been out of college. On top of that,  I have yet to complete a full year of teaching. It’s easy for me to compare myself to other people who are  “further along” than I am. But if I ran my race at the same pace as everyone else, my life would be totally different.

    I have goals and I will achieve my goals. If I have to ride on the struggle bus there, I’m content with that. By moving slower, I have the ability to really take in my journey. Moving slower also allows for more distractions.  Distractions can be negative, but they can also provide the opportunity to discover a new skill or meet a new person to add to your cheering squad.

    The Hare Isn’t All Bad

    I do my best to see the good in everyone and this is no different. The hare is confident, lightning fast, and knows how to take a break (something I need to learn how to do).

    Think about this.  Most musicians release an album, then they promote it non-stop. You see them on every TV show and hear them on every radio station. They’re performing on every music award show and every other night while on their multi-city tour. And after a year or two of going nonstop, they basically fall off of the face of the earth. During their time away from the spotlight they are still making money and they aren’t worried about who is going to “catch up” with them. When they make their return, their fans are still there for them and the cycle repeats.

    There is absolutely nothing wrong with acknowledging that you are better at something than someone else.  In fact, if you have a talent, you should embrace it and share it with the world. That’s exactly what the hare did. The only thing I would discourage is arrogance as it was the hare’s fatal flaw. Be confident, but stay humble. Just be careful not to downplay yourself in the process.

    You Need to Have a Hare to Tortoise Ratio

    When it comes to using technology, I can learn something new in a few minutes. I’m great at using the internet to find solutions to my problems. If you want me to fix a car, I’m tortoise all the way. But believe me you, I’ll use Google and  YouTube to figure out how to fix it and it’ll be done correctly. I have to rely on my hare instincts to get me through my tortoise moments.

    My current position as a reading interventionist was designed for someone with years of teaching experience and degrees for days. But there I was interviewing for a job that I wasn’t exactly qualified for. I was honest that I wasn’t as knowledgeable about the subject matter (my tortoise), but my creativity, my work ethic, willingness to learn, and my youth (my hares) got me through the door. Fast forward a few months later, everywhere I turn, someone is telling me how awesome of a job I’m doing. If I counted myself out before I even tried, God only knows where I would be. I realized that I can’t let my deficits outshine my strengths.

    Although the tortoise and the hare are different, both understood what they were capable of and they were confident in their abilities. The hare knew he could move fast and had no worries. The tortoise knew he moved slower, but he didn’t care. He was passionate about finishing the race, not how long it took him to do so. Self-awareness and confidence go hand in hand. You need both in order to finish your race.

    At the End of the Day, We’re All Running a Different Race

    With social media, it’s easier to feel “behind”. A lot of my internet friends are super ambitious and jumping over all types of hurdles, while sometimes I feel like I’m gasping for air. I’m guilty of being so busy watching another person’s race that I’ve ended up tripping over my own feet in the process. I’ve learned that one person’s finish line might be another person’s mid-point. One person’s victory might feel like defeat to someone else. We all want to obtain success, but success doesn’t feel the same for everyone. Your finish line is for you and you only. My finish line is for me and me only. It makes it easier to cheer for someone else when you don’t see them as your competition.

    It’s okay to be a tortoise. It’s okay to be a hare. It’s okay to be both. Fast or slow it doesn’t matter.

    As long as you finish the race.

    -Kymmie

    Are you a tortoise, a hare, or both? I’d love to hear your thoughts. Leave me a comment below.

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    My Mom’s Story of Miscarriage

    Posted On 05/14/2017

    First, I would like to thank my mom for allowing me to share her story. She was very open to the idea and didn’t mind answering ALL of my questions.

    Between the fact that my mom was 41 years old when she gave birth to me and the fact that my sister is 10 years older than me, I often get asked (jokingly) if I was an “accident”. I learned early on that I wasn’t an “accident”. My parents wanted a second child.

    My mom had my sister at the age of 31. She started trying for her second child at the age of 38. Statics show that women who are older have difficulties with getting pregnant naturally and are also at a higher risk of experiencing complications during pregnancy. It doesn’t mean that it’s impossible, it just may be a little harder. Needless to say, my mom understands this all too well.

    My mom was pregnant five times in three years. Yes, FIVE TIMES!  Four of the pregnancies resulted in a miscarriage. One of her miscarriages was an ectopic pregnancy. An ectopic pregnancy is when the egg is fertilized and planted outside of the uterus. As a result, she had to have surgery to have the fetus removed from her tubes. Had she not gone to the hospital in time, my mom most likely would have died.

