As adults we should never doubt whether we are getting through to children. We should worry about the message we send. This column recalls my memories of a conversation caused by one message I sent to my lunch buddy, a second grader.  We eat lunch together once a week at an elementary school.
    Since December we worked with flash cards to pass his math test. At first he wouldn’t try. “It’s too hard.”
I’d say something like, “If it’s hard, you just need time. You can get it.”
    We would keep at it until he got at least ten answers in a row. He would ask, “How many did I get?” 
    But two weeks ago he failed his math test again. After lunch we played hangman, a computer word game. The difficulty level surprised me, but as I tried to help him, he clicked on random letters and then quit. Was he giving up?
     Last week I practiced my opening line to him, “Do you believe you can solve problems if you work at them?”
    “Yes. I passed my math test.”  
    “Fantastic!”  
    With half-an-hour left he opened a checkers box, but it also had chess pieces.  “How do you play that?” he asked. 
    I cringed against discouraging him again. I remember saying something like, “It’s too hard for a second grader.”
    He grabbed a black horse and slapped it in on the board. “What’s this?”
    “That’s a great piece.” I showed him how it moves two spaces one way, then right or left one space, and is the only piece that can jump over others.
    I put a pawn on the board and showed him how it moved forward, but when it got to something, had to stop. “The horse can jump over, like this.”
    He grabbed a bishop and put it on a red space. “What’s this?” 
    “That’s a red bishop.” I moved it across all the red spaces on a diagonal. I added the black bishop and demonstrated on black spaces.  I put them in their home positions on my back row and moved the pawn and horses into place. He did the same with white pieces.
    “How do you win?”
    I put the king on its home space. “You have to kill the king.”
    I tipped it over. A dead king quickened him. He seized his white king. “Can my king kill your king?”
“No.” 
    We added castles and queens. “The queen is the most powerful,” I said, moving it like bishops and castles. 
    “Can you get another queen?”
    “Sure, get a pawn on the back row, just like getting kings in checkers.”
    We finished setting up. “How do you start?”
    I showed him and he moved his castle pawn forward two spaces.
    I won’t say I played my best game, but he learned how to trade pieces. By the bell, we each captured three pawns, a horse, a bishop, and a castle.  
    He asked, “Who won?”
    “We’re even. It’s a tie.” 
    His smile faded.  “Oh.”
    Halfway home I realized he won. He had slapped that horse on the board after I told him chess was too hard for him. He told me I was wrong. It was hard to get through to me, but he just needed a little time.