The chalkboard it the basic writing tablet since early years of school. Imagine all of the incredible things that were at one time written on the chalkboard. All of life’s questions answered on the chalkboard. Imagine what you could do with some chalk and a chalkboard.
once there was a girl and she had a chalkboard it was very ugly and green. The teacher was mean to her and scratched his nails on the chalkboard. She was then sad because she hated this sound. Now, the girl laughs because instead of chalkboards all she has are computers. She sends her old teacher emails about school and chalkboards.
I once wrote a long equation on a chalkboard. It was an incredible Godsend, a mistress and a muse waiting to unlock my brain, add to my future, give me hope, and shower me with freedom of choice. I love it, her, whatever we call mathematics in the primal phase as it prepares to enlighten us during our daily dregs. Blessed be it.
Chalkboards used to be green and you’d use chalk on them. Now they’re white and you don’t use chalk on them. They’re white boards. No one even knows what a chalkboard is today. Might as well call it a dodo bird board. Or a Holy Roman Empire board.
Trilia was your average meat-eating dinosaur. Grateful to the humans for bringing her and he brethren back to life – but lunch was lunch, you couldn’t just change that. Maybe after a billion years of evolution – maaaybe – but for now, that one human was scratching up something fierce on the chalkboard, and it made her ears ring. Her stomach growled.
You just don’t see enough chalkboards anymore. Now its either a marker board or a damn smart board. Smart boards are such pieces of shit, teachers always complain about them. Let’s go back to the good old chalkboard and not spend $2000 per classroom for a hassle of a smartboad.
in school there is one teacher who refused to get rid of his chalk board for a white bored it was funny but sadly I got the other class and my best friend got his class but I liked my other teacher to. I still wish my teacher had a chalk bored.
I love a chalkboard because it brings back memories of all the best parts of school, especially grade school, when learning was still new and so much fun. I loved the mystery of the words as they appeared on the chalkboard as written by the teacher with so much confidence. And oh what a thrill it was to be called upon to write on the chalkboard as a student! Wow and wowee!
I used to love black chalkboards with powdery chalk powder. Quintessential school. But then they made it green and those were rather shrieky. But the worst are the white ones..you need a pen to write on them- Doesn’t that defeat the whole point of calling it a ‘chalk’board?
the answers are up there I know it, maybe if I could squint I could see it, focus, focus… there, got it, okay next answer… I had horrible eyesight growing up but i always sat in the back of the classroom/
She found herself staring at the chalkboard. It helped drown out the constant droning of that voice…nails on a chalkboard if you can believe that. The board needed a good cleaning too.
A bunch of things can go on chalkboard. Letters. Chalk. Chalk dust. Fingernails. But hey, chalkboards are irrelevant nowadays. The only ones left are up in the chemistry rooms. Where I write love letters to Ms. Lewis. Now everyone has smartboards, And dry erase boards. No more clapping erasers for students of the world.
Her voice, like nails on a chalkboard, droned on. The yard needed mowing, the trash needed taken out, the dishes needed done, the grocery shopping needed to… “Honey, please…” he muttered. He rubbed his temples in attempts to reduce the oncoming migraine. As he continued his day-to-day living, picking up the kids, going to work, and attempting to please his wife at night, he found his mundane and routine life boring, and overwhelming. Oh, how easy it would be to pick up that gun from his nightstand…
Nonsense. All this useless data stored on the board, overlooping in wondrous white curves, beautifully false and powerless. No answers, only questions and wrong directions.
Every wall in the room was covered in black slate. All of them were covered in little white words, scrawl that was just barely legible. Except for one, which had been mysteriously wiped clean, leaving only stark black in its place.
Miss Jenkins peered at her students, throwing paper airplanes around and boys pulling pigtails. “Class! … CLASS!!!” she shrieked at the top of her lungs, “Look at the chalkboard!”
The class quieted down and eyes forward. She pointed with a yardstick, “See this diagram? This is the proper method of throwing a paper airplane. Also, always pull pigtails with your right hand, not your left!”
chemistry. eating chalk is like eating tums without flavor. chalk box. crayola. boomers party. green, black. a pink chalkboard would be cool. dust. sneeze. skip texture.
The board was completely blank, I was almost scared of being swallowed by the unnerving darkness of it’s ardoise. Yet I could not look away, and my hand was drawn to it as if the chalk had willpower greater than my own.