    On her fifth attempt, my mom was pregnant with me. Most people were surprised that she was 41 years old and pregnant. They also didn’t realized that she was pregnant because she only gained eight pounds while she was pregnant with me. The only blemish during this pregnancy was that I decided that I wanted to be breach. The doctors tried to flip me over at one of her appointments, but I was stubborn (that’s one thing that hasn’t changed about me). She scheduled a C-section a few days before my due date. Funny enough the morning of her scheduled C-section, my mom started having contractions while she was getting my sister ready for school. A few hours later, I was born a HEALTHY 8 pound and 11 ounce baby.

    I have never experienced a miscarriage myself so I can’t say that I understand the emotions associated with miscarriage. However, being the baby that survived nine months in the womb that was occupied by four other babies that didn’t survive, does offer me a different perspective on life.

    From time to time, I question my existence and if I really have a purpose. This story serves as a reminder that God wanted me here on this earth for a reason. My mom endured so much to have me and it makes me realize that I can’t take my life for granted.

    The same strength and persistence that my mother showed in trying to have her second child is the same strength and persistence I aspire to use to get through hard times in my life. She didn’t let the fact that she was older or the fact that she miscarried four times discourage her. My mom’s story helps me understand why I shouldn’t allow obstacles to discourage me and why I should never give up.

    If you are reading this and you feel discouraged in some aspect of your life, don’t give up and know that you have purpose!

    Had my mom given up, I wouldn’t have been able to write this.

    -Kymmie

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    Why I Quit Teaching After Only 4 Months

    Posted On 01/14/2017

    I quit my job as an elementary school teacher after only four months. I actually quit teaching one day mid-September, but I was encouraged to call in sick and my co-workers covered for me. To be clear, I wasn’t fired or forced out, I resigned on my own. I QUIT.

    Realistic Expectations
    It doesn’t matter if you it’s your first year, 15th year, or 30th year, teaching is hard. POINT. BLANK. PERIOD. However, first-year teachers face a unique set of challenges. Having your own classroom is totally different from working in an experienced teacher’s classroom environment. I was honest with myself and I knew my first year was not going to be a walk in the park. I wasn’t expecting my classroom to look Pinterest perfect or to become teacher of the year. But I wasn’t expecting the pure foolishness that I walked into.

    Shocked and Unsupported
    I’ve never seen anything like it. I had never been in a place where children didn’t have to take responsibility for their actions and teachers were blamed for everything. I got hit with a jump rope because I told a child they had modified recess. That child was right back in my classroom the next day jumping off of tables and trying to fight other students as if nothing happened. I’d get questioned about what I DID or DIDN’T do to cause the student to behave the way they did, right in front of my kids no less. So a child could throw crayons while I have students working in small groups and I get told that it’s my fault because their work was too hard, after being told that we need to up the rigor. I had students that would get up and play games on the desktop computers during the middle of my lessons. I was told that I needed to plan more engaging lessons, but on that day I was following the lessons provided by the school district to a T and I had differentiated text for my students to read. Anytime something happened, I was told to “just document it”. I’ve dealt with broken classroom windows, students slamming doors, frequent fights, and chairs being thrown. I can’t tell it all, but I could write a Harry Potter length book about what I experienced with my students alone during that time.
    Constantly being blamed for things and being looked down on after putting my all into my classroom didn’t sit well with me. I was often told that because I was a first-year teacher, that my kids weren’t going to be learning anything. When your goal is to TEACH and no one around you confirms or supports that, it’s discouraging. There were multiple times where issues were brought up to me in front of others and it was embarrassing. I’m open to feedback, but constant criticism when you’re already down is like salt in the wound(s). A little affirmation goes a long way.
    Throughout this four-month period, I did have the support of my friends, family, and my grade level team. I wouldn’t have made it without them.

    Totally Consumed
    I’ve always gone to school, as a student, a student-teacher, or a mentor. But for the first time in my 23 years of life, I felt like I was actually going to work and that wasn’t a good feeling. I would cry every day because I was miserable and I didn’t know what to do. I cried on my way to work, during my planning period (if I had one), after school, and when I got home. Anytime someone asked me how it was going, I would break down and cry. I wanted to say something positive, however, I couldn’t articulate anything. My team told me that I was not the same person they met during professional development week. It got to a point where I ended up on anxiety medication because I couldn’t sleep. I ended up losing 17 pounds because I couldn’t eat as a result of stress. I would worry about work 24/7. Whenever I took time for myself I felt guilty because I wasn’t lesson planning or doing something for my job. It’s hard to be effective at anything when you can’t even function. I felt bad because I would look at my students that really wanted to learn and I felt like I couldn’t help them because I was struggling.

