Chalkboard in my school with the teacher, she has a steam machine for the charlkboard, kindergarden, old tool, miss it, sound of nails on chalkboard and choking with presentations all the time socially insecure
I stare at the long and big black chalkboard. Chalk pieces are scattered about the tray that comes out on the bottom of the board. My hand grasps one of the pasty white sticks. I raise my arm, and in one fluent movement, I write my
I can still remember the skritch-scratch noise the chalk made on my highschool’s math class chalkboard. It’s like the sound’s permanently ingrained itself into my very soul.
Well, not exactly. Maybe I’m exaggerating. A little.
She wrote four big letters on the chalkboard: H-A-T-E.
The assignment was to write about anything at all that came to mind, atleast a page and a half, due two days later. But a word so misused, how can you expect anyone to write about true hatred?
We don’t use chalkboards in schools anymore, we use white boards. Whenever I see a chalkboard I just think about a cat stractching it ahh. I like white boards more than chalk boards because, 1. They are easier to write on. 2. Cats cant screetch down them. 3. They are easily rubbed off and wiped
The marks of last year still have yet to fade as I run my hand across the old black board that has been with this class through everything. No one can tell you what it has seen, the wonders it has taken part in, but one thing is for sure, it will be here for another year and it will see another year of us.
and so it happened, i entered that lonely building i knew so well. I saw it, that old chalkboard were i used to lern and all the sudden my mind came blind and i saw you, as we used to be together and I saw how as a kid erased it our love slipped away.
empty space, thoughts, ideas emotions, school room. erase and start again. black board. ABC’s and 123’s learning is fun, it could be fun if you want it to !
the chalkboard had faces. they were frowning, screaming, angry faces. the classroom was empty. All the children had gone. Outside the windows the sun was setting. THe tress were still.
My head was throbbing from all the yelling I’d just been doing. Why? Because of the pain. The pain of losing the one thing in my life that meant that I was complete, more than complete, that I was synergistically beyond all the trivia in this world. Him. My love. Like fingernails scraping down a chalkboard my head was wailing and jolting with the agony of losing my one true love. So I curled up, held my knees to my chest, and lay there, allowing the devastation to overwhelm me.
I have never had a class with a traditional chalkboard, oh wait ya i have haha. I had one probably up to 3rd grade. The teacher used to pick who got to dust the erasers after class and I remember we would fight over it all of the time. What such good days.. I loved drawing and writing on the chalkboard just because it was so big and you could draw or write anything.
they’re in schools. i hate the sound of fingernails on a chalkboard. i have a lot of memories of being in grade school and having to go to the board as a mandatory participation grade. once i went up there with my skirt caught in the back of my tights. totally embarrassing. that’s why i never liked being forced to go to the board. i figured something like that would happen to me.
Chalkboards are made out of slate which is a metamorphic form of rock formerly called shale. Its composition has changed due to the immense stress, heat, and pressure forced upon it by the Earth’s geological activity. See…? I learn stuff in Geography class. Really…
it is an object that we use in class with a chalk. we can do anything on it, and it’s an easy way to teach. it is green, i guess, and yeah…… not really good at that! but it’s a good way to teach :] AND we can write anything on it with any colors of chalk.
black and smeared with white, i stared at it till i was going to seriously die. My friends rises from her chair and hands me a paper before she goes by. The answer to the question on the old chalkboard. And i ran forward and before i could think about it, i ran into the old black smeared with white chalkboard.
Black, white on black. chalk powder drifting in the air as the board is cleaned. Teacher standing at the board, trying to get students to understand things. This isn’t happening, so a game of hangman starts. The crowd of kids is excitedly playing along, getting to know each other.
Screech. Click. Clack.
Lessons scream like nails on a chalkboard.
Plans and intricate formulas etched in our minds.
Teaching from a chalkboard is more effective than teaching from a whiteboard.
I find it ironic that one of the most-used teaching utilities is completely bland. Learning should be exciting, shouldn’t it? When I was five years old, the last thing I’d want to do is stare at an all-black board with some white scribbles.
When I hear the word chalkboard, I think of that terrifying sound of nails scratching up and down a chalkboard. To me, that’s one of the most unpleasant sounds in the world to hear. I just can’t stand it.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not sta
School. Ideas. Being young. Remember. Wondering why I am writing anything here at all. Black, or rather really dark green. White, or just barley yellow. Scratching one is awful.
I hate it when nails scratch chalkboards. The sound is terrible. It enters the ear canal, vibrates along the nervous system, then a tingle leaps up the spine. And it’s one I don’t wish on my children when they reach school age. I’ve encountered it once: Jeff Person was sitting in behind me, laughing and talking with a buddy, and our substitute teacher, Ms. Horn, resorted to the tactic. The entire class flinched.
black and green… white streaks lining the chalk dust creeping down the side of the surface… thoughts pourting out onto the darkness, and thoughts lost in the dust of the chalk screening down the side of the board.
