By the time the twentieth century came to a close, the computer had became more than a new toy in an old classroom. It began, oddly enough, with a gift from my firstborn son, Wolf. He introduced me to a game of chess with the computer. I shared that information with my students. I also shared it with a small group of students who enjoyed the comfort of my classroom and satisfied their need to help someone else. These were the students whose intelligence was above average. The idea of forming a chess club was born in that classroom. The club would be known as the Rogersville High School Chess Club.

My students took it upon themselves to raise money for the necessary chess games. We made enough money for six board games. During the lunch breaks, we learned to play chess. It was a challenge to commit to memory not only all the different chess pieces, but also the moves that could be made. It was an epiphany for my students who had never seen the need to know and understand math. It also was a challenge for those students who knew chess well enough to figure out ways and means to teach what they knew.

We became officially a club just in time to enter a statewide competition. With the help of the person responsible for the chess club in the Springfield region, we filled out the papers, handed over the money, and waited to be accepted.

With the acceptance came an overwhelming desire to win. The classroom was once termed “The Cage” because it served Special Education students. Now it became known as The Home of the Thirteenth tribe, named by all the students, those who served willingly to help others and those who made every effort to learn. The student who suggested that name simply stated that the Thirteenth tribe of the Hebrews was lost to posterity in the same way that Special Education was lost to the public school system.

Lunch break time at the High School saw members of the chess club foregoing lunch in the cafeteria or games in the gym for the privilege of becoming chess players able to compete against other players. The computer provided information on chess; so did every book that could be found. Reading scores went up; so did math scores. Energy was born, an energy that said as a group we could win.

The person from the Springfield Club, along with two of the players, visited us one more time. Now we were introduced to the etiquette of the game participants. All students participating had a new goal. Recognition from an outside source changed an apparent drudgery mental exercise to a love of learning. We were all seekers of knowledge and we were eagerly looking forward to the impending event, but there was still that problem of transportation. The director of Special Services was not fond of activities that had originated outside of her administrative perimeter. The problem was solved when Superintendent Dr. Albert Erb provided the bus and offered to be the driver.

The day of the tournament found all participants excited and well disciplined. There were fourteen students, Dr. Erb and myself. The Special Services Director declined the offer to come along.

As chess clubs go, we were undoubtedly the biggest in numbers. Most clubs had six or eight individuals participating. We talked about that. We knew we were not the best players, but we had numbers and we had a winning attitude. We arrived on time, imbued by thoughts of the experience of facing top players from the State on a one-on-one basis across the game board.

After the last game was played and the room became quiet, it was time to get acquainted with something called wining and losing. We certainly did not anticipate being number one. And we weren’t. All of the students were huddled in a group around a large table. Dr. Erb and I sat in the foreground. We were not anticipating being second. And we weren’t. I told the kids beforehand it wasn’t winning that counted. It was participating in an event that counted. We kind of hoped we would place third, but we didn’t, and so we would console ourselves not with winning, but having tried our best. Then the person in charge of the match got up to make a statement. Fourth place, he said, was won by an unusual circumstance. It was the numbers that won fourth place for Logan Rogersville Chess Club, a club that counted no less than fourteen players. At that point, my well-behaved students became a jubilant wave of human energy, rising from their benches behind us. Dr. Erb and I ducked and shielded our heads. Fourteen kids came hurtling forward en mass to accept the trophy. It was the first trophy they had ever won. It was the first chess tournament they had attended, and it would probably be the last for many of them. It was also a memorable moment for the sponsors of the tournament, who were totally unaware of the fact that we were a special education class.

I think about that each time I take out my chess game. What had taken place was learning with a computer in the lead. As a teacher, I had learned that motivation makes the difference. Public education had an opportunity to observe that winning is possible. All that was needed was the removal of the label.