    Asking for Help
    I reached out for help because I wanted to get myself together. However, once I enlisted help from district personnel, admin was no longer only unsupportive of my growth, but they were unsupportive and actively working against me. They sent others in my class to spy on me and my classroom and wanted those individuals to write reports up on what they observed. They wanted to say that I was the problem and have some justification as to why test scores were so low. Anything to take the pressure off of them and to keep their jobs safe. I’m sure there is a huge paper trail attached to my name. There is probably more documentation on me than students that have been at that school since kindergarten, if I’m being honest.
    Y’all! I was a FIRST YEAR TEACHER, that was asking for help because I knew I needed it. I went to professional developments on my own because I wanted my students to be successful. I could have just went through the motions until May and not even tried just to get a paycheck. BUT I ASKED FOR HELP.  It turned into a “them against me thing”. Their focus was on making me look incompetent, but my focus was ALWAYS bettering myself for my KIDS. If everyone is in the business of making themselves look good by putting others down, the kids ultimately suffer. If I’m busting my butt and others are just delegating, and not actively coaching or nurturing what I am doing well, how am I supposed to help my students flourish?
    *SideNote: I didn’t go over anyone’s head when asking for help, I was simply using a resource.*

    The Beginning of the End
    The straw that broke my back was when I had my initial evaluation the day before Thanksgiving break. It was all negative. EVERY SINGLE THING. But none of it was even about my ability to teach. I didn’t have any classroom observations prior so my evaluation was general “faculty meeting” statements mixed with assumptions. I was told that since my class had the most discipline referrals and phone calls to the office, it meant I wasn’t planning engaging lessons and this in turn, promoted misbehavior. I was essentially told that I was setting my kids up for failure. To reiterate, I didn’t have a single classroom observation prior. Any possible concerns that I had were addressed and dismissed before I could even speak. I just sat there fighting back the tears, because I felt defenseless and the effort I was making wasn’t acknowledged. The little bit of hope that I had found in that situation was diminished at that moment.

    Time to Think and a Difficult Decision
    The three days after Thanksgiving break I missed school because I was at home sick. I had a lot of time to reflect. I noticed how relaxed and stress-free I was. Why was I continuing to go to a place that stressed me out, especially if I wasn’t doing anything right in the eyes of others? During my time, I prayed and I talked to God and I asked Him for guidance. I talked to my teaching association and a few other trusted people. After all of that, I decided that I wouldn’t return to my classroom in January. I was honest with everyone about my plans of not returning and submitted my letter of resignation (although it wasn’t accepted). Sure I could have just not shown up, but I didn’t want to create chaos for anybody. I wanted the transition to be as smooth as possible. I also wanted to be able to say goodbye to my students, even after I was told not to tell my kids that I wasn’t coming back. Closure was important to me.
    Quitting my job wasn’t an easy decision. I really did love my kids and I didn’t want them to think that I was giving up on them. Not only that, but I live alone and I pay 95% of my bills. I didn’t have another job lined up before I walked away. After I made my decision, I had a sense of peace come over me. I placed it all in God’s hands and I still believe that everything will work out for me.

    Life is Short
    This experience taught me that life is entirely too short to spend it doing something that doesn’t make me happy. Of course, I have to do things that I don’t like (paying bills, pumping gas, filing taxes), but I shouldn’t stay in situations that are detrimental to my mental and emotional well-being. In this case, the teaching profession wasn’t the issue, the environment in which I was “trying” to teach in was. NO ONE WAS HAPPY AT THAT SCHOOL. The teachers didn’t want to be there and the kids didn’t want to be there either. We were just expected to deal with all that was being thrown at us and take the blame for kids being two and three grade levels behind in reading. I just couldn’t buy the crap they were trying to sell me because I knew I deserved better. I wasn’t myself in that environment. I had lost my glow, my positive attitude, and my tenacity. The second I could no longer be Kymmie, I knew it was time for me to exit stage left.

    Moving Forward
    My dream of being a teacher isn’t crushed. I don’t think I’ll be returning to the classroom anytime soon, mainly because I’ll probably lose my license from breach of contract. However, I KNOW I CAN TEACH and no one will ever be able to take away the gift that GOD has given to me. But I have a feeling I won’t be teaching in a traditional sense. *inserts thinking emoji*

    -Kymmie
    A Former First Year Teacher

    Update: I’m now a certified career coach serving 8 middle schools and the owner of Glitter, Glue, and Goals. 

    Download a free copy of my Find Your Glitter Workbook.

    Find me on Clubhouse @KymmieCartledge

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