A eulogy for blackboards from my pseudonymous book, 21st Century Dodos.
Where have all the blackboards gone?
Seriously, it is all whiteboards and computer projector screens and marker pens nowadays. No blackboards. No chalk. All very modern.
I can remember two types of blackboard from my school days. One, the most common, was the fixed blackboard at the end of the classroom, next to the teacher’s desk. This was the focal point of all lessons. It was where the spelling list went up, where the sums were displayed, where whole passages were written for us to copy out. There was usually some sort of ledge or shelf that held the chalk and duster. It was like a massive black window.
And then there was the rolling blackboard, the slightly more portable version. Usually on wheels, it was more portrait than landscape, and had a reel of coated material stretched across it so that it could be rolled down as it was used, a bit like a revolving hand towel in a public toilet. It meant the teacher could move on to a fresh, blank area when he or she had used up the space in front of them, but also allowed for a big reveal. The name of a special project, or the answer to a puzzle that the kids had been working on, could be written up and then rolled round to the other side, ready to be pulled down on cue.
The rolling blackboard still had to be cleaned, but it did give you a bit of time with the duster between sessions. It also allowed the pupils to draw a penis or write ‘Mrs Jones is smelly’ while the teacher was out, roll the blackboard down, and then convulse in spasms of anticipation as they waited for it to come round again. Along with the inevitable detention.
Of course, blackboards were rarely actually black. They very quickly became grey, coated as they were with layers of chalk dust. All the blackboard duster did was spread that dust around, really, although it was still a sought-after job for the kids in the class, teachers often handing out the task to the ‘person who is sitting most still and quiet’.
But the best job of all was when you were asked to clean the blackboard with a wet cloth. This opportunity only came round once a week or so, but was the chance to get the blackboard back to its original glory. All traces of chalk were gone and, for a few brief moments, it looked pristine, unblemished. It was a thing of beauty. And then the teacher would start writing on it again.
This, in itself, was quite an art form. Have you ever tried writing with a new piece of chalk on a blackboard? It is bloody difficult, and especially hard to have anything remotely resembling neat handwriting while doing so. I guess this is now a dying art, writing on a whiteboard with a felt-tip is much easier.
As the blackboard vanishes off into the past with a puff of chalk dust, so does the origin of the phrase ‘Like fingernails down a blackboard’. We all know what that means, and some of us will have goosebumps at the very thought, but do our children? And will our children’s children?
Another classic image lost in the march of progress.
Dodo Rating: ****