He went up to the chalkboard, sweat prickling on his brow. He hadn’t done last night’s lesson. he knew it, the teacher knew it, and in the next minute the class would too. lost and
the chalkboard is black and the markings of white writing and shapes are engulfing all space. Before long, the board will get wiped clean and another layer of lines and riddles will once again dance across its pane. The chalkboard is black. Still. Im
the chalk scraped loudly against the chalkboard before me, finally breaking the silence that filled the room. it was hard to focus, knowing so many people behind were watching, waiting intensely, for something to happen. in truth, i did not know what i was writing: what the right word was.
so all i could think of to write was: NOTHING.
the teacher writes on the chalkboard. it is the most annoying sound. it’s a sound that reminds me of being trapped, in an educational system that allows us all to fall through the cracks. it reminds me that summer is over.. and i’m stuck in school for another 10 months.
My chalkboard was dusty and green. Mrs. Johns used to write on it a lot. White, powder clinging to her skirt. A white ring around my arm when she grabbed me.
ooo how people dont like the chalkboard immediately they go for the memory of the sound of when someone scratches their nails on the chalkboard, no fun
There, upon the chalkboard was a single line. That line is what I’ve based my whole life around; so easy to be erased and forgotten but yet so very vital. That line, written in chalk is the only thing I’ve ever known.
shed been writing for over an hour. trying to find that formula that was just write… what was the ratio of gifts to love to romance to work? how could se organize her life in such a way that everything would be perfect? She had been searching for so long.
Chalkboard. Nails scraping on it. Why does everyone hate that sound? Man, I hate it. It’s just kind of odd for a universally horrible noise. Anyway. I remember in fourth grade when cleaning the chalkboard at the end of the day was the greatest classroom chore. I still don’t know why. Maybe there’s something satisfying about making a blank new slate all over again.
I hate the sound it makes when it’s being written on an off angle. When i’m a teacher o hope. I get to write on a dry erase board. Those are much more efficient and easier to write on. I reemever in 4th grade the chalkboard looked sol tall but when I went backto my olds cool, I actually stood taller than it which was actually really weird to look at from another perspective e
Chalkboards bring back the memories of a child. Sitting in the small classrooms at your small desk with the giant chalkboard at the front of the class room. Chalkboards are used to show demonstrations or used make an announcement. I have never seen a chalkboard used outside of a classroom.
Chalkboard reminds me of my schooll days when all the lectures started with titles on the chalkboard. All the knowledge that i accumulated was thanks to the chalkboard. It is a knowledge giver and has a great memory and contribution to each one’s education and life. It has given me so many memories.
writing on a board with chalk, used at school, black and white, dusty and irrating on the skin. memories of school. kids love them, teacher use them.come in different sizes. have been replaced these days by white boards.
Used in classrooms around the world for decades now, the chalkboard has become nearly a standard part of the learning process, as it is used to demonstrate and give a more hands-on approach to teaching the student.
Nails across the chalkboard. Fingers intertwined. Holding a cigarette. People claim that the hands are the most important part of the body, without them, nothing would ever be done.
Maybe that’s the truth. But maybe all we need is you.
How am I supposed to know.
reminds me of elementary spelling bee contests. the loser would have to clap the erasers at the end of the day. i never got stuck with that task because i always won. always.
The chalkboard was clean, empty, a fresh slate. It was hard to really know where to start, which area to dirty first. Not wanting to mess up I was hesitant to even begin. I stared blankly, and finally I just put the chalk to the board and let it flow. Suddenly the entire board was filled with color, with chaos. This chaos kept the viewer constantly looking, and this was truly beautiful. There’s only so much to take in with a blank slate.
thehsound of the wonky bit of chalk on the blackboard went through his head and screeched like a Harpie , like a Banshee it was terrible , horrible , awful – I mean I nearly died it was so awful I just didn’t know what to do at all , it really was dreadful . the teacher was such an idiot he just went on blahing about the SEcond World War , well I thouhgt this is torture maybe he knows the Natzis used this torture too . I don’t know its sos awful , so terrible . I was so sick of listening to the teacher he was such a pain, even to look at he was horrible , some of the kids kept screaming luvly ugly , luvly ugly he kept on trying to teach he didn’t get the message he wasn’t eye candy , we didn’t want him anymore , give us a young teacher we didn’t want him , not at all , never again, ever . And believe me we got rid of him , he has no job now and we are happy . We are rich , he is poor , he is old , we don’t care or maybe we do maybe we want him to find a suitable job , teaching is not for him , not at all. Megan sadi he is signing on now at the Labour Exchange , we hate him and we hope he suffers .
