one day i was sitting in class staring at the chalkboard. i was bored. it was nice outside. i saw a man walk by and he was holing a dog under his right arm. the dog looked happy. i was not happy. i wanted to be that dog. i wanted a glass of iced tea.
The teacher stood at the chalkboard glaring at her students. “Well?!” she asked, “None of you did this?!”
The children looked at each other in fear, that one would speak out against another; the silent revolution never sounded. With that teacher punished all the children severely. See the children thought she was looking for individuals, while the teacher knew it was their society.
advice or lessons and this is what you write them on. Used with older fashion sort of things, similar to a white board. Teachers commonly love and hate these, erasers clapped together as punishment in old movies. Its a classic, and they are always able to be written on with chalk and a great mind.
I remember back in the day when Mr. Koob’s classroom had a chalkboard. We would always end up throwing the chalk at each other, and it was fun. I remember there was a kid who always ended up eating the chalk. No one paid attention to the lesson, because everyone would be trying to get him to eat more of the chalk.
The words you write on the chalkboard that you call your heart, they’re so un-permanent, so easy to erase, and you like to show me how easy. I’ll just keep dusting your erasers so you can carry on the way you do, but one day I won’t be here to worry about your erased words.
Black and boring with a hard ass surface. Gave me allergies back in the days when I was a kid and didnt have my hours of sleep because of the damned powdery chalk. It really irritated my nasal passage or whatever it was that got irritated. My eyes were constantly bloodshot in school and my teachers used to send me home cause I was constantly ill. Stinky piece of crap it ruined my school life and my friends thought I had some disease. Damn I thank God for the new electronic boards that the education department now provides us with. When I first came I really checked the back of them to see how they worked. How fascinating!
Personally, I do not enjoy the sound that a chalkboard makes when it is scratched. Considered archaic by many school districts, chalkboards have been replaced by whiteboards, a technologically advanced writing surface. Compared to whiteboards, chalkboards are often more difficult to clean and require a great deal of cleaning liquid to remove the spots left by chalky film, whereas whiteboards are more easily cleaned and do not leave a chalky residue.
All dark and green lying in front of the classroom wall. I am always so tempted to draw on it, to squiggle and declare my random words. But it is not allowed, I stay in my sits staring at it..
writing along the black surface words sprout from my hands,poetic. my scrawl is bubbly and curly in essence. when i’m done i realize my words make no sense.
Footsteps echo on bare boards, silvered with age and dry. No children crowd the halls, no chalk marks on the chalkboard. This old schoolhouse sits empty now, the students long gone on to live fruitful lives and the teachers to retirement and other such adventures.
chalkboards are pretty cool they show people other how to do many things. there are different colors of chalk to spice up writing. Chalkboards for some bring back memories of school. Many humans relate objects to past experiences and memories, scent is one of the better ones but chalkboards are okay too.
Ah – chalkboards seem to be only used for retro affect now (except by my dad – who uses a small board on his kitchen wall to write his reminder list with white chalk!). Makes me think of the third year at junior school copying off the board and realising how short sighted I was.
The chalk shrieked against the black chalkboard, snapping Lauren’s thoughts back to class. She never was one for paying attention but if there’s one things she hated it was the sound of scratching chalk.
Why is a black board? Why is a board black? So you can write on it in white chalk! It’s a word-reversal riddle. You have to cheat to win. Perhaps the only winning move is not to play at all, but that way you’ll be a prisoner forever.
Nails on a chalkboard one-two-three.
Chalk is made of bones.
The dark green matte board was covered with the remains of white chalk, places where worlds were discovered, kingdoms created and destroyed, wars were started and won — and lost. And never once had the old chalkboard failed its owner, who had been teaching in that same classroom, using that same chalkboard for nearly thirty years.
“Obsolete,” they had told him. They would replace it with a touch screen, with technology pretty, shiny, any new.
He ran his finger over the surface of the chalkboard, white powder sticking to his fingers. Times were changing, and so…
My mom is buying frames to make into mini chalkboards. I want one, but I don’t know how I’ll get it back across the country to my school dorm. What a dilemma.
