This word reminds me of my Childhood .. Our teachers use to teach us on this and how we use to spne out time fighting with the pieces of Chalk which were left after the class . It was fun ..
The lesson of the day is the lesson that we learn. The chalk can make smooth patterns and jagged edges, and it is the tool of old school teachers. No other teach can teach with a board, or just any board. No, it must be a chalk board. The chalkboard is the haven of excellence and of patience. Of genuine curiosity and learning. Education. The symbol of a good education. Chalkboard.
black and screeching sounds run through my mind at the time i sit in a desk with a teacher dictating the rest. old times maybe when i was elementary not a lot of bad things just kind of lost things faded things that would be nice to see again, good times and horrifying ones.
my mother walked to the chalkboard and left me a note when i was away, “i love you,” it read. and each day i would come home from college, i would see it and remember my childhood with that same chalkboard.
The menacing professor stared hawk-eyed at her students, who promptly flattened themselves to their desks. Chalk screeched and pencils scurried across the pages like frightened mice. They couldn’t take it any longer.
They had to devise an escape plan.
I am a teacher and I don’t use a chalkboard anymore. We use whiteboards which is a goood thing because I am allergic to chalkdust. when I started teaching we would put the chalk into a silver metal holder. That was a very handy invention. The students in my class have to bring a white board marker to use on their individual whiteboards.This is mmore costly than chalk.
Chalkboards make me think of school. Honestly, I feel like they make everyone think of school. I always used to love stealing the chalk with the other kids and drawing on the board when the teacher wasn’t in the room. We’d doodle and cover the entire board (at least, the parts we were tall enough to reach) with crazy drawings that only kids can come up with. :)
She refused to use the chalkboard. I grabbed it from her wizened, clawlike hands and clacked the chalk against it madly, “Instead of getting angry because you can’t hear what people say to you, GIVE IN AND USE THIS CHALKBOARD!!!” Even before I finished writing I could feel her turning her white, shriveled head away. I sighed, erased the board, and patted her knee. She let me keep my hand there and turned her head back, but only to stare straight ahead. And thus we sat in reconciliation.
school it was our homecomming theme for sophmore year! everyone has to do a lip sync to songs and foronce we beat the seniors who have one every year even when they were freshman and we one as sophomores
A LONG TIME AGO, TEACHERS USED TO USE CHALKBOARDS TO TEACH THEIR STUDENTS. THE STUDENTS HATED THE CHALKBOARDS. THE SQUEAK OF THE CHALK, THE BLOODCURDLING SCREECH OF A NAIL ON A BOARD. IT WAS HELL TO SIT THERE AND LISTEN TO THE TEACHER, DAY AFTER DAY, HOUR AFTER HOUR…THATS WHY NOW WE HAVE SMART BOARDS.
Stalks and rocks collide and ride down the blue hills of adventures. It is almost too good to be true and almost as soft as a tissue, don’t forget to just blow your nose. Hawks, run run away.
I love chalkboards now for the creative way they can be used. Especially for writing scripture and quotes as Ms. Diane does. However, I remember the days when I had chalkboards as huge as your wall in school. Especially in 3rd and 4th grade as those were the two years I was in the old Boswell High School that your papa Ish attended. Mrs. Weigand was my fourth grade teacher and she had beautiful handwriting. Mrs. Ballard in third grade I don’t remember so much.
the teacher sat at her desk marking papers as the students finished their assignments. it was interesting to her that they were so quiet today. Being a friday, her class was normally extremely disruptive by this time of the afternoon and most of her assignments were shot out the window the second they stepped in class
The teacher, a little bored after years of career, is writing on the chalkboard. The children are mesmerized by the maths, history and english… John, the youngest and brightest, constantly asks questions…
I remember in kindergarten.
My name was written on the chalkboard once.
for running around and playing
what’s a kid supposed to do?
I’ll always remember that day
When a kid being a kid was wrong.
ideas flow out on the board without any more thought and the students all absorb the content. more and more we are losing this means of communication as the electronics in our life take over and make learning a different way all together. hasn’t it been a minute yet? wow, this is taking a long time. chalkboards also make a horrible noise when you scrap your nails on them. have you ever tried that? I’m sure it’s been more than a minute now.
