I went to class and the teacher made me write on the chalkboard after I disrupted her lesson by talking. I had to stay after class and write “I will not talk” over and over and over. After I was done, she made me erase the entire thing and do it over. It was the worst torcher.
i don’t have a chalkboard anymore I have a whiteboard. but i remember chalkboards from my days in public schools. I particularly remember the teacher who hated chalk dust and kept a 5 gallon pail filled with water to wash the board with. he would throw the sponges at you if you pissed him off.
The grating of the chalk on the chalkboard set my heart racing. There is no act on earth that causes me such stress. Why? Because I’m “ear person”–I have no visual sense at all, but sounds can irritate me or send me over the moon with happiness.
I remember having to sit at the front of the class, almost with my nose in the chalk, to see. Because I was too proud to wear my glasses. Or too vain, maybe. There is nothing worse than being a little girl and feel ugly, uncool. I would rather deal with the constant sneexing from the chalk dust.
chalkboard. Joining of two words – chalk and board. Reminds me of school. Where the teachers used chalk on the blackboard to teach. Also what we used as kids to play. Draw on the board. Visions of childhood and vivid memories. Ah, the nostalgia. Wish the same for kids of the future. How they miss out on a lot of things with all their Ipads, Iphones, computers, videogames, Wiis and all other types of technologies – kinda like animals becoming extinct.
Etching, sketching, retching up their school lunches because of the chalk and talk. Excessive. Depressive. Antiquated. Out dated. And they just keep on going. Playing teacher because that’s the way it’s always been. Some grab SMART boards and say that’s an improvement.
I lift up the white stick, and scrape it along the black, leaving traces and making it shorter. The board squeaks, bits of chalk flutter off into disuse. I only hope that by the time my finger scrapes black, I’ve left something worth spending a stick for.
I looked everywhere for that box of colored chalk. I wanted to make my class seems fun and exciting. Was it possible the answer might be colored chalk on the chalkboard. Probably not, I guess, but I am going to do it anyway.
Where will my next chalkboard be? I have not a classroom, not a place, not a desk, no working space. All packed up and ready to move. There aren’t enough metaphors to describe my feelings. Displaced didn’t seem so scary in April – in June it’s terrifying. Kids will come back in two months. How old are they? What do they know? How will I help them?
He furiously scribbled on the board. He was tired of disciplining. His throat was sore from all the shouting. His fingers curled around his walking stick as he wrote on the chalkboard. One more word and I will beat them down.
The chalkboard mocked me openly. The chalk was not amused, because she was, in fact, quite over the chalkboard and his snide ways. The other kids in class didn’t notice. But it scared me. I spit on the chalkboard and walked away. Never to return.
That ever-green chalkboard haunts me each morning. It dares me to answer its questions, to solve its equations. Yet each time it shows me a problem I struggle to find a solution.
school. it’s where you learn. can you even remember the days of kindergarten?? chalk and erasers and new friends. now we think we know it all and we’re too good for it. could we be more wrong? probably not. we’re always learning no matter what, even from the beginning of those chalkboard days. now we’re on to bigger things. we think at least. will we ever know for sure.
green and black, dusty and when nails are pressed up against it, annoying for some. where we learn, read, laugh, groan and take notes. the smell takes you back to your school days.
She went to the chalkboard, unsure of the answer to the problem and feeling the eyes of the class upon her. The chalk rested in her fingers, and she was aware of the awful screech that would awaken the class and embarrass her if she used it wrong.
i write on the board with a chalkboard and am very happy about it how about you? I love chalkboard and blackboards…..I remember my youth….thank you very much.
scretching along the skelaton white chalk. Reminding me of matilda and the horrific screatching of the teacher against the board. Though chalk borad,
i remember one time in Newquay there was a surf shop called chalkboard, which sold boards, surf boards in white plain colour, very monotonous.
chalkboard…we play on the chalkboard…blackboard relay in french class…we right…the screeching of chalk running and running and running…the screeching of finger running running running…dusty, dry, black, almost sad
A chalkboard is a type of mitereal that u can write on a chalkboard. alot of teachers use to write on so they can explain morre of what they are saying.not all teacher use a chalkboar some kides use a chalkboar to just write on. a chalkboard is a very interesting usage of a boar. when you use a chalkboard uyou have to use chalk other wise it wont come off of the board then there is no resen to use it.
reminds me of primary school. and dust – or whatever it’s called. also reminds me of the simpsons- which ive never particularly liked for some reason. also reminds me of horror movies- you kno sharp pointy nails scratching at it :/ oh god i got from primary school to horror movies!
Chalkboard? What the hell!!! It reminds me of school, they are two kinds green ones and black and then you had to write with white chalks, that’s real lame.Cause the chalks always dirtied your hands and at times it leads to people eating chalks.
My teacher asked from the meaning of the word chalkboard i was really embaraced to say i don’t know. when i said that i don’t know everyone startto laugh at me i was so annoyed but at the end i just said who cares
no longer around. Interactive Whiteboard, that’s the new game, Black and white, scratch and sound…better or worse? Ideas and images. white earth. black sky.
