My third year of working with eighth-grade remedial students, the state decided to raise the stakes. They started using achievement tests for promotion to high school. If my students didn't pass the test, they didn't go to high school.

I had been given big notebooks full of test prep materials, and I was told to follow the scripts that were inside them. I talked to my students about the test, and as any 8th grader would, they said, "This isn't fair! Why can’t we just let next year's group worry about it? Can you write to the governor and get this to change?

I said, “We can't do any of that. We're going to have to deal with this the way it is. This is what I’m supposed to do.” I dropped the notebooks on my desk, and they landed with a thud. It got very quiet.

I said, “I’m probably not going to do every page, but I’m going to do my best to prepare you for that test. Now here's what I need you to do. I need you to show up. And when you come to class, I need you to be here. I need you to pay attention and give me your best effort.  And I need you to quit saying can't –that you can't read, can't learn, can't do this or that. Because I believe that you can and that's what we're going to do this year.”

My vision for the year was based on high expectations, support, and guidance for each and every student. Throughout the year, I always kept in mind to push my students to higher levels of thinking. We focused intensely on vocabulary, reading, and writing. Instead of copying definitions for new vocabulary words, we created visuals and played games. We read, we read, and we read—not only from the textbook, but from real-life materials like the driver’s manual. We wrote about everything, read our own writing, and revised.

With all that, we were too busy to follow all the scripts in the binders word for word. We did practice tests so that the students would be familiar with the test format, but we did not do every page of the test prep.

In May, the students took the test.

After the test results came in, I got a call from the principal’s office. When I got to Mr. Wilson's office, he asked me, “Would you like to know how your students did, Ms. Blackburn?”

Assuming the worst, I jumped in before he had a chance to go on. I said, “Mr. Wilson, three years ago when you asked me to teach remedial students, I was so appreciative. I still love it. You know that they are my favorite students to teach.”

He said, “Yes, I know that but—”

Before he could continue, I said, “And have you noticed that my discipline referrals are lower than everyone else's on our grade level? Because I had heard that last year, my students were usually the ones in the office—and did you know my students took third place in the state trivia contest?”

He said, “Yes, yes, I know, but about the test results, Ms. Blackburn…”

I interrupted him again. “Mr. Wilson, I know you spent a lot of money on those notebooks, but I did not do all of them.” I explained all the other rigorous activities I had done with my students that year. Then I took a deep breath and waited.

He looked at me and said, “Ms. Blackburn, I wanted to let you know that out of your 44 students only five are going to have to re-take the test. Your students far exceeded expectations and outperformed the other classes. You did an excellent job preparing them for the test. Thank you and congratulations to you and your students, Ms. Blackburn.”

I learned an important lesson that year. I learned that in teaching, I always needed to do what was best for my students. It’s true that they needed to be prepared for the test. But they also needed someone to have a vision of their success and follow through with purposeful instruction, motivation, and support. I had a vision of their success, and my students proved me right.