My hands covered in white as I walk down the hallway. I step outside to clap the erasers. Then back inside I go. The black board is my blank canvas to express who I am. I need to permission or criticism to be who I want to be. Thank you chalkboard, you are my savior.
the teacher wrote on the chalkboard our math problem. it was nearly impossible all but 1 got it wrong. i was the one that got it right. :) the 1st time ever, my life is complete. hahh
the chalk creeks across the board, dulling as the porcelain hand drags it along. a pioneer to the untouched landscape, leaving in its wake words that will teach a class new and unimaginable things… if only chalk were really that grand
As Jared slipped into the classroom, he spotted a desk that was empty. Unfortunately, it was behind Lacey. He sighed, causing several people to look up at him, some with irritated glares. He smiled sheepishly, slipping into the desk and taking out his notebook. He looked up at the chalkboard, which read, “Exam today. No talking!” He slumped in his desk. He was doomed.
I’ve never really used a chalkboard. In this day and age, the closest thing I’ve ever come to a chalkboard was when I was visiting an old schoolhouse for a class field trip. It makes me realize how ignorant I am to the evolution of our society and technology.
She dragged her fingers across the chalkboard, a metallic screeching sound that made my insides curl and my features to twist into an expression of pain, much like everyone else’s in the room. This was her favourite way to get our attention. I’d always thought a simple ‘hello’ would suffice, but I guess each to their own.
The chalkboard is where I wrote my secrets. I couldn’t share them with anyone, so I wrote it down to get it all out. Hearing footsteps would send me flying to the eraser, haphazardly getting rid of the evidence, of my innermost secrets.
No one uses chalkboards anymore.
Only Smartboards…which never work.
When I was in 6th grade, I wrote my friend’s middle name (Emily) on the chalkboard and I don’t think she ever forgave me because she hates it so much.
I hate the powder that comes off the chalkboard and sticks to your clothes when you erase.
chalkboards remind me when life was supposedly nice
ya know
the days your mom used to tell you about
when ice cream men actually gave you ice cream cones
and you would get punished for doing things like getting high
or gettin Fs
before everything was clean and that was okay
I remember the mini chalkboard I had when I was a kid. I always drew on that because I could never find any paper or pencils. I hated to erase my drawings, but I had to if I wanted to draw something else.
the teacher wrote Communism on the chalkboard, most of the kids looked disgusted, she laughed. “they have manipulated you into thinking that,” she said. Everyone seemed interested.
the teacher restricted the use of her chalkboard to only the most ‘brilliant’ of her students. i was not one of them. when the chance came for me to step up and do the problem on the board i hesitated.
The chalk piece snapped under the strength of Alexa’s strong fingers…her sentence was unfinished, written only in scrawly letters – a half disturbing thought.
the thing in a class room. the thing teachers wirte on to share information. an invention replaced by white boards in schools. the thing in chalkworld. t
Lying in the comfortable cacoon of the room, Jensen dreamt he was standing in a classroom at the chalkboard, explaining to a roomful of students the simple physics of destruction wrought by dozens of nuclear weapons going on in your neighborhood at the same time. One student raised his hand and asked, “but who would want to do such a stupid thing, anyway?”
i like chalkboards. i do not like the sound that people’s fingernails make when they scratch chalkboards. why do people do that? teachers use chalkboards for teaching. teachers teach (usually). sometimes teachers do not teach because they are absent. i went to school yesterday and saw some chalkboards.
Ein Schalk, wer Böses dabei denkt. Es sah alles ganz harmlos aus. Der Milchshake mit Pfefferminzblättern auf der Theke. Kein Alkohol. Eine Nichtraucherbar. Mitten im Zentrum am helllichten Tag. Keine heruntergekommene Kaschemme am Stadtrand im Dunkeln mit ebensolchen Gestalten, wo man unwillkürlich an Drogendealerei denkt.
the chalk board wasn’t a chalkboard. It was a portal. Knowledge was transfered from a seemingly unreal place, to the chalkboard. It was also a path way, bringing that knowledge to us. That chalkboard seemed magic.
I remember the show Chalk Zone about a little guy named Rudy who found magic chalk. When he would draw a circle on the chalkboard, he could go into the “chalk zone” where all of the erased chalk pictures would go. The best part was the theme song. “Who’s got the chalk the cha-cha-cha-chalk zone” Yeah…. lovin’ that shit!!
I couldn’t help but notice the boy standing by the chalkboard. I got goosebumps the longer I stared, and I realized suddenly that he was staring back. I wanted to go up to him, to ask him where he had been, but all I could do was stare. I remembered clearly that one stormy night that his hand had been intertwined with mine, and how we had sat on the porch and watched the storm. It had faded away fast as he left, and I began to miss it.
one day i was sitting in class staring at the chalkboard. i was bored. it was nice outside. i saw a man walk by and he was holing a dog under his right arm. the dog looked happy. i was not happy. i wanted to be that dog. i wanted a glass of iced tea.
