I was really impressed by the chess curriculum in two ways:
Remember to let the child win most of the time.
The surprise I had here is that when my dad taught me chess when I was about 5, something that stands out in my memory is that he emphasized that he would always play to win, and if I won it would be a really victory, and if I lost I did not have a right to complain. I did not win much, but I really liked playing. I remember wanting to play more and him not having time, rather than having a problem with motivation.
Some tips for teaching chess to 4 or 5 years old children. First, I made a blank square divided into 8x8 little squares, with named rows and columns. I named a square, my daughter had to find it; then she named a square and I had to find it. Then we used the black-and-white version, and we were guessing the color of the named square without looking.
Then we introduced kings, in a “king vs king” combat; the task was to reach the opposing row of the board with your king. Then we added a pawn; the goal remained to reach the opposing row. After a month of playing, we introduced the queen, and the concept of checkmate. Later we gradually added the remaining pieces (knights were the most difficult).
Then we solved about thousand “checkmate in one move” puzzles. Then two moves, three moves, four moves. That took another 3 or 4 months. And only afterwards we started really playing against each other.
That is a really thoughtfully structured curriculum! Maybe it is a standard way to do it in some countries but all through my childhood when I taught people chess or saw it taught by others the basic process was just to explain the moves of all the pieces by demonstration and then just jump in. Rows? Columns? Notation? Endgames? That didn’t come until way later.
Josh Waitzkin also learned in a similar way, and attributed some of his strengths to that. From his book:
Once he had won my confidence, Bruce began our study with a barren chessboard. We took on positions of reduced complexity and clear principles. Our first focus was king and pawn against king— just three pieces on the table. Over time, I gained an excellent intuitive feel for the power of the king and the subtlety of the pawn. I learned the principle of opposition, the hidden potency of empty space, the idea of zugzwang (putting your opponent in a position where any move he makes will destroy his position). Layer by layer we built up my knowledge and my understanding of how to transform axioms into fuel for creative insight. Then we turned to rook endings, bishop endings, knight endings, spending hundreds of hours as I turned seven and eight years old, exploring the operating principles behind positions that I might never see again. This method of study gave me a feeling for the beautiful subtleties of each chess piece, because in relatively clear-cut positions I could focus on what was essential. [...]
Once I experienced these principles, I could apply them to complex positions because they were in my mental framework. However, if you study complicated chess openings and middlegames right off the bat, it is difficult to think in an abstract axiomatic language because all your energies are preoccupied with not blundering. It would be absurd to try to teach a new figure skater the principle of relaxation on the ice by launching straight into triple axels. She should begin with the fundamentals of gliding along the ice, turning, and skating backwards with deepening relaxation. Then, step by step, more and more complicated maneuvers can be absorbed, while she maintains the sense of ease that was initially experienced within the simplest skill set.
That is a really thoughtfully structured curriculum!
Yeah, it is amazing to read ideas of people who are good at both the subject (e.g. chess) and teaching. The general idea is: “if anything is complex, split it into pieces, and teach those pieces separately”. Very simple, but people constantly keep forgetting this. Or perhaps keep underestimating how things can seem complex to a beginner.
The surprise I had here is that when my dad taught me chess when I was about 5, something that stands out in my memory is that he emphasized that he would always play to win, and if I won it would be a really victory, and if I lost I did not have a right to complain. I did not win much, but I really liked playing. I remember wanting to play more and him not having time, rather than having a problem with motivation.
I seem to recall a friend having a similar dynamic with his father, which soured significantly when the friend started routinely winning.
I was really impressed by the chess curriculum in two ways:
The surprise I had here is that when my dad taught me chess when I was about 5, something that stands out in my memory is that he emphasized that he would always play to win, and if I won it would be a really victory, and if I lost I did not have a right to complain. I did not win much, but I really liked playing. I remember wanting to play more and him not having time, rather than having a problem with motivation.
That is a really thoughtfully structured curriculum! Maybe it is a standard way to do it in some countries but all through my childhood when I taught people chess or saw it taught by others the basic process was just to explain the moves of all the pieces by demonstration and then just jump in. Rows? Columns? Notation? Endgames? That didn’t come until way later.
Josh Waitzkin also learned in a similar way, and attributed some of his strengths to that. From his book:
More links: deliberate practice, granuralization.
Yeah, it is amazing to read ideas of people who are good at both the subject (e.g. chess) and teaching. The general idea is: “if anything is complex, split it into pieces, and teach those pieces separately”. Very simple, but people constantly keep forgetting this. Or perhaps keep underestimating how things can seem complex to a beginner.
I seem to recall a friend having a similar dynamic with his father, which soured significantly when the friend started routinely winning.