The chalkboard was filled with scrawls. Jack looked over them, taking notes in his mind.
“Max, come here,” He called. “I found a flaw in your math. Take a look.”
He pointed to a particular spot.
Max nodded. “Crap.”
“Calculate it again.”
“K. Why do you need this formula so bad?”
“No reason. I’m not paying you to ask questions.”
The chalboard screeched in protest as sharp nails scraped down it. The sound peirced my ears, and sent shivers down my spine. I heard several other people gasp and cover their ears at the uncomfortable sound intruding in our ears. We all looked up to see Mrs. Cookrin staring at us impatiantly. Well she had everyone’s attention now.
you’ve spent an eternity writing on that chalkboard,
sucking in it’s dust,
hearing the dragging of the monster’s nails,
forever in the back of your mind,
waiting to jump out when you’re most vulnerable.
but who’s to say your punishment was valid,
who’s to say you are guilty,
you’re spineless and easily manipulated,
that alone should be punishment enough,
at least in the eyes of the callous.
but who’s to say your innocent?
you broke apart a family,
just like you broke every piece of chalk,
and when necessary,
wiped them away with a brush,
leaving them in nothing but a cloud of you’re crystal.
But once a slave to the monster,
always a slave to the monster
even if disguises itself as Ice Princess wearing a Crystal Crown.
The chalkboard always creeped me out. The way it was always dry, like a soul scraped clean and left with nothing but dust. The teacher always called on me to answer the questions, and I cringed before even touching the white stone to its surface. I knew it would scrape across and ruin my spine farther, that I would never feel the same for the rest of the day. It was, perhaps, a reflection of my soul, who would want to touch that?
a chalkboard is something you write on. They are usually black, but sometimes are green. They have an odd texture. You write with chalk on them. Reason why they are called chalkboards. Chalkboards are amazing! :)
The kids draw on the chalkboard how they would like the world to be. They used planty of colors, but above all, green, and happy faces, because everyone was friend with everyone
Those abstract lines on the board were her favorite things everyday. She saw nothing, but the board when she stroked the chalkboard with the soft dusty chalk. She didn’t care if her drawings were not great; She just loved the sound of the soft chalk against the hard, dark green board. She couldn’t find many chalkboard nowadays, considering everyone used white dry-erase boards, but writing on chalkboards made her feel alive, young, and as if her whole childhood was relived.
it was dark, the candlelight was burning out, they needed to figure out the solution before they found them, before the sacrifice began, before amy died.
I am really upset that chalkboard is the only word that comes up on this website. How fucking boring, mix it up a little bit. Sorry, I am on my period.
It’s black, you write on it with chalk. there’s nothing special about it, but it does have a cool effect that makes everyone think that it’s so cool and antique feeling. there’s a lot of chalk dust that can affect your breathing and lungs, but not if you don’t inhale too much. chalkboards used to be used in school, but now they usually use white boards and the such.
its a board that Iused when i was a kid and now it is not being used anymore. today people use white board and removable washer whatever. what the heck are you doing every time I click the back space it is some sort of a test? why are you doing htis whywhywhywhy Oh well. i think I did good.
I hate the sound of squeaky nails on the chalkboard. It just makes my body and my head cringe. A lot of schools don’t have chalkboard anymore. They used to be backboards, then chalkboards, then whiteboards, now smartboards. What is becoming of our world?
Suddenly the screech of Ushio’s radio broke through their pants and moans like nails on a chalkboard. Yusei let out an undignified yelp of surprise, and Ushio himself almost jumped and dislodged the other male from his embrace.
“Ushio! Answer dammit, the camera isn’t working again!”
Know one knew what she would write this time. She’s always pensive and pasing her line in front. The line she never crosses, in fear of? We never knew. But when she started to write, she wouldnt stop. Our smiles in admiration, inspired her for the next hour. Class began.
I slowly walked to the chalkboard, making a firm face to show that the laughter did not affect me. Quickly writing out the problem and answer, I turned around, expecting gasps of surprise. But everyone’s attention was turned to the boy at the door: J.H. I couldn’t do anything but freeze in my spot and stop breathing.
everyday I go to school. people say I have it made. that school is the easiest and most fun part of life. but i disagree. high school is awful. im in a place where everyone is different than me. everyone is trying to discover themselves and whatnot but that just makes everyone caddy and mean.
the white dust powder. vanish like smoke, up in the air, don’t get it my hair. what. where’s the eraser. start over. do it again. make it right. make it better. get back. poof. dusty foot philosopher on the black board of life
I always hated chalk dust and old-school erasers, but i really do think that classrooms lost some aesthetic appeal when white-boards started replacing old slate chalkboards. You’ve gotta love the classics.