There he sits, covered in dust, choking on the white cloud that surrounds him, which will probably eventually give him asthma in later years, seeing as he’s out here every day after school…
well teachers use them i cant be around them they r black nd you use chalk and idk they r very black nd bigggg nad you see them in schools nd other places where they use them. ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm did i say they r black and biggg and welll they areee use to be wrote upon. with colorful chalk.
I grabbed a piece of green chalk and pressed down, finally looping it into a B. I continuously went back to the bin to get different colours, so my Happy Birthday message could be colourful.
the chalkboard loomed at the front of the dark empty room. it seemed to shout at me. what could it want? my only comfort in the fact that i had with me my stuffed tiger with the superman cape that i had lovingly attached to his neck nearly two decades before. what was i doing here? why did this chalkboard hold so much significance in my recent thoughts?
there was once a kid who owned a chalkboard. he was deaf. and blind. and had no feeling when he touched things. he didn’t even know he was alive, but he loved this chalkboard. he put his dick in it too. all the time. he was 6 years old however he was arrested by police for public indecency.
i had this mad-scary teacher in 7th grade, but boy could he teach math. one of his many quirks was that he would erase in perfectly straight lines down the board (no upstrokes). no one complained about the tedious routine, though, because we were all terrified. we learned later he was deaf in one ear and that’s why he was always yelling.
why were they ever invented, i hate them they remind me of school and i hate school. they make your hands feel absolutely disgusting and i wont touch chalk or chalk boards. they make grose sounds. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
“All right, Tommy. I’ve had just about enough,” Ms. Riverdale strode over to Tommy while he hastily jerked his arm back to his side. “You will write the following on the chalkboard twenty-two times,” Ms. Riverdale announced. ‘I promise I will not keep trying to taste Susie Wilson’s hair.'” “But it smells like strawberries,” Tommy pointed out reasonably. “I was just trying to see if it would taste like them, too.”
I used to have a chalkboard in my house. It was awesome because I got to draw and play games with it. My grandma gave it to me when I was small, but then it stopped working. The chalk wouldn’t write anymore. So my mom broke it and gave it away. But i still like writing on sidewalks with chalk, but I don’t like to erase anything bad out of fear that it will be sent to chalkzone.
Her hands flew across the board faste than my ees could follow. “It’s beautiful,” I gasped.
She did not look at me as she replied. “I try my best.” It was 4:32 on a Friday afternoon and I was still in the classroom. My bus had long since departed, but I did not really care. Now, it ws just she, I and a board with some chalk.
Black, dusty covered in spelling words with a few math problems interspersed. I love a chalkboard, the feel of the chalk. Dry erase can’t compare to the solid feel of a chalkboard.
Chalkboard. You see something written and you may add something or erase what is. It can be washed and everything written can be permanently erased. Some wish life were like this.
Every day looking at meaningless scribbles of pointless words scrawled by a hand of someone who doesn’t care whether or not we care, just that we pass the test so he can be done with us and shoo us along to our next painstaking class.
the chalkboard had so much written on it that it was crowded with words. My mind was overwhelmed and could not take in all that was written. In a pursuit to understand the message, I was left with no other recourse than to start erasing non-essentials.
the chalkboard showed our fears
our hopes
our answers
and our questions
your shadow reflected the end
of time
and of growth
we pounded the erasers on its green surface
white
Sitting in the back of a class, just waiting for him to turn around, watching the chalk scrape back and forth on the vast black board, knowing that he’d never look this way. Your name is called, and chalk in hand you make your way there, to the front. You’ll get his attention chalk and all.
Sounds I hate. Nails on a chalkboard, the dentist’s toothbrush, water being poured into a nalgene bottle, babies crying, my mom yelling my name, footsteps from the floor above.
It was year three and the teacher stood at the front of the class, flowing dress, all power in front of the little children. The room smelled of chalk as she scraped the words over the board. We fidgeted manically, thinking of lunch. She wondered when she would die.
He entered in to the room full of anxious children, all of them having their first day. He has been teaching the Nursery class in the school for the last five years. He picked up the chalk and went up to chalkboard and wrote a big ‘A’ across the board.