The soft reminants of the gritty white powder still lingers upon the wall; the day has ended, the lectures have been erased, evaporated for the next morining of questions and quarries.
When I was a kid I hated chalk boards. I always worried that when I grew up and became a teacher (like I always dreamed of), I’d also end up with chalk on my bottom or smugged on my cheek like my teachers did. But then white-boards were invented. Ahhh the smell of the markers. The ease with which the eraser would glide across the board. Now I look forward to becoming a teacher, but on one condition: whiteboards. All the way.
The letters forming on the board were utterly pointless. My parents careers proved that. What good was learning the history of Britain when all it has one is hold us down. Force us to work the 9 to 5 and stifle creativity. No, this would not do. I could achieve more.
chalkboard is the place where we learnt to read and write . its the starting point of learning for all . the white chalk and the black board are a thing of the past though.
the chalkboard was dead. green and dead. and the sounds his nails made on it were the only living thing in the world. the magical ability for chalk to create lines on its smooth surface were of an endless fascination to him, and he wanted to stay in the empty place forever. Dead is not bad.
I stare at the chalkboard. There it is. An old piece of chalk. The smell of a white flower. The blue sky. A cup of tea with faint, soft fragrance. I stare at the chalkboard and it breaks into a thousand pieces.
The chalkboard was clean except for the date and her name. She was wearing new shoes and red lips, but i wasn’t going to call her teacher. I didn’t want to be here and it was obvious.
thsi is a broad on which you write, well a typical teacher write with a chalk. chlak could be of many different colours, especially handy with complex diagrams and young kids. how much time is left?? my friend left yesterdya and i dont feel so good. everyone is leaving this place and it will never be the same ever again
This word reminds me of my Childhood .. Our teachers use to teach us on this and how we use to spne out time fighting with the pieces of Chalk which were left after the class . It was fun ..
The chalkbord can be simple or complicated. green or black. dusty or wiped clean. theres so many different images that a chalkbaord can portray.
you write on it with chalk; it is used in schools; it’s made of a stone: i have some at home; it’s black or green.
The lesson of the day is the lesson that we learn. The chalk can make smooth patterns and jagged edges, and it is the tool of old school teachers. No other teach can teach with a board, or just any board. No, it must be a chalk board. The chalkboard is the haven of excellence and of patience. Of genuine curiosity and learning. Education. The symbol of a good education. Chalkboard.
black and screeching sounds run through my mind at the time i sit in a desk with a teacher dictating the rest. old times maybe when i was elementary not a lot of bad things just kind of lost things faded things that would be nice to see again, good times and horrifying ones.
my mother walked to the chalkboard and left me a note when i was away, “i love you,” it read. and each day i would come home from college, i would see it and remember my childhood with that same chalkboard.
The medium through which wisdom is passed to young little minds eager to know how this world works. Simple yet so amazingly significant!
The menacing professor stared hawk-eyed at her students, who promptly flattened themselves to their desks. Chalk screeched and pencils scurried across the pages like frightened mice. They couldn’t take it any longer.
They had to devise an escape plan.
I am a teacher and I don’t use a chalkboard anymore. We use whiteboards which is a goood thing because I am allergic to chalkdust. when I started teaching we would put the chalk into a silver metal holder. That was a very handy invention. The students in my class have to bring a white board marker to use on their individual whiteboards.This is mmore costly than chalk.
Chalkboards make me think of school. Honestly, I feel like they make everyone think of school. I always used to love stealing the chalk with the other kids and drawing on the board when the teacher wasn’t in the room. We’d doodle and cover the entire board (at least, the parts we were tall enough to reach) with crazy drawings that only kids can come up with. :)
She refused to use the chalkboard. I grabbed it from her wizened, clawlike hands and clacked the chalk against it madly, “Instead of getting angry because you can’t hear what people say to you, GIVE IN AND USE THIS CHALKBOARD!!!” Even before I finished writing I could feel her turning her white, shriveled head away. I sighed, erased the board, and patted her knee. She let me keep my hand there and turned her head back, but only to stare straight ahead. And thus we sat in reconciliation.
school it was our homecomming theme for sophmore year! everyone has to do a lip sync to songs and foronce we beat the seniors who have one every year even when they were freshman and we one as sophomores
A LONG TIME AGO, TEACHERS USED TO USE CHALKBOARDS TO TEACH THEIR STUDENTS. THE STUDENTS HATED THE CHALKBOARDS. THE SQUEAK OF THE CHALK, THE BLOODCURDLING SCREECH OF A NAIL ON A BOARD. IT WAS HELL TO SIT THERE AND LISTEN TO THE TEACHER, DAY AFTER DAY, HOUR AFTER HOUR…THATS WHY NOW WE HAVE SMART BOARDS.