Who uses chalkboard nowadays? I actually do not like chalkboards, for I do not like chalks. i think i am allergic to them. I have these white spots on my face that I believe are products of chalk exposure. Thinking about it now, however, I don’t think I have much evidence to that.
There were two words on the chalk board: Cellar Door. He said that of all the endless combinations of words in the English language, no two sounded as beautiful as Cellar Door.
The chalk screeched it’s way down the chalkboard, emitting a noise that sounded like nails being dragged. A powdery white was left behind, marking the way of the chalk on the black board. “Stop!” cried the headmaster.
The chalk screeched it’s way down the chalkboard, emitting a noise that sounded like nails being dragged. A powdery white was left behind, marking the way of the chalk on the black board.
The chalkboard is clean as ever. Green, smooth, not a single mark on its surface. Just once, I’d want to see the nice, white lines covering its surface. Math, a teacher’s name, anything. Just to break up the monotony. But there’s nothing.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not sta
When I close my eyes I picture a chalkboard. Covered in dust that never leaves, beautiful yet saddening all at once. I remembered the chalkboard from first grade, and the different color chalk my teacher would use. Purple was her favorite.
Your words were like nails scratching on a chalkboard. They had that ear piercing sound that makes you cringe in disgust. That cringe that tries to block out the sound but is ultimately useless. And just like that cringe my body tried to escape your words, my ears tried to block them out so I could only hear the murmur of your voice. But it didn’t work, and as much as I tried your words just kept getting louder and louder until my heart had your nails etched into it. All I could think about was the chalkboard.
shill sher, locked eyes & miri mi-time of down… lunar boots the call der tied wish I was loaned through the pleasant oily rope. Won’t you fix that magnum greatness, whom follow the zeiten eyed `rising land liebe by T-trus… though my ducky misses the misty secret fri ~°\ fallen leather ak know… edge I -fought ;)
Chalk is gross. It makes a dreadful noise. It would be gross to eat. If you crush it up it could pass as coke. I hate school. Chalk and school go hand in hand I feel. Or chalk and seagullls. For some reason. Hm. Mine!
It was a chalkboard that made me cry. It was green and also grey. The way the chalkboard never stopped being dusty; it was just there. Poor chalkboard. No one ever cleaned it and it never got a chance to shine.
reminds me of school and teachers…colorful chalks are better for expressing the thoughts.
The fleeting kiss of white on black,
A (fairy) dusty memory.
Ah. Simple times.
Chalkboard in my school with the teacher, she has a steam machine for the charlkboard, kindergarden, old tool, miss it, sound of nails on chalkboard and choking with presentations all the time socially insecure
I stare at the long and big black chalkboard. Chalk pieces are scattered about the tray that comes out on the bottom of the board. My hand grasps one of the pasty white sticks. I raise my arm, and in one fluent movement, I write my
I can still remember the skritch-scratch noise the chalk made on my highschool’s math class chalkboard. It’s like the sound’s permanently ingrained itself into my very soul.
Well, not exactly. Maybe I’m exaggerating. A little.
She wrote four big letters on the chalkboard: H-A-T-E.
The assignment was to write about anything at all that came to mind, atleast a page and a half, due two days later. But a word so misused, how can you expect anyone to write about true hatred?
teacher looks at the student and says
chalkboards they help idiots like you give idiots like me a job
the dog barks at the cat
the cat doesnt like it
We don’t use chalkboards in schools anymore, we use white boards. Whenever I see a chalkboard I just think about a cat stractching it ahh. I like white boards more than chalk boards because, 1. They are easier to write on. 2. Cats cant screetch down them. 3. They are easily rubbed off and wiped
The marks of last year still have yet to fade as I run my hand across the old black board that has been with this class through everything. No one can tell you what it has seen, the wonders it has taken part in, but one thing is for sure, it will be here for another year and it will see another year of us.
and so it happened, i entered that lonely building i knew so well. I saw it, that old chalkboard were i used to lern and all the sudden my mind came blind and i saw you, as we used to be together and I saw how as a kid erased it our love slipped away.
empty space, thoughts, ideas emotions, school room. erase and start again. black board. ABC’s and 123’s learning is fun, it could be fun if you want it to !
the chalkboard had faces. they were frowning, screaming, angry faces. the classroom was empty. All the children had gone. Outside the windows the sun was setting. THe tress were still.
My head was throbbing from all the yelling I’d just been doing. Why? Because of the pain. The pain of losing the one thing in my life that meant that I was complete, more than complete, that I was synergistically beyond all the trivia in this world. Him. My love. Like fingernails scraping down a chalkboard my head was wailing and jolting with the agony of losing my one true love. So I curled up, held my knees to my chest, and lay there, allowing the devastation to overwhelm me.
school teacher chalk friends board white homework save green write eraser black skateboard
A cliche used in the simpsons a lot.
Basically an classic sign of education and other stuff.
Not always easy to write on.