The chalkboard it the basic writing tablet since early years of school. Imagine all of the incredible things that were at one time written on the chalkboard. All of life’s questions answered on the chalkboard. Imagine what you could do with some chalk and a chalkboard.
once there was a girl and she had a chalkboard it was very ugly and green. The teacher was mean to her and scratched his nails on the chalkboard. She was then sad because she hated this sound. Now, the girl laughs because instead of chalkboards all she has are computers. She sends her old teacher emails about school and chalkboards.
I once wrote a long equation on a chalkboard. It was an incredible Godsend, a mistress and a muse waiting to unlock my brain, add to my future, give me hope, and shower me with freedom of choice. I love it, her, whatever we call mathematics in the primal phase as it prepares to enlighten us during our daily dregs. Blessed be it.
Chalkboards used to be green and you’d use chalk on them. Now they’re white and you don’t use chalk on them. They’re white boards. No one even knows what a chalkboard is today. Might as well call it a dodo bird board. Or a Holy Roman Empire board.
Trilia was your average meat-eating dinosaur. Grateful to the humans for bringing her and he brethren back to life – but lunch was lunch, you couldn’t just change that. Maybe after a billion years of evolution – maaaybe – but for now, that one human was scratching up something fierce on the chalkboard, and it made her ears ring. Her stomach growled.
teachers use chalkboards to teach students without speaking. chalkboards are hard to clean. chalkboards are used to write on with chalk.
You just don’t see enough chalkboards anymore. Now its either a marker board or a damn smart board. Smart boards are such pieces of shit, teachers always complain about them. Let’s go back to the good old chalkboard and not spend $2000 per classroom for a hassle of a smartboad.
in school there is one teacher who refused to get rid of his chalk board for a white bored it was funny but sadly I got the other class and my best friend got his class but I liked my other teacher to. I still wish my teacher had a chalk bored.
I love a chalkboard because it brings back memories of all the best parts of school, especially grade school, when learning was still new and so much fun. I loved the mystery of the words as they appeared on the chalkboard as written by the teacher with so much confidence. And oh what a thrill it was to be called upon to write on the chalkboard as a student! Wow and wowee!
I used to love black chalkboards with powdery chalk powder. Quintessential school. But then they made it green and those were rather shrieky. But the worst are the white ones..you need a pen to write on them- Doesn’t that defeat the whole point of calling it a ‘chalk’board?
the answers are up there I know it, maybe if I could squint I could see it, focus, focus… there, got it, okay next answer… I had horrible eyesight growing up but i always sat in the back of the classroom/
She found herself staring at the chalkboard. It helped drown out the constant droning of that voice…nails on a chalkboard if you can believe that. The board needed a good cleaning too.
A bunch of things can go on chalkboard. Letters. Chalk. Chalk dust. Fingernails. But hey, chalkboards are irrelevant nowadays. The only ones left are up in the chemistry rooms. Where I write love letters to Ms. Lewis. Now everyone has smartboards, And dry erase boards. No more clapping erasers for students of the world.
Her voice, like nails on a chalkboard, droned on. The yard needed mowing, the trash needed taken out, the dishes needed done, the grocery shopping needed to… “Honey, please…” he muttered. He rubbed his temples in attempts to reduce the oncoming migraine. As he continued his day-to-day living, picking up the kids, going to work, and attempting to please his wife at night, he found his mundane and routine life boring, and overwhelming. Oh, how easy it would be to pick up that gun from his nightstand…
Nonsense. All this useless data stored on the board, overlooping in wondrous white curves, beautifully false and powerless. No answers, only questions and wrong directions.
Every wall in the room was covered in black slate. All of them were covered in little white words, scrawl that was just barely legible. Except for one, which had been mysteriously wiped clean, leaving only stark black in its place.
Miss Jenkins peered at her students, throwing paper airplanes around and boys pulling pigtails. “Class! … CLASS!!!” she shrieked at the top of her lungs, “Look at the chalkboard!”
The class quieted down and eyes forward. She pointed with a yardstick, “See this diagram? This is the proper method of throwing a paper airplane. Also, always pull pigtails with your right hand, not your left!”
chemistry. eating chalk is like eating tums without flavor. chalk box. crayola. boomers party. green, black. a pink chalkboard would be cool. dust. sneeze. skip texture.
The board was completely blank, I was almost scared of being swallowed by the unnerving darkness of it’s ardoise. Yet I could not look away, and my hand was drawn to it as if the chalk had willpower greater than my own.
There he sits, covered in dust, choking on the white cloud that surrounds him, which will probably eventually give him asthma in later years, seeing as he’s out here every day after school…
well teachers use them i cant be around them they r black nd you use chalk and idk they r very black nd bigggg nad you see them in schools nd other places where they use them. ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm did i say they r black and biggg and welll they areee use to be wrote upon. with colorful chalk.
I grabbed a piece of green chalk and pressed down, finally looping it into a B. I continuously went back to the bin to get different colours, so my Happy Birthday message could be colourful.
the chalkboard loomed at the front of the dark empty room. it seemed to shout at me. what could it want? my only comfort in the fact that i had with me my stuffed tiger with the superman cape that i had lovingly attached to his neck nearly two decades before. what was i doing here? why did this chalkboard hold so much significance in my recent thoughts?
i already did this and i hate chalk and chalkboards
there was once a kid who owned a chalkboard. he was deaf. and blind. and had no feeling when he touched things. he didn’t even know he was alive, but he loved this chalkboard. he put his dick in it too. all the time. he was 6 years old however he was arrested by police for public indecency.
i had this mad-scary teacher in 7th grade, but boy could he teach math. one of his many quirks was that he would erase in perfectly straight lines down the board (no upstrokes). no one complained about the tedious routine, though, because we were all terrified. we learned later he was deaf in one ear and that’s why he was always yelling.
why were they ever invented, i hate them they remind me of school and i hate school. they make your hands feel absolutely disgusting and i wont touch chalk or chalk boards. they make grose sounds. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
“All right, Tommy. I’ve had just about enough,” Ms. Riverdale strode over to Tommy while he hastily jerked his arm back to his side. “You will write the following on the chalkboard twenty-two times,” Ms. Riverdale announced. ‘I promise I will not keep trying to taste Susie Wilson’s hair.'” “But it smells like strawberries,” Tommy pointed out reasonably. “I was just trying to see if it would taste like them, too.”
I used to have a chalkboard in my house. It was awesome because I got to draw and play games with it. My grandma gave it to me when I was small, but then it stopped working. The chalk wouldn’t write anymore. So my mom broke it and gave it away. But i still like writing on sidewalks with chalk, but I don’t like to erase anything bad out of fear that it will be sent to chalkzone.
Her hands flew across the board faste than my ees could follow. “It’s beautiful,” I gasped.
She did not look at me as she replied. “I try my best.” It was 4:32 on a Friday afternoon and I was still in the classroom. My bus had long since departed, but I did not really care. Now, it ws just she, I and a board with some chalk.
Black, dusty covered in spelling words with a few math problems interspersed. I love a chalkboard, the feel of the chalk. Dry erase can’t compare to the solid feel of a chalkboard.
Stiff like it sounds, and rough on my lips when it is spoken. Dry to taste and heavy to breathe. It is what it is supposed to describe.
Chalkboard. You see something written and you may add something or erase what is. It can be washed and everything written can be permanently erased. Some wish life were like this.
Every day looking at meaningless scribbles of pointless words scrawled by a hand of someone who doesn’t care whether or not we care, just that we pass the test so he can be done with us and shoo us along to our next painstaking class.
the chalkboard had so much written on it that it was crowded with words. My mind was overwhelmed and could not take in all that was written. In a pursuit to understand the message, I was left with no other recourse than to start erasing non-essentials.
the chalkboard showed our fears
our hopes
our answers
and our questions
your shadow reflected the end
of time
and of growth
we pounded the erasers on its green surface
white
Sitting in the back of a class, just waiting for him to turn around, watching the chalk scrape back and forth on the vast black board, knowing that he’d never look this way. Your name is called, and chalk in hand you make your way there, to the front. You’ll get his attention chalk and all.
Sounds I hate. Nails on a chalkboard, the dentist’s toothbrush, water being poured into a nalgene bottle, babies crying, my mom yelling my name, footsteps from the floor above.
It was year three and the teacher stood at the front of the class, flowing dress, all power in front of the little children. The room smelled of chalk as she scraped the words over the board. We fidgeted manically, thinking of lunch. She wondered when she would die.
He entered in to the room full of anxious children, all of them having their first day. He has been teaching the Nursery class in the school for the last five years. He picked up the chalk and went up to chalkboard and wrote a big ‘A’ across the board.