Let’s try this again: Paying homage to All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten

(A version of this post ran in April 2020.)

When life hits back, it can pack a powerful punch. In those moments, I find that I return to a few favorite things: my faith in God; my wife and my family; and my core belief system that goodness, kindness, and hard work will win out.

I may be down for a million different reasons. I run into a work issue or I’m frustrated about one thing or another and my wife will offer a kind word. Or she’ll remind me how far we’ve come and I’ll have the encouragement I need to fight another day.

Besides her support over the years, I’ve found that I’ve turned to another source of energy. I’ve turned to a short essay that I first picked up oh so many years ago in Robert Fulghum’s book, All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.

Fulghum, an author and minister, holds a pretty simple thesis. It states that everything that is important in life wasn’t learned in grad school or on the job or in the office, but in the kindergarten classroom. It promotes things like having good manners, sharing, playing fair, and the power of warm cookies and cold milk. He presents a novel concept in today’s fast-paced, gotcha, get-what-you-can, when-you-can-get-it life that we all lead.

A return to simple lessons

The essay’s brilliance is hidden in its simplicity. The essay is like a constrictor knot, a binding knot where the harder you try to break it, the stronger it gets. Life is hard, but when you return to the simple things, the more things become clearer and the easier it gets.

I first read Fulghum’s book when it came out in the mid-80s. I was in serious stress mode. I had popped into a bookstore on my college campus to buy a Blue Book, the small 15-20 paged books we had to buy for essay tests. Since I was in no mood to get back to cramming for my exam, I took five minutes to look at the new books on the shelf. I’m not sure what I was thinking about at the time, I had no extra money. The lint in my pocket wasn’t going to help me buy much of anything. And, I certainly didn’t have time to spare. I needed to get back to studying for my exam, but I quickly perused Fulghum’s book.

The book is sometimes criticized for the trite and saccharine nature of its advice. And I remember feeling that at first. I remember feeling insulted. Here I was about the take the test that I thought was going to ruin my life and I got the impression the book was making fun of me. “Hey there, Fulghum or Fulcrum or Fudge or whatever your name is, who do you think you are? I got real problems here!”

On the other hand, I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. No matter what happened, there would be another day. The sun would rise and a new day would begin. When I read his thesis, I was reminded that thousands of other people across the globe would love to have the problems that looked so perplexing to me. I was blessed and I wasn’t even appreciative.

You’re gonna miss this

I read the book again when I first started a family. I needed a reminder that I would survive the chaos of family life. The challenge of keeping up with three young kids, a young wife, and managing a career was exhausting, but I couldn’t help but take in the words of others who had been through the same thing. They told me that my equilibrium would return and that I would one day crave the craziness of that very moment. (Yes, I love my life now, but I do occasionally miss those days.) Of course, I picked the book up again after 9/11, if only to serve as a sweet positive reminder that life can be good.

Still has meaning

When we were cleaning our basement recently, I found the book stacked with other books in a box. It lay beneath Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night and atop Mitch Albom’s Tuesdays with Morrie.

Each time I read the essay, it seems to offer a lesson. Yes, wash your hands. Put things back where you found them. Don’t hit people. And even in times of distress, share with those in need. I don’t know about you, but in a time of uncertainty where the news seems have some new challenge or issue, where everything seems political, those seem like some powerful words.

I should note that that the book espouses holding hands when you go out into the world and sticking together. Yes, Mr. Fulghum, I can’t think of a better message: All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.

Paying homage to All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten