Tag Archives: karla smedley

Friendship: Thank You for Being a Friend – By Karla

Posted on by

Summer Exchange Program

During the summers of my teenage years, I spent a week at Donna’s house, and she spent a week at mine. We commonly refer to these moments as our summer exchange program. Oh, the stories we can tell of those adventures, and the friendship that began.

One of our favorite things was the moments when we gained some independence. Donna’s mom Nikki decided it was okay for us to go by ourselves to Shannon Mall near their home in Fayetteville, Georgia. Dennis, her brother, would drop us off, and our freedom began! At least we thought; years later we found out he spied on our friendship like big brothers do.  

People Watching

With little money, we rarely bought anything but an ice cream. Those were some fun times sitting on the benches analyzing people’s hairstyles, outfits, or actions. I would like to say we were not being judgmental, but by definition, we probably were.

Donna usually used her “soft voice” laugh ,while I have a rambunctious chuckle. No wonder I usually got called down more often. At some point, we would decided covering our mouths with a piece of paper or napkin if possible would be a secret way of talking about others. If we did not have either of those items, we began to whisper talk out of the side of our mouths, which became a trademark for us. Yep, we still do it sometimes. Honestly though, maybe it was not as judgmental as it sounds. I believe we were two young, innocent girls trying to figure out the world around us; honestly, we were a little shocked at times!

As I licked my chocolate cake cone and Donna her butter-pecan sugar cone, one of us would mouth, “Look, coming from the left. Hair. Slowly turn your head.” The other would try to nonchalantly swirl her head in that direction. Then we would both try to keep ourselves from bursting out in laughter. It was almost like a game to see who could find the most outlandish situation. We sat there analyzing mohawks, puffy sleeves, big hair teased into a mountain, Madonna look-a-likes, shorts, leg warmers, or turquoise triangle earrings. Then our game would progress to new heights when we would share a crazy comparison. Again with the lips glued on one side and spewing in whispers on the other, “Look, here come Mr. Jefferson struttin’ by us. I think he just stole Mr. T’s gold chains!”

Figuring It Out, Together

Donna and I often still find ourselves trying to critique others, but somewhere over the years, our analyzing has moved more from fashion to the behaviors of others. Life is filled with moments that leaves a person pondering. So, now we mostly help each other sort out the motives of others, whose behavior is not acceptable or who have done hurtful things.

We have all had strangers, coworkers, and even family members, who do things that did not seem to make any sense. We are left, trying to process the situation. Donna and I call each other and discuss it, shake our heads, laugh about it, and sort it out as to why in the world the person would have chosen the words or actions they did. Sometimes these situations have been a brief moment in time. However, other incidents have taken weeks, months, or even years to walk through. For decades, we have relied on the other to navigate life.

We all Need Someone

Everyone needs a Donna friendship in their life. 

  • A Christian friend who will listen to you say anything, knowing sometimes you just need to get it off your chest or out of your mind
  • That true confidant, who will interrupt you when needed and gently guide you back on course
  • The buddy, who helps me see the other side of the coin, even when you don’t want to 
  • A honest companion, who will teasingly call you a “pompous-butt princess” when you are acting too uppity

Donna, thanks for listening to my woes over the year, and thanks for helping me figure out how to handle many, many situations over the years. In fact, thanks for taking me to Waffle House to eat raisin toast for the first time. And thanks for bringing me back to my youth, talking out of the corners of our mouths about the man in the purple jacket. Thank you for being a friend!

Share and Enjoy !

Shares

9/11: That September Day – By Karla

Posted on by

Where were you when the world stopped turning that September day?

-Alan JAckson Song

Remembrance of an Answer

I love the question posed by Alan Jackson in his song. That September day I was in my classroom teaching a group of innocent children. During my planning, a co-worker came in and turned on the television. I whirled around from typing an email and froze as I saw the continuous recounts aired. The magnitude of the event was immediately felt.

Fear Brought Unity

At the time, I was married; he was a soldier in the Army Reserves. I instantly felt the sting of what this moment meant. I had lived through Desert Storm as an army wife while he was on active duty. For many months while we lived in Germany, his bags remained packed, and I did not know if he would return home when he left for work every morning. But this time was different. We had two girls, one in kindergarten and one in fourth grade.

In the week or two that followed the attacks, I sensed the fears as did everyone, and the urge for closeness with those we loved most. Like in the lyrics of Jackson’s song, I think many Americans did dust off their Bibles for a time and come together in churches. I vividly remember sermons reminding us that God is in control, and I recall our congregation joining together in prayer while forming a band of unity as we held tightly to each other.

Comings and Goings

In the years that followed, my girls and I said hello and goodbye to their dad often. Sometimes, it was for short period, only a week to a month, but others it was for a year or more. There were times when I had to shield them from noticing angry protesters. They exhibited their right to express themselves, while it cut me deeply to see their lack of support for our family’s sacrifice. But most often, we noticed the honor that others gave to soldiers and their loved ones.

There is a special twinkle in the eyes of children waving a flag as they watch their dads, moms, aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, and cousins, return home from serving overseas. I have stood in a crowd with all my family together and cried at the joy of another family reuniting.

Responsibility to Remember

I think we have a responsibility to remember 9-11. This weekend I was going through old home movies with the girls. Through the Easter egg hunts, school chorus shows, and Christmas mornings, we found two video clips of where I had taken questions from my students to my nana and my girls’ great-grandpa.

First-Hand Sources

Nana grew up in North Georgia, while Grandpa Harold lived his life in Michigan, New Mexico, and California. Both had such deep sadness when asked about Pearl Harbor and WWII. My students learned more from those two interviews than they from any textbook. One student wanted me to ask them both if they would rather live in today’s world or years ago. Their answers were the same, in fact almost word for word. “Well, you have more conveniences today, but it was better back then. There was less violence, and you spend more time with your family.”

Family Importance

I pondered that thought for a while. If I could choose what stage of life I would like to remain, I think it would be anytime I was surrounded by my family. Though we can’t stay home indefinitely and cling to our family like the song discusses, we can strive toward a simple life to spend more time with our family. For these are the people who love us most and have our true best interest at heart.

My life has changed so much since 9/11 as I have weathered many storms. I wish that we, as a nation, strived to maintain our need for a tighter togetherness. Sadly, I believe we laid our Bibles back on the shelf to collect dust all too quickly.

Peace from God

This morning my quiet time began with Psalm 62:1-2. In all the changes that have occurred since the morning of 9/11, I can say these verses have held true for me. I wish that America could keep these truths, which we so dearly clung to that September day, and act upon them in our daily lives.

Truly my soul finds rest in God;

my salvation comes from Him.

Truly He is my rock and my salvation;

He is my fortress, I will never be shaken.

Share and Enjoy !

Shares

Teachers: I’m Just About Fed Up! -By Karla

Posted on by

 Stacking Up

August 2, 2018 began my 27th year in teaching. Most jobs in our world today pile on more and more work for about the same pay. Being a teacher is no different. Task after task, stacks of paperwork keep heaping up. I will be one of the first to admit, many tasks are needed, but there is a limit to what teachers can take. I’m just about fed up!

I did some reading this week. (Research gathered from the following: factretriever.com, herelearningclicks.com, dosomethingright.org, and teacherhub.com),

Did you know that the average teacher works a 53 hour week! The daily in-school breakdown is interesting:

  •    5 hours of instruction
  •    36 minutes of supervision and discipline
  •    45 minutes planning, preparing, or collaborating
  •    36 minutes of grading, documenting, or analyzing student work
  •    15 minutes of communication with parents,
  •    23 minutes for lunch

This may be hard to believe if you do not have a close relationship with a teacher, but we work about 400 hours of overtime a year! Adding to that stat is the fact that 78% of us only get five to seven hours of sleep at night. For me, as close to seven as possible—I get a little grouchy without it! I need eight or nine!

Some say, “Well, they get all those holidays and the summer.” I’m going fess up for teachers all across America. First, we sure don’t get the lengthy summer that we used to get as kids! When you look at all the extra time we put in, you will realize we work the hours!

Pay Up

Let’s talk money. I read that the average teacher salary has only increased 1% in the last 20 year factoring inflation. Twenty to thirty percent of teachers have second jobs! But when asked about the most difficult things about being a teacher, our salaries were not in the top ten issues. Instead, we often put up money for our students’ field trips, lunches, coats, or Christmas presents.

In fact, surveys revel the average teacher spends around $500 on her classroom or kids out of her own pocket.

More and More Time Is Used Up

Times have changed so much in these 26 years. I hear the words, “I was beat up,” more and more. Fewer and fewer hands go up in curiosity. Sadly, I hear less and less of how the powers that be back us up. More of my time is spent cheering up kids and teachers, who both need an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on, and a hand to pat them on the back. I spent countless hours during the year trying to come up with meaningful activities to build them up. I follow up with kids more often today than in the past because they need more people to show they care. Perhaps, this is because we are quickly moving away from a “what’s up” society to the isolated earbud land.  

