Carnett: Chalk the changes in school in 1950s up to progress

I was a student when the Newport-Mesa Unified School District unveiled what was considered at the time the grandest advance in classroom technology in decades.

The year was 1954, and I was a fifth-grader at Lindbergh School in Costa Mesa.

NMUSD introduced that year a revolutionary new concept in classroom instruction. It was the equivalent of today’s laptop, iPad, SMART Board and ELMO Document Camera all rolled into one.

What could I be referring to? Yellow chalk.

Yellow … chalk?

Yellow chalk.

And, oh yeah, a special “greenboard” to go along with it instead of the traditional — and hopelessly archaic — blackboard.

In my fourth-grade classroom we were shackled with obsolete technology. The class met in one of two Lindbergh “bungalows,” leftovers from the Santa Ana Army Airbase. Frankly, they looked like structures Grant might have occupied at Spotsylvania.

We had ancient slate blackboards in the drafty old bungalow, and it leaked every time it rained. In fact, we sometimes assumed it was raining when it wasn’t. Little Johnny Whatshisname, a couple of rows from me, would occasionally wet his pants while doing math. It would puddle beneath his desk, and our heads would automatically rotate toward the ceiling to see if we could detect a drip-drip-drip.

“Mrs. Coxen!” Sally, sitting a couple of seats behind Mr. Whatshisname, would bellow at the top of her lungs for the entire class to hear: “Johnny has either done it again or it’s raining.”

Our teacher would quite literally call us out for injudicious emissions of flatulence during quizzes. “All right, who did it?” she’d demand. Intuitively, we knew what she meant. Nary a hand would go up. All eyes remained fixated on the answer sheets on our desks.

Always an awkward moment.

Looking back 60 years, I’d be willing to bet that the foul odor emanated from the structure itself. It had termites and a serious mold problem. But as far as I know, no one ever complained to OSHA.

It was 1953, people!

Mrs. Coxen would write on the blackboard with sticks of pure white chalk — whiter than the famous cliffs of Dover. Her chalk was equally crumbly.

Mrs. Coxen’s arthritic fingers — to a fourth-grader she seemed about 75, but was probably only in her early 50s — would fly over the 15-foot-wide blackboard at the front of the classroom. When she ran out of space, she’d go to another chalkboard that stretched along the classroom’s side wall.

The chalk would frequently break in her fingers. It also sent puffs of dust into the atmosphere and produced a screeching noise against slate that could startle and disquiet even the most indolent learner.

At the end of the day, she’d allow one of us to erase the boards — badly, I might add. We’d cough and wheeze as clouds of chalk dust engulfed us. Despite our best efforts, large white smudges remained on the boards.

Sometimes, we’d be allowed to go into one of the two restrooms at the rear of the classroom and run water into a towel to wipe the blackboards clean. For a brief instant, before the boards were dry, they’d gleam like the shiny goo of a La Brea Tar Pit.

The following year, as a fifth-grader in Mrs. Ballreich’s Lindbergh class, I was introduced to green blackboards and yellow “dustless” chalk. We were told that the yellow chalk wouldn’t irritate asthmatics’ lungs. Like any of us had even considered that possibility. The yellow chalk was also supposed to be easier to read on a green board than white chalk on a blackboard.

I beg to differ with that.

Personally, I thought white chalk on a blackboard was infinitely superior, especially for a person seated in the last row — which is where I spent most of my time. Come to think of it, I’ve never been one to easily accept technological change.

I’m still convinced that a real blackboard is better than any green board, white board or computer screen.

And chalk — white puffs or no — should look like chalk!

JIM CARNETT, who lives in Costa Mesa, worked for Orange Coast College for 37 years.