Addicted to Chess

My parents were not interested in what unique gifts my siblings and I brought to the world. It was a different time. They were interested in what your responsibility was as a parent. What SHOULD you teach your child, to be a cultured, healthy, well-rounded, smart, socially acceptable person. I guess that included table manners, learning a sport you could do for the rest of your life, reading a lot--of the right things, taking piano lessons and playing an instrument. It was a recipe for creating a good person, and looking back, I am grateful. I think everyone should learn a sport, music, to love to read, to be good at math. But I did not feel seen. I did not feel like my parents were searching for each of our individual talents, and then trying to cultivate them. Educational philosophy has come a long way since then...
But for me, one of the great joys of parenting is to see what emerges from my children. It is magical to watch interests, bents, and genetic predispositions take over. I, too, want to make sure my children get a little bit of music, a little bit of sport, a little bit of art and lots of books. But as my children get older, especially Theo, it is just wild to expose him to various things, and then watch in wonder as the interest takes off.
He has done sports, he has taken violin lessons (his initiative, his desire). He has cooked, and drawn and painted and been given more toys than any child should have, all designed to bring out some developmental stage for hyper-education minded parents like me. He likes letters, and he can read a little bit.
But the thing that really got him going was chess. I never played chess at all. My mother bought a board for my brother once, with flat pieces and arrows drawn all over that were meant to represent the moves of each piece. But even as a child I thought half the magic of a chess board was the pieces--the queen, the king, the knight, the rook and the pawns. I didn't know what they were, but a real chess board is a beautiful thing. So one evening, Jonathan (who knows how to do everything at least pretty well) taught Theo chess. I was skeptical. The boy is 5. The only child I had ever heard of who played chess at five was Bobby Fischer. I loved the movie, but that didn't end so well...
But within an evening Theo had memorized the moves. No flat instructional cards required. He loved it. He would play game after game with Jonathan. He would set up the board on our living room coffee table so it was ready to play at any moment. He played Jonathan after work, and taught me how to play, too. He started playing against himself at night in his room. When we went on vacation at Stinson the only toy we brought aside from two bedtime books and three matchbox cars was the chess board. Every adult who passed through the door ended up getting a chess lesson from Theo. It was like a chess camp run by a five-year-old. As we grilled zucchini and sausage and corn, and drank wine, he had Jen or Sandy or Rob at the chess board, congratulating them on good moves, and, if it was a bad move, asking: "Are you sure you want to do that?"
He cannot get enough.
Yesterday I took him to the Santa Monica library on Ocean Park for a chess club outing. The library runs this spectacular program to teach chess to children. It is free, and it is cool. You go in and there are five to 10 chess boards, with kids ranging in age from 5 to 18. There are mothers and grandmothers, too. The program is run by a bearded, chess-playing librarian called Mel, who looks like he just climbed out of the waves two blocks away. He is high on chess. When I brought Theo the first time he congratulated me, and told me it was important for ME to play chess, too. He said research at UCLA (based on his program, of course) has taught rambunctious boys that their actions have logical consequences, and that they can play out their rebellion against their Mommies on the chess board rather than by smoking pot. Helps with the Oedipal complexes, too, he added. Cool. I was in.
He played with Theo that day, and then Theo played against a cocky, home-schooled seven-year-old who lied to Theo and coached him to move his queen, and then took it. Within two moves Theo had check-mated him with a rook. The kid couldn't believe it. I almost threw him in the air I was so proud of him.
Yesterday I took him back. A woman walked in with bleached hair, a tie-dyed shirt and a girlie leather purse. "This is Christie," Mel said. "She is a certified Chess instructor. Play with Theo," he said. She defied every expectation of the nerdy male chess coach, but she was awesome. She encouraged him and taught him the basics of the game. Within 10 minutes I could tell he had moved beyond my knowledge, and probably his father's, too. He was in heaven. She kept looking to me. Is this too much? I have so much I want to teach him. I said I didn't know what he could retain. I told her just tell him everything. See what he can take. He sat so quietly I didn't even know if he liked it. He was almost silent. And he thought long and hard on every move. When we had to leave after an hour he cried.
I felt euphoric. I had hit the jackpot. I felt a sense of wonder. There is something so awe inspiring and incredible about watching your kid hit their interest and go into the zone. I know every child has that place. That interest. That thing that just fires their imagination and makes them go and go so that time slows down and disappears. I think that is our job as parents. To keep searching for that thing. I found one!