The Most Important Teacher of My Life Wasn’t a Harvard Professor

Several weeks ago, I was saddened to learn about the passing of my childhood teacher, Svetozar Jovanovic. Though our regular lessons ended 30 years ago, his teachings influenced my success more than any professor I encountered (even at Harvard). His lessons weren’t about philosophy, business or economics; they were about chess. And I was 9.

Chess is a game for strategists. Though there are miraculous exceptions, we don’t all start out knowing how to use our brains this way. Chess trains you how to think strategically, which is perhaps why, when I have a complex issue to tackle in business, I flash back to Mr. Jovanovic standing at his chalkboard with its oversized, magnetic chess pieces, waving his long pointer with the flourish of a conductor while assessing moves and countermoves with the precision of a five-star general. Mr. Jovanovic taught me to think 10 steps ahead, to discern patterns and mathematical probabilities, to assess the consequences of actions and to reconsider assumptions as circumstances change.

Chess is also a game for competitors. I was a nationally ranked chess player, one of the best kids in the nation, captain of the team that won the elementary school national championship. I played to win. When I started studying with Mr. Jovanovic at age 8, he lit the competitive fire inside of me that still burns brightly decades later. I am an intensely competitive person, and the roots of this personality trait can be traced directly to Mr. Jovanovic. So it’s no surprise that a few years ago when we codified our startup’s six core values, I pushed to make one of them “Winning is Fun.” Thank you, Mr. Jovanovic.

Mr. Jovanovic taught me that winning is fun, but he also taught me that losing sucks. Losing a chess game is particularly humbling and painful because it is a perfectly fair battlefield. Unlike other sports, you can’t blame the weather or the referee. You have only yourself to blame. And Mr. Jovanovic was always quick to remind me of this after a loss. He was prone to the kind of tough-love frankness that is a throwback to an earlier time, an era when there were winners and there were losers, and there were no trophies for participation. Back in the Team Room after a loss, he would analyze my game and then in his thick Eastern European accent deliver a deadpan, “If you vant to vin, you must work harder.” He was right.

I fondly recall my post-match recaps with Mr. Jovanovic, where he would go through the match move by move, referencing his notations of a good move (one exclamation point), a great move (two exclamation points), a bad move (question mark) and a bonehead move (two question marks – you didn’t like to see those ones). I sometimes find myself playing the role of Mr. Jovanovic in my head, assessing with exclamations points and question marks, during product reviews, board meetings and earnings calls.

Mr. Jovanovic’s teachings made such an impression on my life that I’ve passed them onto my children, who have become successful chess players despite my far inferior pointer-waving skills. I wanted them to benefit from the same advantages chess developed in me – strategic thinking, intensity and valuing competition and excellence. Though my kids’ interest in chess is now waning, they have gotten everything I wanted them to get from the game – everything Mr. Jovanovic taught me.

When we’re young, we don’t realize just how much teachers will impact our future. We’re consumed by learning, and to our young perceptions the teacher is really just the vehicle for knowledge. It’s only as we get older that we understand how these great individuals shape our identities, values and career choices. Mr. Jovanovic planted seeds of strategic thinking, competition and grit; without those, I wouldn’t be where I am today.

Thank you, Mr. Jovanovic. Your legend lives on.