i always hated when i was in elementry schoola dn the teachers would write on the walls with chalk, and it would scrrrreeech really loud, ugh!! worst sound ever
There I was, sitting in geometry class, dozing off as usual. I was woken up by an obnoxious scolding from my teacher, and as I sat there, I realized for the first time that my teacher has HUGE tits! I couldn’t help but stare and bask in their glory. She then prompted me to get up and define the terms she had up on the chalkboard. As I began my way to the front of the class, still enthralled by her luscious funbags, I noticed a plethora gasps filling the room. I turned around to see what all the hubbub was about and lo and behold they were all staring at my groin in awe and disgust. I screamed and yelled upon beholding the strange growth in my pants and somehow ended up on top of my teacher with her tatas in my face and my boner near her nether regions. And that’s the closet I ever got to losing my virginity.
the images are erased and melt into a different world where they come alive. the words are transformed into dances in my head. the colors shift to emotions in my heart.
It is black in class rooms teachers use it to explain to kids what they are learning. You can draw all sorts of pictures now there is chalkboardpaint that you paint directly on the wall no board actually needed pretty cool. Chris had some in his room. I think it would be cool to paint the wall by my mirror with this so then my friends can draw and leave me cool little notes and such. There are really only white boards now because chalk was messy and wasnt as effective as a white board i
So satisfying, the feel of the chalk as it kisses the board. Click, click, click! I think I became a teacher because I loved writing on the chalkboard and listening to myself talk. I miss the chalkboard. But I still talk to myself.
the csound of nails on it are gross the feeling of chalk on my hands is dry and i dont like it the contract of the colors against the dakr is beautiful it reminds me of scool i dont like the word chalk at all draw
One word that can make the sweetest woman turn cold.
One word that will make you dream things you never thought you could.
One word that will make you laugh.
One word that can change your mind.
Any idea what that word is???
….yeah me neither.
There’s an empty chalkboard staring back at her, begging to be written on. It has scratches on it, from years of previous abuse from teachers and students a like. With a shaky hand, she begins to mark up the board. She’s no longer aware of her environment, of what she’s writing or what time or date it was. She just knew the desire to fill in empty spaces had overpowered her again, and she had responded to it like she always had. When she was done, she couldn’t even understand the phrases written. Everything was all over the place. Everything from the words to the pictures and symbols seemed crammed and incomplete. Nothing seemed to make sense, and even became more confusing when she read it out loud or tried to find a deeper meaning behind it. It became frustrating and overall annoying. She gave up her futile attempt as the bell rang, signaled the end of lunch before heading off to her next class.
Dusty white words temporarily taking it’s place against a solid green background, to somehow inspire others or save others with it’s message, that it’s creator failed to interpret.
i remember in the 4th grade, this teacher of mine would always wipe his back against the chalkboard and walk around with his words on his polo shirt. He had a really shiny head, the kind that people probably wax every morning to gt that way. I won my first speech award in that class..for the writing, not the actual presentation.
Before I die I must —
write here is what is right. Right here is where the writing happens the righting of the world
in–
blood I cut my skin and chalk comes out in clouds of dust
He went up to the chalkboard, sweat prickling on his brow. He hadn’t done last night’s lesson. he knew it, the teacher knew it, and in the next minute the class would too. lost and
the chalkboard is black and the markings of white writing and shapes are engulfing all space. Before long, the board will get wiped clean and another layer of lines and riddles will once again dance across its pane. The chalkboard is black. Still. Im
the chalk scraped loudly against the chalkboard before me, finally breaking the silence that filled the room. it was hard to focus, knowing so many people behind were watching, waiting intensely, for something to happen. in truth, i did not know what i was writing: what the right word was.
so all i could think of to write was: NOTHING.
teachers write on chalboards and they teach and you learn and i dont know what else to say expecpt they help and scratches on chalkboards suck so much
shit’s old.
the teacher writes on the chalkboard. it is the most annoying sound. it’s a sound that reminds me of being trapped, in an educational system that allows us all to fall through the cracks. it reminds me that summer is over.. and i’m stuck in school for another 10 months.
