I currently reside in Class 5, Section B. I have been here ever since I can remember, but the notice board told me I came in when a child broke my predecessor while playing a game of cricket in class.
To clarify, though I am called a ‘black’ board, I am actually green. That’s because in 1815, when I was christened ‘blackboard’, I was made of slate, which was black.
Students originally had their own personalised slates, until one fine day sometime in the very early 1800s the Scottish headmaster, James Pillans wanted his students to draw maps, but their small boards weren’t big enough. So he put all the boards together and drew the map
This became popular as now, the whole class could refer to a concept at the same time.
Boosted by this fact and coming at a time that was towards the end of the First Industrial Revolution, by 1840, manufacturers were piling money into their pockets by shipping large pieces of slate to American and European schools.
Since British education began in 1820 in India, most likely someone way down your bloodline was at some time in history staring at a blackboard that was actually black.
We remained black for more than a hundred years, until sometime in the 1960s, the slate was replaced by steel plates coated with green porcelain-based enamel. These were lighter and stronger and therefore easier to transport. Teachers liked us in our green avatar, too. We were easier to get chalk off and were easier on the eyes. Some tried to call us ‘chalkboard’, but like a nickname that stuck, we were still called blackboard then as we are today.
Every morning I wait eagerly for the pleasant massage on my surface. I cannot decide if I like the feeling of chalk or the duster more, but it is what I live for. One thing I cannot stand, is if someone writes something down and doesn’t erase it. It is like an itch that I cannot scratch! Most teachers are respectful and use the chalk on me with even, firm strokes. Usually, the duster massage is a little less fun because it is done by a student who isn’t tall enough and has to work hard at my upper extremities. Another pet peeve for me is when students use the blackboard to write rude words on me and then rub them off and giggle, like as if they have just told me a secret. I don’t like having to keep such information to myself!
I am usually the last one to gossip, but I keep hearing whispers in the hall about this new thing called Smartboard. Apparently schools are using them instead of blackboards now. They are white and glow, and don’t need a chalk or duster. Sounds like magic or witchcraft to me. I am sure this is just a nasty rumour, but every day I grow more anxious.
The notice board is telling me to count my blessings-“at least you don’t have pins stuck into you and paper flapping around your face,” he says.
Well, here comes the teacher...
- By Poonam Vaidya, Copy - Editor
Meghshala