The teacher stood at the chalkboard glaring at her students. “Well?!” she asked, “None of you did this?!”
The children looked at each other in fear, that one would speak out against another; the silent revolution never sounded. With that teacher punished all the children severely. See the children thought she was looking for individuals, while the teacher knew it was their society.
advice or lessons and this is what you write them on. Used with older fashion sort of things, similar to a white board. Teachers commonly love and hate these, erasers clapped together as punishment in old movies. Its a classic, and they are always able to be written on with chalk and a great mind.
I remember back in the day when Mr. Koob’s classroom had a chalkboard. We would always end up throwing the chalk at each other, and it was fun. I remember there was a kid who always ended up eating the chalk. No one paid attention to the lesson, because everyone would be trying to get him to eat more of the chalk.
The words you write on the chalkboard that you call your heart, they’re so un-permanent, so easy to erase, and you like to show me how easy. I’ll just keep dusting your erasers so you can carry on the way you do, but one day I won’t be here to worry about your erased words.
Black and boring with a hard ass surface. Gave me allergies back in the days when I was a kid and didnt have my hours of sleep because of the damned powdery chalk. It really irritated my nasal passage or whatever it was that got irritated. My eyes were constantly bloodshot in school and my teachers used to send me home cause I was constantly ill. Stinky piece of crap it ruined my school life and my friends thought I had some disease. Damn I thank God for the new electronic boards that the education department now provides us with. When I first came I really checked the back of them to see how they worked. How fascinating!
The old headmistress, though perhaps sexy in her day and age, reminded Henry now of a pathetic Sloth creature.
Personally, I do not enjoy the sound that a chalkboard makes when it is scratched. Considered archaic by many school districts, chalkboards have been replaced by whiteboards, a technologically advanced writing surface. Compared to whiteboards, chalkboards are often more difficult to clean and require a great deal of cleaning liquid to remove the spots left by chalky film, whereas whiteboards are more easily cleaned and do not leave a chalky residue.
A good education is important.
All dark and green lying in front of the classroom wall. I am always so tempted to draw on it, to squiggle and declare my random words. But it is not allowed, I stay in my sits staring at it..
writing along the black surface words sprout from my hands,poetic. my scrawl is bubbly and curly in essence. when i’m done i realize my words make no sense.
White letters on black slate stare at me accusingly. Over and over I write on the chalkboard, “I will behave in class.”
Footsteps echo on bare boards, silvered with age and dry. No children crowd the halls, no chalk marks on the chalkboard. This old schoolhouse sits empty now, the students long gone on to live fruitful lives and the teachers to retirement and other such adventures.
chalkboards are pretty cool they show people other how to do many things. there are different colors of chalk to spice up writing. Chalkboards for some bring back memories of school. Many humans relate objects to past experiences and memories, scent is one of the better ones but chalkboards are okay too.
Ah – chalkboards seem to be only used for retro affect now (except by my dad – who uses a small board on his kitchen wall to write his reminder list with white chalk!). Makes me think of the third year at junior school copying off the board and realising how short sighted I was.
The chalk shrieked against the black chalkboard, snapping Lauren’s thoughts back to class. She never was one for paying attention but if there’s one things she hated it was the sound of scratching chalk.
Why is a black board? Why is a board black? So you can write on it in white chalk! It’s a word-reversal riddle. You have to cheat to win. Perhaps the only winning move is not to play at all, but that way you’ll be a prisoner forever.
Nails on a chalkboard one-two-three.
Chalk is made of bones.
The dark green matte board was covered with the remains of white chalk, places where worlds were discovered, kingdoms created and destroyed, wars were started and won — and lost. And never once had the old chalkboard failed its owner, who had been teaching in that same classroom, using that same chalkboard for nearly thirty years.
“Obsolete,” they had told him. They would replace it with a touch screen, with technology pretty, shiny, any new.
He ran his finger over the surface of the chalkboard, white powder sticking to his fingers. Times were changing, and so…
My mom is buying frames to make into mini chalkboards. I want one, but I don’t know how I’ll get it back across the country to my school dorm. What a dilemma.