Chalkboards are gone now that SmartBoards are in place in schools. Now, instead of writing on chalkboards, we touch technology. Crazy how times change!
Green and black, fingers stained in white powder mixed with water from the sponge I used to clean it. Today I’m the one in the class in charge of doing it during every period. Fear of failure in front of it when the teacher calls me to answer the lesson.
the teacher always scrubbed it. the students scratched it. and it was a place for expression of both rules and art, lessons and beauty. a chalkboard is an endless palette of possibilities.
The new teacher slowly walked to the chalkboard. She was as nervous as her students were on this first day of school, but she didn’t want to show it. “Good morning, class. My name is Mrs. Witherbee. Welcome to 5th grade.”
All I can think about now is nails on a chalkboard. As a child I remember it not being that bothersome. As an adult just the thought of it makes me want to cut my nails. It’s funny how our tolerance level changes as we age. You would think we’d become more tolerant of things as we mature. This is one thing in which I can say that is not the case. I thank God for the invention of white boards, and strongly believe chalk should be used only on sidewalks.
chalkboard is the one of the most essential tool used for writing.it has a wide application in studies.i love it personally.Thanks chalkboard.children like chalkboard a lot.even teachers prefer it over other writing tools.
There was written something on the chalkboard, when I entered the classroom. Words put neatly next to each other. And there was a heavy silence above the pupils head.
she smiled as she drew her fingers across it, The scraping screching squel lit up her face.She revelled in the feeling of chalk dust under her nails . So long as she could see us grimance. That black sqaure and me never got along . It had so much potential. The curving arc of a c in a poem couldve been so pretty but my brain defaced it ,scrunched it up fliped it round . Words were a secret garden The world forgot to tell me the secret passcode. She had secrets too . The girl at the blackboard I could see the swimming beneath her dark gold eyes. Secrets that pulled at her little limbs like strings . Made her do those things to me. Or at least thats what I hoped. The thought of someone ripping legs of spiders and pinching me hard where they couldnt see just because made me shudder. Could someone really just be evil? No remorse . And if it were so should we even treat them like humans when they seem so void of hummanity?.
The power if words on the chalkboard, like words on the mind.
Erased every word, only traces lady behind.
I went to class and the teacher made me write on the chalkboard after I disrupted her lesson by talking. I had to stay after class and write “I will not talk” over and over and over. After I was done, she made me erase the entire thing and do it over. It was the worst torcher.
i don’t have a chalkboard anymore I have a whiteboard. but i remember chalkboards from my days in public schools. I particularly remember the teacher who hated chalk dust and kept a 5 gallon pail filled with water to wash the board with. he would throw the sponges at you if you pissed him off.
The grating of the chalk on the chalkboard set my heart racing. There is no act on earth that causes me such stress. Why? Because I’m “ear person”–I have no visual sense at all, but sounds can irritate me or send me over the moon with happiness.
dear school , why do we have to have a chalkboard instead of a smart board. this is stupid.
I remember having to sit at the front of the class, almost with my nose in the chalk, to see. Because I was too proud to wear my glasses. Or too vain, maybe. There is nothing worse than being a little girl and feel ugly, uncool. I would rather deal with the constant sneexing from the chalk dust.
chalkboard. Joining of two words – chalk and board. Reminds me of school. Where the teachers used chalk on the blackboard to teach. Also what we used as kids to play. Draw on the board. Visions of childhood and vivid memories. Ah, the nostalgia. Wish the same for kids of the future. How they miss out on a lot of things with all their Ipads, Iphones, computers, videogames, Wiis and all other types of technologies – kinda like animals becoming extinct.
Etching, sketching, retching up their school lunches because of the chalk and talk. Excessive. Depressive. Antiquated. Out dated. And they just keep on going. Playing teacher because that’s the way it’s always been. Some grab SMART boards and say that’s an improvement.
I lift up the white stick, and scrape it along the black, leaving traces and making it shorter. The board squeaks, bits of chalk flutter off into disuse. I only hope that by the time my finger scrapes black, I’ve left something worth spending a stick for.
I looked everywhere for that box of colored chalk. I wanted to make my class seems fun and exciting. Was it possible the answer might be colored chalk on the chalkboard. Probably not, I guess, but I am going to do it anyway.
Where will my next chalkboard be? I have not a classroom, not a place, not a desk, no working space. All packed up and ready to move. There aren’t enough metaphors to describe my feelings. Displaced didn’t seem so scary in April – in June it’s terrifying. Kids will come back in two months. How old are they? What do they know? How will I help them?
screeching .comes in all colors .hurts .your ears .EEEEEEVVVVVIIIIIILLLLLL very EEEEVVVVIIIILLLL
screeching .comes in all colors .hurts your ears .EEEEEEEVVVVVVVVIIIIIILLLLL
He furiously scribbled on the board. He was tired of disciplining. His throat was sore from all the shouting. His fingers curled around his walking stick as he wrote on the chalkboard. One more word and I will beat them down.