The teacher stood at the chalkboard, her hands shaking just a little. It was her first day in a brand new school and the class was about to walk through that door. She took a deep breath and steadied the piece of chalk.
“Here goes nothing…” She said as she began to write her name in her crisp cursive
a chalkboard reminds me of school, i don’t think ive used one since school, it could be a handy thing to have, we need to write more, why don’t we write, we type! a chalk board is fun cause you can use different colours and display emotions through it. you can draw pictures on it! it does get messy tho with all the chalk stuff, oh we have one actually in our flat its fun
I saw the white dust fly from the chalkboard as I wiped it clean of today’s vocabulary lesson. The children behind me giggled when two white handprints appeared on the back of my black skirt. When would I live the life that I dreamed? I never thought that I would be a school teacher, though my mother seemed to have know.
paint dirty hands the teacher looks at the students and says “write it on the board!” they go “aw hell no” and then the dust goes everywhere and the globe on the teachers desk falls off and it rolls down the hallway to the next room where that teacher is teaching her kids about the history of the world. why do chalkboards have to be about school
It was my turn and I gingerly walked up to the chalkboard with great trepidation. Algebra was not my forte and trying to solve the problem was going to be just about impossible. What was I going to do, this was going to be embarrassing.
An empty slate of endless possibilites…she peered at it fearfully around the corner of the freshly painted door. Everything here felt new, foreign, unknown. She didn’t know why she had signed up for this job in the first place. But they needed the money and this was the only way. Besides, it might not be that bad…that chalkboard was an empty canvas of the future.
the first time she ever wrote her name was on the chalkboard. holding that chalk in the palm of her small hand, she had just learned the alphabet. the teacher waited on her impatiently, the tapping of her foot echoing off the board in front of her.
the white chalk makes sounds so penetrating to my ears. an orgasm is spewed on the wall. white chalk. white cum. teachers. students. desks. mess. dusty hands. pants spattered with chalk dust. pencils. papers. learning.
I was younger when it happened, but the teacher, she was old. She was the type that if things didn’t go her way or you talked in the middle of her lesson, she would scratch the board. She didn’t care how much it annoyed us. She secretly enjoyed it. I think she was into freaky stuff. Just thought I’d share a childhood memory.
you where never supposed to travel in status between mars and earth while pregnant.even with all the einstein chalkboard notes at their disposal,no one knew the effects of status on the fetus in the uterus.still, kathleen was three months pregnant with bogdan when she started her return.
chalk dust filled the air as she wrote on her wall. poems slowly filled up the black board, poems about anything and everything her heart desired. nothing to fancy, nothing to impressive, just anything that came to mind. her wall was her diary, her love, her heart and nobody could take that away, not even the close mindedness of her peers, the judgements of her mother, or the screams of her father, this was a way to get away from it all.
On the chalkboard I think about the answer I must put. All eyes on me. Thinking. Hoping. Hoping I get the right answer. Or hoping my answer pleases everyone. In this society if everyone doesnt agree youre looked down upon. Fitting in. Conformity.
the chalkboard at the front of the class room was pale and cold, just as the night before. “Class!” yelled Mistress Fronine. “No more of this… this… Blasphemy!”
Jenny bravely stepped to the front of the classroom. “Blasphemy? heh,” she laughed, “This is SPARTA!!!”
chalk
teaching
teacher
children
school
writing
drawing
pictures
words
funny
messages
notes
writing
dust
old
erasers
messy
learning
white boards
spelling
math
the little girl wrote one the chalkboard. powder covered her face as she clapped the erasers, she coughed loudly. more dust filled the air the more she coughed. thankfully, a window was open that ventilated the air(:
blackhole for words, nimble minds look to you with full trust
today who will i be? math wiz or dunce
will you be the source of my great victory or public defeat?
bueller. bueller? *writes on board* now onto less interesting things, such as — why and how these things came to pass. where is ferris bueller!
gum pops from offstage.
The chalkboard was filled with scrawls. Jack looked over them, taking notes in his mind.
“Max, come here,” He called. “I found a flaw in your math. Take a look.”
He pointed to a particular spot.
