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Updated: June 28, 2025
Year after year, and morning after morning, he was to be found at his school-room in the Fairies' College, standing between his desk and a blackboard, now writing down the spell for turning noses into turnips, now changing sunflower seeds into pearls before the very eyes of his pupils.
"But do you suppose our friend the Flighty Hun won't have a peep at us to-morrow morning to see where those shells landed? If he does, or if he takes a photograph, those holes will show up like a chalk-mark on a blackboard; then he has only to tell his gun to step this way a couple of hundred yards and we get it in the neck. I'm inclined to think we'd better up anchor and away."
I'm game to donate a couple of steers toward a schoolhouse a regular schoolhouse, with the Stars and Stripes on the front end, and a bench behind the door for the water bucket, and a blackboard up in front, and a woodshed behind with a door into it so the schoolmarm needn't put on her overshoes and mittens every time she tells one of the Swedes to put a stick of wood in the stove.
Accordingly, the pupils have exhibited more complex curves in their spines than they could possibly portray on the blackboard, and acquired such discords in their nervous systems as would have utterly disgraced their singing. It is something to have got beyond the period when active sports were actually prohibited.
The lads were never tired of alluding to No. 11, giving shrill whistles in his ear, asking if his watch was right, and drawing locomotives on the blackboard whenever they got a chance. The girls, too, had sly nods and smiles, hints and jokes of a milder sort, which made him color and fume, and once lose his dignity entirely.
Vaguely he pictured her work that night, her class-room packed to bursting with small Jews and Italians, and Deborah at the blackboard with a long pointer in her hand. The fact that for the last two years she had been the principal of her school had made little impression upon him.
He was a tall, thin man, and he had a point of beard on his chin that made him look taller. He wore a blue cape, which he tossed on a chair. And he carried a violin. His name was Mr. Cato. He drew five lines on the blackboard, and made eight dots that looked as though they were going upstairs on the lines. Then he rapped on his violin with his bow, and the class sat up straight. "This," said Mr.
I can put two and two together and make four, without having the example done for me on a blackboard. You're a rich man's son; you've been used to sassiety and city ways and good clothes. YOU wantin' to put in your days and nights in a forsaken hole like this! Nonsense! Get out!" But Mr. Brown refused to get out. "No nonsense about it," he declared. "It is the hand of Fate.
This was the idea of the majority; but I do not deny that there was a small minority which professed no interest and promised no virtue. Our four walls contained a miniature world, a world with its best foot forward, too, but it was not heaven. At quarter past two I went into Helen's little room, where she was drawing exquisite illustrations on a blackboard for next day's "morning talk."
Agassiz was with me about two years as lecturer in Natural History. His skill in drawing upon the blackboard while he went on with his oral explanation was a constant marvel. He was not a miser in matter of knowledge more than in money. Of his vast stores of knowledge he gave freely to all. Any member of a class could get from him all that he knew upon any topic in his department.
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