Equations stacked
on chalkboards
Chalkdust like
Fairydust, only
More magical
(or more profitable)
A cold basement,
A mathematician.
Alone
I’m bored of chalkboards…whiteboards are where its at. You can paint both on your walls these days, so I guess thats cool.
…to each his own.
My chalkboard was dusty and green. Mrs. Johns used to write on it a lot. White, powder clinging to her skirt. A white ring around my arm when she grabbed me.
ooo how people dont like the chalkboard immediately they go for the memory of the sound of when someone scratches their nails on the chalkboard, no fun
There, upon the chalkboard was a single line. That line is what I’ve based my whole life around; so easy to be erased and forgotten but yet so very vital. That line, written in chalk is the only thing I’ve ever known.
shed been writing for over an hour. trying to find that formula that was just write… what was the ratio of gifts to love to romance to work? how could se organize her life in such a way that everything would be perfect? She had been searching for so long.
“Oh, well, what can one say.”
“What do you mean, what can one say? She wrote the it on the chalkboard! It was meant to be read by all, and all were meant to comply!”
The teacher’s chalk stills as she stands before the class.
“Well?” she asks; her voice rises above the murmurs that accompany all first hour classes. “Did anyone actually *do* the homework?”
Only one girl, Bethany Martinovic, raises her hand to volunteer to do the problems on the board.
Chalkboard. Nails scraping on it. Why does everyone hate that sound? Man, I hate it. It’s just kind of odd for a universally horrible noise. Anyway. I remember in fourth grade when cleaning the chalkboard at the end of the day was the greatest classroom chore. I still don’t know why. Maybe there’s something satisfying about making a blank new slate all over again.
I hate the sound it makes when it’s being written on an off angle. When i’m a teacher o hope. I get to write on a dry erase board. Those are much more efficient and easier to write on. I reemever in 4th grade the chalkboard looked sol tall but when I went backto my olds cool, I actually stood taller than it which was actually really weird to look at from another perspective e
Chalkboards bring back the memories of a child. Sitting in the small classrooms at your small desk with the giant chalkboard at the front of the class room. Chalkboards are used to show demonstrations or used make an announcement. I have never seen a chalkboard used outside of a classroom.
Chalkboard reminds me of my schooll days when all the lectures started with titles on the chalkboard. All the knowledge that i accumulated was thanks to the chalkboard. It is a knowledge giver and has a great memory and contribution to each one’s education and life. It has given me so many memories.
writing on a board with chalk, used at school, black and white, dusty and irrating on the skin. memories of school. kids love them, teacher use them.come in different sizes. have been replaced these days by white boards.
She walked up to the chalkboard; nervous, unsure, and unwilling.
She was supposed to write something. What was she supposed to write again?
It was like school again; expected to write something for everyone to see.
Instead of writing, she wanted to draw. Impossible for her, however.
white dust and black words are written for all to read. Only most tune out
Used in classrooms around the world for decades now, the chalkboard has become nearly a standard part of the learning process, as it is used to demonstrate and give a more hands-on approach to teaching the student.
Nails across the chalkboard. Fingers intertwined. Holding a cigarette. People claim that the hands are the most important part of the body, without them, nothing would ever be done.
Maybe that’s the truth. But maybe all we need is you.
How am I supposed to know.
use it when trying to explain stuff, can be just plain sand and the design is optional
Chalk Zone!! Anyone?? Chalkzone? Remember?? That show was good!! Awww, no one remembers Chalk Zone, that sucks. Why am I the only one?
screech…….
Got to love this old chalkboard.
screech…….
reminds me of elementary spelling bee contests. the loser would have to clap the erasers at the end of the day. i never got stuck with that task because i always won. always.
