Snap it. Drop it. Pull it from Drive.
A blurry whiteboard photo, the 87 slide deck, the PDF your teacher posted at 11:52pm. Chomp reads all of it, handwriting included, and hands you a study pack in about a minute.

Don't lift a finger. Your homework is already headed for his mouth.
Seven screens, one very full apple. Here's what happens to your notes after he eats them.
A blurry whiteboard photo, the 87 slide deck, the PDF your teacher posted at 11:52pm. Chomp reads all of it, handwriting included, and hands you a study pack in about a minute.

A summary that reads like notes from the smartest kid in class, the key terms, a guide sorted the way you actually revise, and the traps your teacher is quietly setting.

Spaced repetition runs the schedule. The easy ones vanish for a week. The ones you keep missing come back tomorrow, right before they slip out of your head.

Every question tells you why the answer is right and how likely it is to show up on the real thing. If it says high, study it twice.

Rain on the window, café noise or a low hum that keeps playing with your ringer off. Every minute you finish counts toward your streak and your spot on the leaderboard.

Pick an exam, invite the group chat, and the leaderboard counts real study minutes, not vibes. Whoever studies most before test day takes the 300 crumb pot.

Crumbs only come from actual studying, so every beanie means something. The ember crown takes five arena wins. Nobody you know has it yet.

Free to start. Built for students. He never trains on your notes.