The stories that only a blackboard can tell

What a soppy way to start my story! I can hear Mrs. Hugh saying, Did I not tell you to think outside the box? La… la… la!

Dammit, class! Keep quiet!

Oh no! The tone that Mr. Brent, the math teacher, uses will also not go down. Maths! I still do not understand why letters must be used in math. It should be numbers only. Just yesterday, I could not help but wonder who was more confused, me or little Willy.

That still doesn’t tell me how I should start my story.

It is the blackboards in the classrooms that hold the secret of storytelling within them.

Wow! This is just the start I was looking for.

Have you ever thought about the blackboards in your classrooms? Do you know the secret powers they have to tell a story?

It is at night, when there is no one in the classroom and only the lights of the moon and the stars shine through the windows, that our stories come alive. It is then that we share the innumerable lessons that get scrawled in chalk on us just to be wiped off again. Often, washed off!

It is also then that we share with our audiences, the desks and chairs, the joy we’ve witnessed when there are victorious faces when those test papers are handed out. Oh, gosh, it is often also the opposite, disappointing faces like that of Brian.
Take today. What a giggle I had when I saw him starting to warm up his backside. He knew all too well what was waiting for him.
(Chuckle) I know I should not be laughing, but it was so funny.

Am I telling a story, or am I telling stories? Who cares? All of us tell stories at some other time in our lives. Or are you like one of those “goodie” girls that always fills the front seats of the classroom? Those pains in the… neck? Never late for class, homework is always done, not to mention first raising their hands when a question is asked. Not my type.

I would rather rub shoulders with Suzie, with her beautiful red hair and blue eyes. I know exactly what she is doing when she rests her head on her palms. These humans have a beautiful word for it: daydreaming. That is exactly what Suzie is doing, dreaming of unicorns and dragons, castles with secret chambers, and princes on white horses.

While we are with the learners, there is something that bothers me. This thing about girls being from Venus and boys being from Mars. Oh my word! Now I cannot remember; should it be the other way around?

Anyway, let me tell you that in his classroom, there is no difference in the manner in which these boys and girls experience first love. Believe me, I don’t miss those secret messages that get passed from desk to desk. Those shy looks and red ears.
The love from the front is beautiful.

Let me not forget those who are always sitting in the back row. Umh, always boys! I think that in my 40+ years in this classroom, not once did a girl voluntarily sit in the back row. Nope. I cannot get to those chairs, but I am convinced “reserved for boys” is written on them. I have a name for these boys. They are the Dennises of the class. Always up to some sort of mischief.

If ONLY I could tell Mrs. Hugh who it was who wrote on me,

I wonder who I will be sharing the classroom with next term. Will it be maps of the world, the history of Bartolomeu Dias, or that new sex education, “Informed children make better decisions.”
Yes, that subject left Mary’s mother red under the collar with the last parents' evening.

I can see the first light of dawn beginning to creep through the windows. It is time for me to close my storybook. Time to start a new one while I patiently wait for the night to come so that I can share again. But, that forever "but," is also in my story.
But, I know that teaching is not the alpha and omega. It is me sharing my stories that will live on in the hearts and minds of these darn chairs and tables forever and ever.

If you want to give voice to the silent click here