Max nodded. “Crap.”
“Calculate it again.”
“K. Why do you need this formula so bad?”
“No reason. I’m not paying you to ask questions.”
The chalboard screeched in protest as sharp nails scraped down it. The sound peirced my ears, and sent shivers down my spine. I heard several other people gasp and cover their ears at the uncomfortable sound intruding in our ears. We all looked up to see Mrs. Cookrin staring at us impatiantly. Well she had everyone’s attention now.
ideas written down.
knew theories, ideas and concepts,
but then, all of a sudden,
they are swept away.
gone from the world forever.
you’ve spent an eternity writing on that chalkboard,
sucking in it’s dust,
hearing the dragging of the monster’s nails,
forever in the back of your mind,
waiting to jump out when you’re most vulnerable.
but who’s to say your punishment was valid,
who’s to say you are guilty,
you’re spineless and easily manipulated,
that alone should be punishment enough,
at least in the eyes of the callous.
but who’s to say your innocent?
you broke apart a family,
just like you broke every piece of chalk,
and when necessary,
wiped them away with a brush,
leaving them in nothing but a cloud of you’re crystal.
But once a slave to the monster,
always a slave to the monster
even if disguises itself as Ice Princess wearing a Crystal Crown.
The chalkboard always creeped me out. The way it was always dry, like a soul scraped clean and left with nothing but dust. The teacher always called on me to answer the questions, and I cringed before even touching the white stone to its surface. I knew it would scrape across and ruin my spine farther, that I would never feel the same for the rest of the day. It was, perhaps, a reflection of my soul, who would want to touch that?
a chalkboard is something you write on. They are usually black, but sometimes are green. They have an odd texture. You write with chalk on them. Reason why they are called chalkboards. Chalkboards are amazing! :)
The kids draw on the chalkboard how they would like the world to be. They used planty of colors, but above all, green, and happy faces, because everyone was friend with everyone
Those abstract lines on the board were her favorite things everyday. She saw nothing, but the board when she stroked the chalkboard with the soft dusty chalk. She didn’t care if her drawings were not great; She just loved the sound of the soft chalk against the hard, dark green board. She couldn’t find many chalkboard nowadays, considering everyone used white dry-erase boards, but writing on chalkboards made her feel alive, young, and as if her whole childhood was relived.
it was dark, the candlelight was burning out, they needed to figure out the solution before they found them, before the sacrifice began, before amy died.
They make awful, AWFUL sounds. So dusty. So temporary. So gross.
Dry erase was a good idea.
I am really upset that chalkboard is the only word that comes up on this website. How fucking boring, mix it up a little bit. Sorry, I am on my period.
She froze. The blankness stared back at her, relentless, waiting for a response.
It’s black, you write on it with chalk. there’s nothing special about it, but it does have a cool effect that makes everyone think that it’s so cool and antique feeling. there’s a lot of chalk dust that can affect your breathing and lungs, but not if you don’t inhale too much. chalkboards used to be used in school, but now they usually use white boards and the such.
its a board that Iused when i was a kid and now it is not being used anymore. today people use white board and removable washer whatever. what the heck are you doing every time I click the back space it is some sort of a test? why are you doing htis whywhywhywhy Oh well. i think I did good.
I hate the sound of squeaky nails on the chalkboard. It just makes my body and my head cringe. A lot of schools don’t have chalkboard anymore. They used to be backboards, then chalkboards, then whiteboards, now smartboards. What is becoming of our world?
Suddenly the screech of Ushio’s radio broke through their pants and moans like nails on a chalkboard. Yusei let out an undignified yelp of surprise, and Ushio himself almost jumped and dislodged the other male from his embrace.
“Ushio! Answer dammit, the camera isn’t working again!”
The chalkboard.
Know one knew what she would write this time. She’s always pensive and pasing her line in front. The line she never crosses, in fear of? We never knew. But when she started to write, she wouldnt stop. Our smiles in admiration, inspired her for the next hour. Class began.
I slowly walked to the chalkboard, making a firm face to show that the laughter did not affect me. Quickly writing out the problem and answer, I turned around, expecting gasps of surprise. But everyone’s attention was turned to the boy at the door: J.H. I couldn’t do anything but freeze in my spot and stop breathing.
everyday I go to school. people say I have it made. that school is the easiest and most fun part of life. but i disagree. high school is awful. im in a place where everyone is different than me. everyone is trying to discover themselves and whatnot but that just makes everyone caddy and mean.
the white dust powder. vanish like smoke, up in the air, don’t get it my hair. what. where’s the eraser. start over. do it again. make it right. make it better. get back. poof. dusty foot philosopher on the black board of life
I always hated chalk dust and old-school erasers, but i really do think that classrooms lost some aesthetic appeal when white-boards started replacing old slate chalkboards. You’ve gotta love the classics.