The chalkboard was clean, empty, a fresh slate. It was hard to really know where to start, which area to dirty first. Not wanting to mess up I was hesitant to even begin. I stared blankly, and finally I just put the chalk to the board and let it flow. Suddenly the entire board was filled with color, with chaos. This chaos kept the viewer constantly looking, and this was truly beautiful. There’s only so much to take in with a blank slate.
thehsound of the wonky bit of chalk on the blackboard went through his head and screeched like a Harpie , like a Banshee it was terrible , horrible , awful – I mean I nearly died it was so awful I just didn’t know what to do at all , it really was dreadful . the teacher was such an idiot he just went on blahing about the SEcond World War , well I thouhgt this is torture maybe he knows the Natzis used this torture too . I don’t know its sos awful , so terrible . I was so sick of listening to the teacher he was such a pain, even to look at he was horrible , some of the kids kept screaming luvly ugly , luvly ugly he kept on trying to teach he didn’t get the message he wasn’t eye candy , we didn’t want him anymore , give us a young teacher we didn’t want him , not at all , never again, ever . And believe me we got rid of him , he has no job now and we are happy . We are rich , he is poor , he is old , we don’t care or maybe we do maybe we want him to find a suitable job , teaching is not for him , not at all. Megan sadi he is signing on now at the Labour Exchange , we hate him and we hope he suffers .
i always hated when i was in elementry schoola dn the teachers would write on the walls with chalk, and it would scrrrreeech really loud, ugh!! worst sound ever
There I was, sitting in geometry class, dozing off as usual. I was woken up by an obnoxious scolding from my teacher, and as I sat there, I realized for the first time that my teacher has HUGE tits! I couldn’t help but stare and bask in their glory. She then prompted me to get up and define the terms she had up on the chalkboard. As I began my way to the front of the class, still enthralled by her luscious funbags, I noticed a plethora gasps filling the room. I turned around to see what all the hubbub was about and lo and behold they were all staring at my groin in awe and disgust. I screamed and yelled upon beholding the strange growth in my pants and somehow ended up on top of my teacher with her tatas in my face and my boner near her nether regions. And that’s the closet I ever got to losing my virginity.
the images are erased and melt into a different world where they come alive. the words are transformed into dances in my head. the colors shift to emotions in my heart.
My wall is a chalkboard. It’s covered in things my friends have written, and it reminds me that I’m loved.
It is black in class rooms teachers use it to explain to kids what they are learning. You can draw all sorts of pictures now there is chalkboardpaint that you paint directly on the wall no board actually needed pretty cool. Chris had some in his room. I think it would be cool to paint the wall by my mirror with this so then my friends can draw and leave me cool little notes and such. There are really only white boards now because chalk was messy and wasnt as effective as a white board i
So satisfying, the feel of the chalk as it kisses the board. Click, click, click! I think I became a teacher because I loved writing on the chalkboard and listening to myself talk. I miss the chalkboard. But I still talk to myself.
the csound of nails on it are gross the feeling of chalk on my hands is dry and i dont like it the contract of the colors against the dakr is beautiful it reminds me of scool i dont like the word chalk at all draw
One word that can make the sweetest woman turn cold.
One word that will make you dream things you never thought you could.
One word that will make you laugh.
One word that can change your mind.
Any idea what that word is???
….yeah me neither.
There’s an empty chalkboard staring back at her, begging to be written on. It has scratches on it, from years of previous abuse from teachers and students a like. With a shaky hand, she begins to mark up the board. She’s no longer aware of her environment, of what she’s writing or what time or date it was. She just knew the desire to fill in empty spaces had overpowered her again, and she had responded to it like she always had. When she was done, she couldn’t even understand the phrases written. Everything was all over the place. Everything from the words to the pictures and symbols seemed crammed and incomplete. Nothing seemed to make sense, and even became more confusing when she read it out loud or tried to find a deeper meaning behind it. It became frustrating and overall annoying. She gave up her futile attempt as the bell rang, signaled the end of lunch before heading off to her next class.
Dusty white words temporarily taking it’s place against a solid green background, to somehow inspire others or save others with it’s message, that it’s creator failed to interpret.
i remember in the 4th grade, this teacher of mine would always wipe his back against the chalkboard and walk around with his words on his polo shirt. He had a really shiny head, the kind that people probably wax every morning to gt that way. I won my first speech award in that class..for the writing, not the actual presentation.
Before I die I must —
write here is what is right. Right here is where the writing happens the righting of the world
in–
blood I cut my skin and chalk comes out in clouds of dust