The chalkboard mocked me openly. The chalk was not amused, because she was, in fact, quite over the chalkboard and his snide ways. The other kids in class didn’t notice. But it scared me. I spit on the chalkboard and walked away. Never to return.
That ever-green chalkboard haunts me each morning. It dares me to answer its questions, to solve its equations. Yet each time it shows me a problem I struggle to find a solution.
I remember blackboards.
green and pink and white
chalk. a missing duster.
now we have keyboards.
clean fingers, whiteboards.
mild disinfectant.
school. it’s where you learn. can you even remember the days of kindergarten?? chalk and erasers and new friends. now we think we know it all and we’re too good for it. could we be more wrong? probably not. we’re always learning no matter what, even from the beginning of those chalkboard days. now we’re on to bigger things. we think at least. will we ever know for sure.
green and black, dusty and when nails are pressed up against it, annoying for some. where we learn, read, laugh, groan and take notes. the smell takes you back to your school days.
She went to the chalkboard, unsure of the answer to the problem and feeling the eyes of the class upon her. The chalk rested in her fingers, and she was aware of the awful screech that would awaken the class and embarrass her if she used it wrong.
chalk on the board, white and hard against the black. Smooth and bright.
i write on the board with a chalkboard and am very happy about it how about you? I love chalkboard and blackboards…..I remember my youth….thank you very much.
scretching along the skelaton white chalk. Reminding me of matilda and the horrific screatching of the teacher against the board. Though chalk borad,
i remember one time in Newquay there was a surf shop called chalkboard, which sold boards, surf boards in white plain colour, very monotonous.
chalkboard…we play on the chalkboard…blackboard relay in french class…we right…the screeching of chalk running and running and running…the screeching of finger running running running…dusty, dry, black, almost sad
A chalkboard is a type of mitereal that u can write on a chalkboard. alot of teachers use to write on so they can explain morre of what they are saying.not all teacher use a chalkboar some kides use a chalkboar to just write on. a chalkboard is a very interesting usage of a boar. when you use a chalkboard uyou have to use chalk other wise it wont come off of the board then there is no resen to use it.
reminds me of primary school. and dust – or whatever it’s called. also reminds me of the simpsons- which ive never particularly liked for some reason. also reminds me of horror movies- you kno sharp pointy nails scratching at it :/ oh god i got from primary school to horror movies!
white
chalk
black
dusty
markers
classroom
teacher
i used it at school you always get your hands dirt with that i prefer other kinds of boards
to me it is related to maths and latin
Chalkboard? What the hell!!! It reminds me of school, they are two kinds green ones and black and then you had to write with white chalks, that’s real lame.Cause the chalks always dirtied your hands and at times it leads to people eating chalks.
My teacher asked from the meaning of the word chalkboard i was really embaraced to say i don’t know. when i said that i don’t know everyone startto laugh at me i was so annoyed but at the end i just said who cares
a green board, duh where you can write with chalk, used in schools, old schools usually
no longer around. Interactive Whiteboard, that’s the new game, Black and white, scratch and sound…better or worse? Ideas and images. white earth. black sky.
Chalkboards are gone now that SmartBoards are in place in schools. Now, instead of writing on chalkboards, we touch technology. Crazy how times change!
Green and black, fingers stained in white powder mixed with water from the sponge I used to clean it. Today I’m the one in the class in charge of doing it during every period. Fear of failure in front of it when the teacher calls me to answer the lesson.
the teacher always scrubbed it. the students scratched it. and it was a place for expression of both rules and art, lessons and beauty. a chalkboard is an endless palette of possibilities.
The new teacher slowly walked to the chalkboard. She was as nervous as her students were on this first day of school, but she didn’t want to show it. “Good morning, class. My name is Mrs. Witherbee. Welcome to 5th grade.”
All I can think about now is nails on a chalkboard. As a child I remember it not being that bothersome. As an adult just the thought of it makes me want to cut my nails. It’s funny how our tolerance level changes as we age. You would think we’d become more tolerant of things as we mature. This is one thing in which I can say that is not the case. I thank God for the invention of white boards, and strongly believe chalk should be used only on sidewalks.
chalkboard is the one of the most essential tool used for writing.it has a wide application in studies.i love it personally.Thanks chalkboard.children like chalkboard a lot.even teachers prefer it over other writing tools.
There was written something on the chalkboard, when I entered the classroom. Words put neatly next to each other. And there was a heavy silence above the pupils head.
she smiled as she drew her fingers across it, The scraping screching squel lit up her face.She revelled in the feeling of chalk dust under her nails . So long as she could see us grimance. That black sqaure and me never got along . It had so much potential. The curving arc of a c in a poem couldve been so pretty but my brain defaced it ,scrunched it up fliped it round . Words were a secret garden The world forgot to tell me the secret passcode. She had secrets too . The girl at the blackboard I could see the swimming beneath her dark gold eyes. Secrets that pulled at her little limbs like strings . Made her do those things to me. Or at least thats what I hoped. The thought of someone ripping legs of spiders and pinching me hard where they couldnt see just because made me shudder. Could someone really just be evil? No remorse . And if it were so should we even treat them like humans when they seem so void of hummanity?.