If you have a lot of time on your hands as I do, then you seem to think about some fairly obscure things. Here is my latest conundrum - Does playing chess make you smart or do you have to be smart to be good at chess? It's a real "chicken or the egg" type of question. I'll do my best to solve it and I'll use one of my unwitting family members to do so. That's the fun part about being an amateur writer, I don't have to ask permission and I don't usually worry about offending anyone.
How chess came into my life is no longer a part of my memories. My parents didn't play, so I must assume that it was another habit picked up in the hallowed halls of St. Bonaventure's School. The ability to play chess and learning to tie a tie are two of the more important life skills that followed me out the doors of my alma mater. In terms of chess, my brother Bill and I had differing learning opportunities as kids. He is 2 1/2 years younger, so it is likely that much of what he learned came from me. I must have been a really good teacher because, before long, Bill was beating me regularly and he even became chess champion of his class. I don't ever recall having the confidence in my chess playing prowess to want to have played in any tournaments. As his chess mentor, I saw that Bill was a quick study and that he had a few brain cells kicking around inside his melon. Even today, he is able to tackle the Sunday crossword and does calculus in his head the way the rest of us use our fingers and toes to count to twenty.
In1982, I was a member of the last class in this province to complete high school after only grade 11. Those that came after me, including Bill, had to go for an extra year but they seemed to do in three years what took me only two. To disguise that fact, they renamed grade 10, 11, and 12 to Level I, II, and III. The high school curriculum also took on more of an university flavour, with the students earning credits and having much more choice in the courses they were taking. The other similarities were the free time between classes and teachers not giving a damn if you pipped off from class.
Bill always seemed to breeze through school. Our home was across the street from the high school we attended. Bill was a prisoner there when I was beginning university, but it seemed like he had a standing pass from the warden to be absent as often as he desired. I never skipped a class in my life until I began university as an extremely immature 17 year old. As a first year MUN student, it was a rite of passage to hang around in the TSC or sit in the tunnels with friends and play hookey from classes that we actually paid money to attend. Now that is higher learning
For the first time in my life, attendance wasn't being taken and those "profs" didn't give two hoots whether I was in class or not. I took full advantage by often staying in bed in the mornings. It also allowed me to be well rested for my all important hockey games and practices. Unlike English 1000 class, I'd never ever skip anything to do with hockey. Back to Bill - As much time as I spent at home in those years, Bill seemed to be right there too. He was sleeping in just as late as I was, had a two hour lunch break that allowed him to watch Sportsdesk and to make his coveted weiners and beans on toast. To make it more painful for me to accept that this was the "new" high school that I had missed out on, Bill was always always home by 3:05 pm. Some of my afternoon classes didn't end until almost 5 o'clock and I then had to trudge home for 25 minutes, often in rain, drizzle, fog or slush.
As a result of his high school experience, Bill was much more prepared for university than I was. His marks were better and he didn't fail English 1000 as I had. I took 6 years to finish my 5 years business degree, whereas Bill finished his more technical mechanical engineering degree in the normal 5 year time frame. He also seemed to sleep in a lot, have 2 hour lunches at home and never have an evening class. It was a mirror image of what he did in high school! I still don't understand how he made it look so easy, especially when studying for midterms and finals while watching reruns of his favourite television show, M.A.S.H..
Bill is grown up now. He has a wonderful nuclear family, a nice home, and an interesting, well paying job. I think it is time that Bill gives recognition to what has brought him his success. It wasn't 20 years of schooling and countless hours of studying. It wasn't his prowess in softball, which brought him provincial notoriety and the opportunity to travel across the country. His success is because of me. I taught him to play chess and he has refined and maintained his smarts by conquering me and my army ever since.
I'm certain that prior to learning chess, Bill just wasn't that smart. Before chess, Bill broke his arm trying to karate chop a piece of 2" x 4". Before chess and as a preschooler, he wandered away from the sitter and was found in a wooded area by a man who called the local radio station. The rest of the family heard the announcer say that a little boy with freckles was found in Pleasantville and all they were able to extract is that he answers to the name of Billy. We knew it just had to be my baby brother. Since learning chess, Bill hasn't broken any bones, nor has he gotten lost and needed the radio's help to be found. Bill owes a debt of gratitude to me and to the brain expanding game of chess. Without us, he just wouldn't be that smart. Checkmate, baby brother!
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