All I Ever Needed to Know I Learned in Kindergarten

A few weeks ago my bride and I started doing some post holiday clean out. I came across an old paperback copy of one of my favorite books: All I Really Needed to Know I Learned in Kindergarten, by Robert Fulghum.

(Prefer to listen to this story instead?)

This book was published in 1986. The year I graduated from high school. The year I started college. 1986 was a glorious year, for sure. 

I decided to re-read this book to see if the yellowing pages had the same impact on me after some 30-plus years stuffed in a box.

The book is comprised of short stories. The kind of stories that make us feel good. The kind that make us think about everyday happenings. The kind that make us slow down, and savor life for a minute. Old school stuff, for sure.

The Rules

You see this book is really about a set of rules. Rules of living decently with other human beings. Rules that were relevant to adults (and kindergarteners) in 1986. But who knew that we would need these rules even more today. A lot more.  

Rules like “Play fair” and “Say you\’re sorry when you hurt somebody.”  Basic things that we all learned before we could even write our own name with a broken Magenta crayon. Before you realized that nobody wants the white crayon or the white jelly beans. Before you realized that a “smock” was really just your dad’s old dress shirt. Before you questioned if you could sing or dance. (Of course you can. Everybody can sing and dance.)

But somewhere along the way we’ve lost these rules. Rules of common decency. 

Share everything.

Don\’t hit people.

Put things back where you found them.

It seems as if the more our world speeds up, the less we remember these rules. As if the speed of life negates the need to share and say your sorry when you mess up. As if we’ve earned the right not to put things back where we found them. 

We work crazy hard. Then we go home to bury our face in our phone as we half-watch another episode of The Voice for the third night in a row.

We forget what it felt like to see the world afresh. Just watch this 30 second video a kid talking about imagination. (Ignore the part where she goes a knuckle-deep in her nose).

To sing and dance like nobody\’s watching. To draw and paint without judgement. To listen to stories with child-like curiosity.

Back when we were full of optimism and an unwavering sense of adventure. When every day was new. When every day was exciting. We couldn’t wait to go home. And we couldn’t wait to come back tomorrow. 

Clean up your own mess.

Don\’t take things that aren\’t yours.

Wash your hands before you eat.

Flush.

How I long for that unbridled excitement. I long for that unadulterated wonder at the world around us. That unmistakable wonder of a child. Long before the world begins to temper our expectations. When our emotions were lifted beyond the heavens by the smell of a brand-new box of Crayola 64’s with the built in sharpener.

I can still vividly remember the much-anticipated field trip to Mathis Dairy Farm. It was the highlight of the year. And I got chosen to actually milk the cow, Rosebud. I can still smell that nasty heifer. I can still feel that warm udder in my hands. And hear the squirt of milk hitting the metal pail. Before we left they gave us cold, chocolate milk in glass bottles with straws. It was heaven. 

Can you imagine if we had heeded just some of the advice? Like the advice to clean up our own messes. Perhaps we wouldn\’t have to contemplate a garbage dump the size of Texas floating in the Pacific Ocean. Or argue about whether we could eat Rosebud for dinner. Or drink from a single-use, plastic straw. Or whether we are all gonna drown in exactly 12.3 years. How silly all that might seem to us. 

Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.

Live a balanced life – learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day.

Isn’t it true that life is still pretty simple at its core? That cookies and milk can solve a lot of problems? Personally I like a warm Snickerdoodle and some cold 2%. That might be my my last meal on Death Row.

It’s our human interpretation and our desire to complicate things that causes trouble. That little internal voice in our head. That little internal voice that wants to talk about everything with us. Over and over and over…..again.

“Part of the problem is that little internal voice. It’s chatty.”

The average person speaks at a rate of 125 words per minute. In an hour we might speak 7,500 words and be exhausted.

But that little internal voice in our heads? That little voice never gets tired. That little voice speaks to us 10 times faster. So if our minds are working really hard on something, that little internal voice thinks at 1,250 words a minute or 75,000 words an hour. Said another way, just one hour of thinking hard is the mental equivalent of talking out loud for 10 hours straight. It’s equivalent to flying from JFK to Tel Aviv, Israel and talking out loud, non-stop, for the entire flight.

As Fulghum expresses in the book, “The examined life is no picnic.”

The speed of information isn’t helping us these days. It’s like a double shot of espresso for the overactive mind.

Personally, I like things a bit slower. Like when we had three channels on the TV.

And our home had one telephone for five people to share. And our milk that got delivered to the door. And my Dad could let me sit on his lap to hold the steering wheel at 60mph so he could get his beer open without spilling in on himself. Without seat belts, of course. You wanna be thrown clear of the wreck, of course.

Take a nap every afternoon.

When you go out in the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands and stick together.

Don’t you think the world would be a better place if every meeting ended with warm cookies and milk? And people actually shared their cookies. And then snuggled up on a mat with their blankie and took a long nap. Imagine making Republicans and Democrats follow this protocol. 

Life & Death

Imagine what the country might accomplish if we feared life & death and pain & sorrow like a child. And we cherished love and joy and friendship like the rare commodities they truly are. And we never lost that sense of wonder. Sir Thomas Carlyle once wrote, “Wonder is the basis of worship.”

Don’t you think we’d approach the world differently if we saw every world problem through the universal filter of child-like wonder and innocence? Me too.

We might, in fact, honor the life and death of a homeless man in Santa Monica. A man who died the same day as Kobe Bryant. Yet people pour out their hearts over Kobe Bryant as if they’ve lost a lifelong friend. Both are total strangers to us. Both of their lives had equal value.

Child-like wonder is an antidote. An antidote for everything. But especially an antidote for our hyper-individualistic way of life. A society becoming almost totally devoid of social, emotional or physical contact. An antidote of love and cookies & milk. An antidote of sharing and nonviolence and naps. 

Be aware of wonder. Remember the little seed in the Styrofoam cup: the roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that.

And just imagine if we actually learned the lesson that was intended with the little styrofoam cup. That little seedling. Peeking its little green head above the soil.

That life is fleeting.

That life is precious.

And just as the seedling dies, we too shall perish in due time. And that we shouldn’t waste it. Not a minute of it. For just like the seedling (and Kobe Bryant), nobody knows when their time will come.  

Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup – they all die. So do we.

When my daughter was in Kindergarten the teacher, had a research lab worth of mice and fish and every creature under the sun. She even had rabbits that hopped around the room-free as a bird. I still recall when Tenpleton the rat died. 

Those were dark days at our house. Dark days. 

The Death of Wonder

And then remember the Dick-and-Jane books and the first word you learned – the biggest word of all – LOOK.

A few weeks ago I wrote a story about Legacy. And our propensity to rely on apps like Waze for navigation. Our heads down. And as we look down, the entire world passes us by. 

Imagine the simple things that we miss. A beautiful sunset or a full moon.

Just imagine life in another ten years. When driverless cars will whisk us to and fro. We won’t even bother to look out the window at the world. Too engrossed in our own myopic lives. No need to look around to see where we are. Looking around will become the historical equivalent of watering your horses. 

So that’s it. Just a few rules to live by that could make life on this planet more enjoyable.

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