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

Fulghum admits that, after writing about Larry Walters’s flight in 1982—and celebrating it for years afterward—he’s learned that he got some things wrong. Some of the details are minor, such as what Larry took with him in the chair. Others are more significant, such as the fact that the ascent was 16,000 feet rather than 11,000—well into commercial airspace. Having dropped the BB gun he’d planned to use to control his descent, Larry crashed into power lines and blacked out a neighborhood. The FAA cited him for flying without proper certification and not contacting air traffic control. Although briefly famous, Larry died by suicide in 1993. Reflecting on Larry’s journey, Fulghum notes the depth of his despair was as profound as his imaginative highs. Larry’s tombstone remembers him as a “lawn chair pilot” beloved by those who knew him, a life marked by both daring spirit and tragedy.

“Balloon Launch” recounts the first public hot air balloon ascent, which took place in Annonay, France, in 1783. The Montgolfier brothers, inspired by rising smoke, used resources from their father’s factory to create a balloon that demonstrated that air travel was possible, and the atmosphere was safe. Benjamin Franklin witnessed the event, likening the balloon’s potential to that of a newborn baby. The narrative continues with Jean-Francois Pilatre de Rozier, a fervent advocate of the Montgolfiers, who died trying to fly across the English Channel. The essay highlights the role of imagination in driving scientific and technological advances, showing how new ideas build on previous ones and motivate future generations. It also reflects on the varied roles individuals play in discovery, from dreamers and supporters to adventurers, linking historical feats to modern inspirations.

As the member of the household tasked with the chore of doing laundry for many years, