All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten: Uncommon Thoughts on Common Things

Fulghum expresses his affection for zoos, observing the seemingly simple lives of animals like giraffes and orangutans. Imagining himself as an exhibit in a zoo, Fulghum uses this scenario to explore the contrast between the “unexamined” lives of animals and the “examined” lives of humans, who continually seek deeper meaning. He concludes that while zoos are entertaining, they are not suitable for permanent human living.

“Next Six Stories” sets the stage for a series of narratives about Fulghum’s next-door neighbor. He shares an anecdote about house-hunting with an Indigenous friend who valued good neighbors and beautiful trees, because trees are more difficult to replace than built structures. Fulghum admits to minor “exaggeration” but affirms that the person he’s about to describe really existed.

Fulghum introduces Mr. Washington, an older Black man who lived up a hill from Fulghum’s home in the 1960s. Mr. Washington takes pride in the manicured appearance of his home and yard, a sharp contrast with Fulghum’s “shack.” Despite their differences, they become friends, bonding over jazz, philosophy, and cooking. Fulghum fondly recalls Mr. Washington’s laughter and wisdom.

Mr. Washington’s commitment to lawn care and “herbicidal mania” extends to Fulghum’s yard when, one day, Fulghum catches Mr. Washington spraying weedkiller on the dandelions in his—Fulghum’s—yard. Fulghum, however, passionately defends the dandelions as flowers, not weeds, sparking a lighthearted disagreement. Fulghum expresses appreciation for these often-unwanted plants, citing their various uses and benefits, such as making salads, wine, and teas. He admires their resilience, using them as a metaphor for finding beauty and value in what many consider to be nuisances or imperfections. The essay concludes with a detailed recipe for making dandelion wine.

Fulghum marvels at Mr. Washington’s meticulous care of his home, taking him as a representative of those individuals who—unlike Fulghum itself—have their lives completely in order. In a more introspective tone, Fulghum shares his recurring fantasy about a ritual called “stick-polishing”: a metaphor for focusing deeply on a simple task. This ritual represents a break from the chaos of everyday life, providing a moment of Zen-like peace. Fulghum uses this metaphor to explore themes of simplicity, the quest for order, and the intrinsic value of focusing on small tasks.

Mr. Washington jokingly claims to be a professional gambler, though he is really an insurance agent. What he means is that he sees life as a series of gambles and embraces the risks involved with a playful and optimistic spirit. Mr. Washington’s home office displays sayings that reflect his philosophy, such as “Always trust your fellow man. And always cut the cards.” These displays encapsulate his approach to life: balancing trust and caution, faith and practicality. Fulghum respects the underlying wisdom in his approach, and reflects on the importance of how one plays the game of life, emphasizing attitude over outcomes.

Fulghum and Mr. Washington have contrasting approaches to yard maintenance. Mr. Washington is constantly raking leaves and shoveling snow, while Fulghum views those activities as unnecessary disruptions of nature. He notes how leaves and snow decompose naturally, enriching the earth without human help. He contrasts his neighbor’s manicured yard with his own, which is covered in a colorful layer of leaves, advocating for natural beauty over artificial tidiness. Fulghum expands this to life philosophies, arguing that despite human attempts to impose order, nature follows its own, uncontrollable course. He concludes by suggesting that ultimately, both he and his neighbor are part of nature’s larger cycle.

Mr. Washington comments that hair grows approximately half an inch per month, encouraging Fulghum to consider the significance of his barber in his life. His regular barber visits evolve into deep conversations, making them confidantes. Fulghum illustrates how simple interactions, like haircuts, can foster significant relationships. He uses haircuts as a metaphor for the ongoing care relationships require, concluding that small interactions contribute profoundly to the social fabric.

From the perspective of 2004, Fulghum revisits the insights gained since All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten was first published, He confirms that while basic lessons have deepened over time, their core remains unchanged. Fulghum shares key thoughts like “Everything looks better at a distance,” “Everything is compost,” and “There is no they—only us” (217), reflecting his philosophy of acceptance and interconnectedness. He discusses the perpetual challenge of capturing life in words and embraces the imperfections of human existence, arguing that true understanding comes from engaging fully with life. Concluding with personal reflection, Fulghum affirms he would live his life the same way if given another chance, valuing the lessons learned.

In “Coda” Fulghum reflects on the nature of endings. His favorite literary ending is James Joyce’s Finnegans Wake, which breaks off mid-sentence, sending the reader back to the book’s beginning—the next part of the concluding section. Fulghum draws a parallel between this literary technique and his own life, suggesting that his writing and learning are continuous. He talks about the iterative process of revisiting, reconsidering, and revising his views, which mirrors the cyclic nature of Joyce’s narrative structure.