I Accidentally Created a Chess Monster... And It’s My Son
I Accidentally Created a Chess Monster... And It’s My Son
A long, long time ago in a distant galaxy (Star Wars)—okay, not that long ago, no need to cue the dramatic space intro—I began a journey I never expected would shape two lives so profoundly: mine and my son Bernardo’s.
When he was young and curious, I became his chess partner. I taught him how the pieces move, the rhythm of the game, and all the quirks that make chess feel like a battle of minds. I wasn’t some grandmaster—I played for fun on the lowest computer level, just to pass the time. But when Bernardo showed interest, I committed to playing with him anytime he asked. And there was one rule: no free wins.
Some thought I was being harsh, even a little cold-hearted. But I believed that victory should be earned, not gifted. Because one day, if he beat me fair and square, he’d know he really did it.
And eventually—after years of practice—he did. I still remember his first win vividly. The joy on his face lit up the room, like he’d just won the world championship.
From then on, the wins became more frequent. These days, I hardly stand a chance. He’s grown into a brilliant player, leaving me in checkmate city more times than I’d like to admit.
As I said in an earlier post, my son is now 3/4 of the way through his LDS mission, and although he's far away, we still talk every week. Yesterday, from the Church office in front of a computer, he surprised me: “Let’s play for old time’s sake.” We played five lightning-fast games back-to-back. Five losses for me. Even when the system tried to give me an edge by reducing his pieces—it didn’t help. He still swept the board.
But how did I feel? Not crushed. Not bitter. I felt proud.
Proud that my son has surpassed me. Proud that hard work paid off. Proud that our time together laid the groundwork for his success. It’s the kind of satisfaction only a father can know.
👨🏫 Now, From the Chessboard to the Classroom
As an English teacher here in China, I see a similar pattern. I don’t hand out victories. I push my students to grow, to fail, and then to learn how to rise. My classes aren’t designed to trip people up—but I don’t sugarcoat things either. I tell my students: “If you really want the rewards that come with strong language skills—better jobs, wider opportunities—you have to do the work.” A passing grade doesn’t always mean you’re ready. And just like chess, if you want to win, you need to practice with intention.
I want to build English-speaking monsters. Students who can walk into interviews with confidence, seize international opportunities, and live full lives because they mastered something that opens doors.
Not everyone chooses to put in that work. But some do. I see their dedication, and it fuels me to be the best teacher I can be.
So here’s the message: There’s still time. Let this be the moment where your growth begins. Whether you're learning chess, English, or anything else worth mastering—take the reins. Do the work. Surprise the world. Surprise yourself.
And who knows… maybe one day you’ll be the monster that beats your mentor.
Article by Marcelo Gameiro
Published 05 Aug 2025