"Rust, rustle, rustle, rustle..." This is a wordless song written by chalk.

In the classroom, the chalk always dedicates itself silently on the blackboard, and always makes contributions to us with its small body. It has no complaints and exchanges its youth for everyone's wisdom.

When the chalk disappeared piece by piece in front of the blackboard, the last hymn was already waving in my heart. It was so similar to the teacher's life.

I praise chalk because it is broad-minded and never cares about personal gains and losses.

I praise chalk because of its simple appearance and never deliberately modifying itself.

I praise chalk because of its no-regret vows, and the countless "corpses" under the blackboard are the last hymn of its life.

......

Every night, the chalks in the box sleep quietly, and no one feels sad that they will lose themselves tomorrow. They sleep so sweetly, often in In the dream, there were proud laughter and excited sighs...