The teacher stood at the chalkboard, her hands shaking just a little. It was her first day in a brand new school and the class was about to walk through that door. She took a deep breath and steadied the piece of chalk.
“Here goes nothing…” She said as she began to write her name in her crisp cursive
a chalkboard reminds me of school, i don’t think ive used one since school, it could be a handy thing to have, we need to write more, why don’t we write, we type! a chalk board is fun cause you can use different colours and display emotions through it. you can draw pictures on it! it does get messy tho with all the chalk stuff, oh we have one actually in our flat its fun
I saw the white dust fly from the chalkboard as I wiped it clean of today’s vocabulary lesson. The children behind me giggled when two white handprints appeared on the back of my black skirt. When would I live the life that I dreamed? I never thought that I would be a school teacher, though my mother seemed to have know.
paint dirty hands the teacher looks at the students and says “write it on the board!” they go “aw hell no” and then the dust goes everywhere and the globe on the teachers desk falls off and it rolls down the hallway to the next room where that teacher is teaching her kids about the history of the world. why do chalkboards have to be about school
It was my turn and I gingerly walked up to the chalkboard with great trepidation. Algebra was not my forte and trying to solve the problem was going to be just about impossible. What was I going to do, this was going to be embarrassing.
An empty slate of endless possibilites…she peered at it fearfully around the corner of the freshly painted door. Everything here felt new, foreign, unknown. She didn’t know why she had signed up for this job in the first place. But they needed the money and this was the only way. Besides, it might not be that bad…that chalkboard was an empty canvas of the future.
the first time she ever wrote her name was on the chalkboard. holding that chalk in the palm of her small hand, she had just learned the alphabet. the teacher waited on her impatiently, the tapping of her foot echoing off the board in front of her.
the white chalk makes sounds so penetrating to my ears. an orgasm is spewed on the wall. white chalk. white cum. teachers. students. desks. mess. dusty hands. pants spattered with chalk dust. pencils. papers. learning.
The love is white and sketch on my nails. Don’t you think? Don’t you need somebody to love? Like the song, handwritten.
I was younger when it happened, but the teacher, she was old. She was the type that if things didn’t go her way or you talked in the middle of her lesson, she would scratch the board. She didn’t care how much it annoyed us. She secretly enjoyed it. I think she was into freaky stuff. Just thought I’d share a childhood memory.
you where never supposed to travel in status between mars and earth while pregnant.even with all the einstein chalkboard notes at their disposal,no one knew the effects of status on the fetus in the uterus.still, kathleen was three months pregnant with bogdan when she started her return.
chalk dust filled the air as she wrote on her wall. poems slowly filled up the black board, poems about anything and everything her heart desired. nothing to fancy, nothing to impressive, just anything that came to mind. her wall was her diary, her love, her heart and nobody could take that away, not even the close mindedness of her peers, the judgements of her mother, or the screams of her father, this was a way to get away from it all.
Hello this is me trying to figure it out this thing…i have no clue what so ever
I am experimenting this new concept and it seems quite innovating
On the chalkboard I think about the answer I must put. All eyes on me. Thinking. Hoping. Hoping I get the right answer. Or hoping my answer pleases everyone. In this society if everyone doesnt agree youre looked down upon. Fitting in. Conformity.
the chalkboard at the front of the class room was pale and cold, just as the night before. “Class!” yelled Mistress Fronine. “No more of this… this… Blasphemy!”
Jenny bravely stepped to the front of the classroom. “Blasphemy? heh,” she laughed, “This is SPARTA!!!”
chalk
teaching
teacher
children
school
writing
drawing
pictures
words
funny
messages
notes
writing
dust
old
erasers
messy
learning
white boards
spelling
math
the little girl wrote one the chalkboard. powder covered her face as she clapped the erasers, she coughed loudly. more dust filled the air the more she coughed. thankfully, a window was open that ventilated the air(:
blackhole for words, nimble minds look to you with full trust
today who will i be? math wiz or dunce
will you be the source of my great victory or public defeat?