Back in primary school, the days after exams were carefree days when we would still have to go to school, but were left more or less on our own as teachers were busy grading papers. The syllabus has been covered so there was really nothing to do except wait for the school holidays to come. So we did our best to spend time in school by... playing.
We would play card games and board games. Some would just chat away. Others would read a book (a very rare sight...) And chess was one of those games that we played. There was chess as we know it (played on an 8x8 black-and-white chessboard), and we also played Chinese chess. I knew how to play Chinese chess because my father taught me a bit when I was young, but chess was something foreign to me.
And so I did what I did best.
I tried to pick it up on my own. By reading about it, then trying it.
I followed that familiar pattern. I would go to the library and look for books on the topic. In this case, it was chess. So I borrowed books about the basic rules of chess, then books about the standard opening moves, and finally those that analyzed past games.
Basic rules because chess is a rule-based game, and the rules serve as the foundation for getting started. The standard opening moves are necessary because it prevents one from making simple mistakes as well as understanding what my opponents are trying to achieve. And analysis of past games because they provided me with a deeper insight into how the game is actually played and how to think ahead.
I never became one of the better chess players in class. Chess was just not my thing (I preferred Chinese chess), but at least I could hold my own against better players to give them a small challenge. It did give me a way to interact with other people in class, and further reinforced in me the self-learning technique that would prove useful to me as I continued my journey in life.
Chess. One of the things I taught myself.
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