As I have gotten older, it is getting harder and harder for me to wake up and get up for school. Recently, I was written up for the situation. Honestly, I own up for my imperfections. However, I am here to say, their requirements for being an effective teacher can take the wind out of you sometimes. Eighty-eight percent of people say a teacher had a “significant, positive impact” on their life. It has been reported that teaching is the second most important occupation contributing to our society’s well-being. The average teachers impacts the lives of about 3,000 students in their career! It is any wonder we are tired?

Giving Up

Maybe you’re thinking I’m too old and too tired to do my job anymore. Maybe you think, there are plenty of young teachers out there ready to take over. However,

  • Thirty-three percent of teachers quit the profession, within the first three years.
  • Forty-six percent had quit by their fifth year! They are giving up too quickly.
  • Only fourteen percent of the outflow in teaching is a result of retirement.

Sadly, I don’t hear many teachers or society in general public encouraging them to stay.

Less Back Up

Something has got to change! In the good-old days, most parents backed up their child’s teacher. (Social media is definitely not the place to vent about teachers. When a parent has concerns, they should talk to the teacher to learn the rest of the story that a child sometimes forgets to share at home.)  Help that trend begin again. We need your prayers and your words of encouragement. Yes, we need accountability, but we need respect as well. We need the higher powers to truly acknowledge the job we already do, encourage us, and offer assistance. (Yes, I am going to say it…and not pressure us with the threat of getting test scores up!)   

Field Day 2022

Please don’t think of me as unhappy in my profession. I am not. I love my kids, over 2,500 of them! Of all the ups I have mentioned, the most important one is this, Teaching and inspiring my school kids fill up my soul!

Share and Enjoy !

Shares

Pay Attention: Just One, One, One – By Karla

Posted on by

Are We Paying Attention?

There is a reported story in which President Franklin Delano Roosevelt experienced the feeling that no one was paying attention to him. Receiving guest as presidents often do, he grew tired of the mundane routine and politely began repeating the phrase, “I murdered my grandmother this morning.” No guest responded to his statement in shock.  Rather, they responded with comments like “Keep up the good work, Sir” or “God bless you, Mr. President.”

We can all get so caught up in our own lives that we don’t even notice the world around us, but there are people everywhere who are hurting. Storms occur in everyone’s lives. Though the turmoil takes different shapes and forms no one is immune. Sometimes, I feel overwhelmed with the needs of others. Then I remember Mother Teresa’s words, “I never look at the masses as my responsibility.  I look at the individual. I can love only one person at a time. I can feed only one person at a time. Just one, one, one.”

Christian’s Lending a Helping Hand

Recently, a friend shared the sermon notes from his church in Rome, Georgia. The minister asked, “How can we know when someone is hurting or sick unless we are intimately connected with each other?” Coming from generations of caring Christians, I am very blessed and have many family members who are deeply connected with me. In addition, I have so many dear friends who have given me countless hours of love. But many do not have that background of solid Christian structure? I believe it is my responsibility as a Christian to keep intimate connections with others and make the ties with those who do not have a strong Christian family to help.

Pray and Follow Through

James 5: 13-16 discusses the power of prayer when a friend is hurting, sick, or sinned. Some share their woes through media. It is not a quick stroll through Facebook clicking a “like button” or typing the words “praying” that get the job done. Yes! I do this too, but is that all I do? Sadly, sometimes. I should take action; I should be texting a private message, sending a card, or dialing the number. Some hurt quietly. 

If you are the one who hurts, is sick, and has sinned, share within your circle of friends. If not, Satan may prey on you during the darkest or loneliest moments. It is during these storms that our Christian sister and brotherhood grows stronger.

The shared sermon from my friend went on to state some qualities of an unhealthy church: judgement on others, slow disconnects, saying things we don’t mean, or making praying promises that we don’t keep. I think it’s no wonder churches are dying; many times, we do not take care of each other.

Looking Outside Our Circle

While keeping our existing, intimate relationships, we should find one or two who need our commitment to pray for them. Spend some time asking God who needs you. Send a text or write a card. Ask that person how you can pray for them. Then do it!

 Mother Teresa also said, “Nothing makes you happier than when you really reach out in mercy to someone who is badly hurt.”  

My mom’s friend Mrs. Arp once shared a story with me that has helped me on occasion. When her husband had Alzheimer’s, she had been feeling down because he was getting worse daily. She said one morning she was moping around, thinking how bad things were and thought, “Kathryn’s {my mom} cancer is getting worse. I am going out today and buy her a new house coat.” She shared that the joy on Mom’s face when she gave it to her was equal to the blessing she received from giving it.

Care does not have to cost money, but its return is tenfold. Give of yourself to someone each and every day. “Just one, one, one.”

Share and Enjoy !