My hands covered in white as I walk down the hallway. I step outside to clap the erasers. Then back inside I go. The black board is my blank canvas to express who I am. I need to permission or criticism to be who I want to be. Thank you chalkboard, you are my savior.
the teacher wrote on the chalkboard our math problem. it was nearly impossible all but 1 got it wrong. i was the one that got it right. :) the 1st time ever, my life is complete. hahh
the chalk creeks across the board, dulling as the porcelain hand drags it along. a pioneer to the untouched landscape, leaving in its wake words that will teach a class new and unimaginable things… if only chalk were really that grand
As Jared slipped into the classroom, he spotted a desk that was empty. Unfortunately, it was behind Lacey. He sighed, causing several people to look up at him, some with irritated glares. He smiled sheepishly, slipping into the desk and taking out his notebook. He looked up at the chalkboard, which read, “Exam today. No talking!” He slumped in his desk. He was doomed.
I’ve never really used a chalkboard. In this day and age, the closest thing I’ve ever come to a chalkboard was when I was visiting an old schoolhouse for a class field trip. It makes me realize how ignorant I am to the evolution of our society and technology.
She dragged her fingers across the chalkboard, a metallic screeching sound that made my insides curl and my features to twist into an expression of pain, much like everyone else’s in the room. This was her favourite way to get our attention. I’d always thought a simple ‘hello’ would suffice, but I guess each to their own.
The chalkboard is where I wrote my secrets. I couldn’t share them with anyone, so I wrote it down to get it all out. Hearing footsteps would send me flying to the eraser, haphazardly getting rid of the evidence, of my innermost secrets.
No one uses chalkboards anymore.
Only Smartboards…which never work.
When I was in 6th grade, I wrote my friend’s middle name (Emily) on the chalkboard and I don’t think she ever forgave me because she hates it so much.
I hate the powder that comes off the chalkboard and sticks to your clothes when you erase.
chalkboards remind me when life was supposedly nice
ya know
the days your mom used to tell you about
when ice cream men actually gave you ice cream cones
and you would get punished for doing things like getting high
or gettin Fs
before everything was clean and that was okay
I remember the mini chalkboard I had when I was a kid. I always drew on that because I could never find any paper or pencils. I hated to erase my drawings, but I had to if I wanted to draw something else.
he black smoothness of this childhood idol is intoxicating. it brings back memories of old. playgrounds,toys, bliss.
the teacher wrote Communism on the chalkboard, most of the kids looked disgusted, she laughed. “they have manipulated you into thinking that,” she said. Everyone seemed interested.
the teacher restricted the use of her chalkboard to only the most ‘brilliant’ of her students. i was not one of them. when the chance came for me to step up and do the problem on the board i hesitated.
The chalk piece snapped under the strength of Alexa’s strong fingers…her sentence was unfinished, written only in scrawly letters – a half disturbing thought.
the thing in a class room. the thing teachers wirte on to share information. an invention replaced by white boards in schools. the thing in chalkworld. t
Lying in the comfortable cacoon of the room, Jensen dreamt he was standing in a classroom at the chalkboard, explaining to a roomful of students the simple physics of destruction wrought by dozens of nuclear weapons going on in your neighborhood at the same time. One student raised his hand and asked, “but who would want to do such a stupid thing, anyway?”
i like chalkboards. i do not like the sound that people’s fingernails make when they scratch chalkboards. why do people do that? teachers use chalkboards for teaching. teachers teach (usually). sometimes teachers do not teach because they are absent. i went to school yesterday and saw some chalkboards.
Ein Schalk, wer Böses dabei denkt. Es sah alles ganz harmlos aus. Der Milchshake mit Pfefferminzblättern auf der Theke. Kein Alkohol. Eine Nichtraucherbar. Mitten im Zentrum am helllichten Tag. Keine heruntergekommene Kaschemme am Stadtrand im Dunkeln mit ebensolchen Gestalten, wo man unwillkürlich an Drogendealerei denkt.
the chalk board wasn’t a chalkboard. It was a portal. Knowledge was transfered from a seemingly unreal place, to the chalkboard. It was also a path way, bringing that knowledge to us. That chalkboard seemed magic.
I remember the show Chalk Zone about a little guy named Rudy who found magic chalk. When he would draw a circle on the chalkboard, he could go into the “chalk zone” where all of the erased chalk pictures would go. The best part was the theme song. “Who’s got the chalk the cha-cha-cha-chalk zone” Yeah…. lovin’ that shit!!
I couldn’t help but notice the boy standing by the chalkboard. I got goosebumps the longer I stared, and I realized suddenly that he was staring back. I wanted to go up to him, to ask him where he had been, but all I could do was stare. I remembered clearly that one stormy night that his hand had been intertwined with mine, and how we had sat on the porch and watched the storm. It had faded away fast as he left, and I began to miss it.