Stalks and rocks collide and ride down the blue hills of adventures. It is almost too good to be true and almost as soft as a tissue, don’t forget to just blow your nose. Hawks, run run away.
I love chalkboards now for the creative way they can be used. Especially for writing scripture and quotes as Ms. Diane does. However, I remember the days when I had chalkboards as huge as your wall in school. Especially in 3rd and 4th grade as those were the two years I was in the old Boswell High School that your papa Ish attended. Mrs. Weigand was my fourth grade teacher and she had beautiful handwriting. Mrs. Ballard in third grade I don’t remember so much.
the teacher sat at her desk marking papers as the students finished their assignments. it was interesting to her that they were so quiet today. Being a friday, her class was normally extremely disruptive by this time of the afternoon and most of her assignments were shot out the window the second they stepped in class
Awating dawn to start over again
Etching down images ready to begin
A line, a circle, three little dots-
A smiley face has appeared.
Eraser brushes across the board
And a new creature has been born-
Into a life, bold and new,
Dear smiley face- chalk world
Awaits you.
The teacher, a little bored after years of career, is writing on the chalkboard. The children are mesmerized by the maths, history and english… John, the youngest and brightest, constantly asks questions…
I remember in kindergarten.
My name was written on the chalkboard once.
for running around and playing
what’s a kid supposed to do?
I’ll always remember that day
When a kid being a kid was wrong.
ideas flow out on the board without any more thought and the students all absorb the content. more and more we are losing this means of communication as the electronics in our life take over and make learning a different way all together. hasn’t it been a minute yet? wow, this is taking a long time. chalkboards also make a horrible noise when you scrap your nails on them. have you ever tried that? I’m sure it’s been more than a minute now.
The soft reminants of the gritty white powder still lingers upon the wall; the day has ended, the lectures have been erased, evaporated for the next morining of questions and quarries.
chalk screeching on the board.
shivers up my spine.
hairs erect.
blood chills.
silence.
sweet silence.
When I was a kid I hated chalk boards. I always worried that when I grew up and became a teacher (like I always dreamed of), I’d also end up with chalk on my bottom or smugged on my cheek like my teachers did. But then white-boards were invented. Ahhh the smell of the markers. The ease with which the eraser would glide across the board. Now I look forward to becoming a teacher, but on one condition: whiteboards. All the way.
The letters forming on the board were utterly pointless. My parents careers proved that. What good was learning the history of Britain when all it has one is hold us down. Force us to work the 9 to 5 and stifle creativity. No, this would not do. I could achieve more.
I’ve transferred my grief for her onto a chalkboard where I peruse it and lose; gain it and erase it.
chalkboard is the place where we learnt to read and write . its the starting point of learning for all . the white chalk and the black board are a thing of the past though.
My teacher have a chalkborad on the hand, but I don’t know what is a chalkborad, however I am writing about it.
writing, school, lessons, brainstorm, yellow chalk, pink chalk, teachers, temporary, dusty, chalky, crayola chalks, old times, school times
the chalkboard was dead. green and dead. and the sounds his nails made on it were the only living thing in the world. the magical ability for chalk to create lines on its smooth surface were of an endless fascination to him, and he wanted to stay in the empty place forever. Dead is not bad.
I stare at the chalkboard. There it is. An old piece of chalk. The smell of a white flower. The blue sky. A cup of tea with faint, soft fragrance. I stare at the chalkboard and it breaks into a thousand pieces.
The chalkboard was clean except for the date and her name. She was wearing new shoes and red lips, but i wasn’t going to call her teacher. I didn’t want to be here and it was obvious.
thsi is a broad on which you write, well a typical teacher write with a chalk. chlak could be of many different colours, especially handy with complex diagrams and young kids. how much time is left?? my friend left yesterdya and i dont feel so good. everyone is leaving this place and it will never be the same ever again