Shares

July 4th 1976: The Bicentennial -By Karla

Posted on by

The Twin Cities

Copperhill, Tennessee and McCaysville, Georgia weren’t really cities at all, but special little towns where I grew up. One of the coolest things is the fact that a person can stand on a bridge in Georgia and look at a bridge in Tennessee, which is only about 50 yards apart. I lived about five miles from McCaysville while my daddy’s pharmacy, Tallent Drugs, was over the Tennessee state line, by the other bridge. Mom was always trying to explain why she had a Georgia driver’s license, but had a Tennessee Post Office address. Both towns were thriving at that time due to the Tennessee Copper Company. The Bicentennial Fourth of July was the best!

Bicentennial Celebration

Max Dillard (Daddy) and Mr. Lee Ross Buttram

The festivities lasted all week long! As a nine-year-old kid, I am sure I did not notice much of the planning the town or mom put into the week, except for my dress. My great Aunt Dot had a sewing shop on the Tennessee side.

As the weeks led up to that July in 1976, Mom and Aunt Dot planned our family’s costumes. Julie and I had colonial, pale blue dresses complete with bonnets while Lynn and Gail wore fancy dresses that matched. Mom’s was more common with a black bonnet. Daddy grew a full beard, the only time in his life that I know about. He wore a white shirt with red suspenders, a black derby hat, and strolled around the drugstore with a corn cob pipe in his mouth.

Bicentennial Jail

Really, everyone in town wore a costume!  If you walked into Buttram’s Hardware, (owned by our neighbors’ family; More Than a Teacher Blog), McCaysville Drugs (owned my childhood best friend’s dad), or any of the businesses on the few blocks that consisted of the twin cities, you would have seen everyone dressed up. In fact, if you weren’t wearing a costume, you could be arrested and put into the wooden makeshift jail in the middle of town! A standard bail was set for anyone “arrested”. I’m guessing the money collected was used to finance the local fireworks. I bet Mom was either having the time of her life strolling the four of us around town, or we were driving her crazy because she was afraid we would rip our skirt tails when we could get excited and start to run.

During the week of the fourth, I called the bank to report the temperature to mom.

Come as you are,
bank from your car
at Ducktown Banking Company.  
The time is….
The temperature is…

(Thinking back, I believe drive-through banking must have been new in our area. It is funny to me that I can remember this jingle, but cannot find my car keys or phone on a daily basis.)

As I put the receiver back on the rotary beige base, it rang. Someone called to share Daddy had been arrested. I ran for Mom to pick up the kitchen phone, which hung on the wall. I was not happy, and Mom must have sensed my uneasiness. She had to remind me, “The arrest is all in fun, Karla. Your dad must have taken his hat off.  But go get Julie, and get y’all’s shoes on. We have to go bail him out,” she laughed.

Bicentennial Parade

Most years before, Julie and I had watched the parade from the vacant rooms above the M & J grocery store. But this year, the creators of the parade added a “walk with your dog” section.

As the fourth neared, I continued to beg Mom to let me march in the parade with my dachshund Barney. I must have put up a good fight or wore her down, because against her better judgement, I was among the other parade members, standing near Hyde’s Chrysler Plymouth awaiting our signal to begin.

Bicentennial Regret

Being that it was the Bicentennial, there were cannons in the parade also. My poor dog Barney. He hadn’t volunteered to be in the parade. His whole little body shook in terror as the cannons were booming. I stood in total regret. I do believe it was the first of several times I can vividly remember wishing I had listened to Mom! To my recollection it was the only time I ever said the prayer, “God, if you will just let me get through this, I promise….“

After what seemed to take forever, we got in parade formation and moved forward. Barney’s little legs couldn’t keep up, so I picked him up in front of The New Yorker restaurant, which by the way had the best grilled cheese and homemade chocolate milkshakes!

As we passed Tallent Drugstore, I saw Mom standing with Julie. Man, I tried as hard as I could to look like I was having fun! But, I don’t think I fooled her. Barney was still shaking when we passed Maloof’s. He walked on his leash for a few minutes until another boom was set off, and I picked him up rounding the corner near the A&P and Arp’s restaurant, carrying him the rest of the way. I do not remember any pleasurable moment except the completion when I happily found Mom to take Barney home!

Bicentennial Fireworks

Later that night, my family gathered with friends by the river, sitting in those scratchy, woven-strapped lawn chairs. We ate snacks (probably from Hickory Farms), laughed, and visited. The week was winding down, but not the memories that I hold so dear in my heart.

Small town Fourth of July’s are the best! There’s not many people who can say, “I watched the fireworks with my family and friends as they were shot off Tater Hill!”

Enjoy a video of the history of Copperhill!

(I do not own the rights to this video. Found on YouTube: Thomas King)

Share and Enjoy !

Shares