Grad School is Just Chess with Pipettes
Lessons learned from 10,642 chess games that also applied to my PhD
In grad school, I learned how to play chess—and got addicted to it. At first, it was just a fun distraction from experiments and papers, but over time I realized that many of the lessons I was learning over the board applied just as much to my PhD. Strategy, patience, resilience—the same principles that helped me avoid blunders in chess also helped me navigate the ups and downs of grad school.
Here is a summary of how I elevated my grad-school chess game from pawn to queen.
- Learn an opening before you play.
Chess is fun and addictive—it’s tempting to try and get better at the game just by playing over and over again. After all, learning by playing is a lot more fun than learning by studying (seriously: who wants to study for a hobby?). At least, this was my attitude when I started out. Sure, my playing improved—slowly—with repeated games. But when I finally took the time to learn a real opening and my opponent’s possible counters, my rating skyrocketed, my positions became more stable and methodical, and I had even more fun.
Embarking on a PhD in a shiny new lab, it’s easy to just want to grab a pipette and start doing something, anything. However, there’s wisdom in the old adage: “a day reading papers saves a week at the bench.” Preparation matters. Taking the time to learn the “openings” in your field—the key literature, standard methods, and pitfalls—sets you up for better positions later on.
- Developing all of your pieces beats soloing with the queen.
When I first started playing, I would rush my queen out early and try to dominate with her alone. For about three moves, it felt powerful—until my opponent developed their knights and bishops, castled, and chased my queen around the board. A one-piece strategy rarely works.
In grad school, it’s tempting to lean only on your strongest skill—whether it’s coding, writing, or benchwork—but success requires a balanced game. Building out all your “pieces”—teaching, presenting, mentoring, statistics, communication—makes you far more resilient and opens up more paths to success. Don’t forget about your other pieces.
- You don’t have to accept every gambit.
“Wait a second – did my opponent just offer me a FREE pawn? Don’t mind if I do!”
In chess, a gambit is an offer of “free” material in exchange for long term advantage. I love it when I play as white and my opponent accepts my Vienna gambit: in exchange for a single pawn, my pieces can dominate the center of the board. Meanwhile, their knight is forced to retreat back to its starting square (and as a bonus, I usually wind up winning the pawn back!).
Grad school is full of gambits, too. A collaborator dangles a side project, a PI suggests an extra experiment, or an organization offers you a leadership role. Some of these are valuable. Others will eat up your time and leave you worse off. The hard part is learning when to say no. Protecting your position—your research, your timeline, your sanity—is sometimes the stronger move.
- Take a break.
Any chess player can relate to the feeling of being “tilted.” A string of losses can make you feel frustrated or angry, causing you to play worse and leading you to lose more games in a vicious cycle. It can be tempting to try and keep playing to make up for your loss in elo. It’s not just anger, though—playing when you’re distracted, tired, or hungry leads to blunders in your gameplay.
One of the hardest lessons in grad school to learn is that sometimes, the right approach is to step away for a moment, regroup, and tackle the challenge again some other day. Take a break. If not for self care (which is a valid reason by itself), do it because you play worse.
- Learn the art of desperado.
One of my favorite chess tactics is the desperado. Your bishop got a bit too excited and found itself in a sticky situation. Upon further analysis of the board, you realize there is no way to save it. It is doomed to be captured. However, while it has to go down, it does not have to go down without a fight. Cause chaos – take a pawn on the way out. While materially less valuable, it might just be the key to destabilizing your opponent’s position.
In grad school, look for opportunities to desperado. Projects collapse, experiments fail, data falls apart. But even a “lost” effort can yield value: a side figure, a methods paper, a poster, or just a lesson that saves you time later. Learning how to salvage something useful from a bad position turns setbacks into stepping stones.
- Never, ever resign.
Sometimes, all feels lost. Your opponent is up nine points worth of material; it’s just your king and pawn against the world. It is natural to just want to end the misery and resign. This is when you need to remember there are many paths to victory. Odds are, you aren’t a grandmaster, and neither is the person you’re playing against. Even when you’re in a decidedly losing position, your opponent can make a mistake and hang a piece—or even hang mate. Your pawn can promote. You can win on time. Alternatively, the goal can be to simply not lose. There are traps you can set to try and trick your opponent into a cheeky stalemate: when you are not in check but have no legal moves, the game ends in a tie. Some of the most satisfying wins (or rather, non-losses) came just moments after I considered resigning.
Grad school is the same. Papers will get rejected, experiments will fail, imposter syndrome will whisper that you’re not cut out for this. But if you keep going, aka keep making moves, then you give yourself a chance to succeed. Persistence is a hidden superpower. Stay in the game. The longer you play, the more there is to learn from (even if you wind up losing in the end).
Similar to grad school, chess is a long game. It has more possibilities than there are atoms in the observable universe (this is not hyperbole—I encourage you to read about the Shannon number). It is impossible to provide advice or memorize the perfect response to every possible situation. However, I hope you can find ways that these high-level pieces of guidance resonate with your own journey.
Remember that neither chess nor grad school are won by brilliance in a single moment but instead by steady moves, strategic sacrifices, and resilience in the face of setbacks. They both demand preparation and balance, but also the humility to step back when you need a break and the courage to keep going when things look bleak.
The good news? You don’t have to play the perfect game to learn something and have fun.
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