I have never had a class with a traditional chalkboard, oh wait ya i have haha. I had one probably up to 3rd grade. The teacher used to pick who got to dust the erasers after class and I remember we would fight over it all of the time. What such good days.. I loved drawing and writing on the chalkboard just because it was so big and you could draw or write anything.
they’re in schools. i hate the sound of fingernails on a chalkboard. i have a lot of memories of being in grade school and having to go to the board as a mandatory participation grade. once i went up there with my skirt caught in the back of my tights. totally embarrassing. that’s why i never liked being forced to go to the board. i figured something like that would happen to me.
Chalkboards are made out of slate which is a metamorphic form of rock formerly called shale. Its composition has changed due to the immense stress, heat, and pressure forced upon it by the Earth’s geological activity. See…? I learn stuff in Geography class. Really…
it is an object that we use in class with a chalk. we can do anything on it, and it’s an easy way to teach. it is green, i guess, and yeah…… not really good at that! but it’s a good way to teach :] AND we can write anything on it with any colors of chalk.
black and smeared with white, i stared at it till i was going to seriously die. My friends rises from her chair and hands me a paper before she goes by. The answer to the question on the old chalkboard. And i ran forward and before i could think about it, i ran into the old black smeared with white chalkboard.
Black, white on black. chalk powder drifting in the air as the board is cleaned. Teacher standing at the board, trying to get students to understand things. This isn’t happening, so a game of hangman starts. The crowd of kids is excitedly playing along, getting to know each other.
Screech. Click. Clack.
Lessons scream like nails on a chalkboard.
Plans and intricate formulas etched in our minds.
Teaching from a chalkboard is more effective than teaching from a whiteboard.
I find it ironic that one of the most-used teaching utilities is completely bland. Learning should be exciting, shouldn’t it? When I was five years old, the last thing I’d want to do is stare at an all-black board with some white scribbles.
dark green. black. fingernails. waiting for ideas. open lessons. pain. Learning from a perspective, teaching how to grow. dust inhaled, punishing.
When I hear the word chalkboard, I think of that terrifying sound of nails scratching up and down a chalkboard. To me, that’s one of the most unpleasant sounds in the world to hear. I just can’t stand it.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not sta
School. Ideas. Being young. Remember. Wondering why I am writing anything here at all. Black, or rather really dark green. White, or just barley yellow. Scratching one is awful.
I hate it when nails scratch chalkboards. The sound is terrible. It enters the ear canal, vibrates along the nervous system, then a tingle leaps up the spine. And it’s one I don’t wish on my children when they reach school age. I’ve encountered it once: Jeff Person was sitting in behind me, laughing and talking with a buddy, and our substitute teacher, Ms. Horn, resorted to the tactic. The entire class flinched.
black and green… white streaks lining the chalk dust creeping down the side of the surface… thoughts pourting out onto the darkness, and thoughts lost in the dust of the chalk screening down the side of the board.
Who uses chalkboard nowadays? I actually do not like chalkboards, for I do not like chalks. i think i am allergic to them. I have these white spots on my face that I believe are products of chalk exposure. Thinking about it now, however, I don’t think I have much evidence to that.
There were two words on the chalk board: Cellar Door. He said that of all the endless combinations of words in the English language, no two sounded as beautiful as Cellar Door.
The chalk screeched it’s way down the chalkboard, emitting a noise that sounded like nails being dragged. A powdery white was left behind, marking the way of the chalk on the black board. “Stop!” cried the headmaster.
The chalk screeched it’s way down the chalkboard, emitting a noise that sounded like nails being dragged. A powdery white was left behind, marking the way of the chalk on the black board.
The chalkboard is clean as ever. Green, smooth, not a single mark on its surface. Just once, I’d want to see the nice, white lines covering its surface. Math, a teacher’s name, anything. Just to break up the monotony. But there’s nothing.
Just green.
Blank.
All day.
All day.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not stand out from the crowd.
I will not sta
When I close my eyes I picture a chalkboard. Covered in dust that never leaves, beautiful yet saddening all at once. I remembered the chalkboard from first grade, and the different color chalk my teacher would use. Purple was her favorite.
Your words were like nails scratching on a chalkboard. They had that ear piercing sound that makes you cringe in disgust. That cringe that tries to block out the sound but is ultimately useless. And just like that cringe my body tried to escape your words, my ears tried to block them out so I could only hear the murmur of your voice. But it didn’t work, and as much as I tried your words just kept getting louder and louder until my heart had your nails etched into it. All I could think about was the chalkboard.
shill sher, locked eyes & miri mi-time of down… lunar boots the call der tied wish I was loaned through the pleasant oily rope. Won’t you fix that magnum greatness, whom follow the zeiten eyed `rising land liebe by T-trus… though my ducky misses the misty secret fri ~°\ fallen leather ak know… edge I -fought ;)
Chalk is gross. It makes a dreadful noise. It would be gross to eat. If you crush it up it could pass as coke. I hate school. Chalk and school go hand in hand I feel. Or chalk and seagullls. For some reason. Hm. Mine!
It was a chalkboard that made me cry. It was green and also grey. The way the chalkboard never stopped being dusty; it was just there. Poor chalkboard. No one ever cleaned it and it never got a chance to shine.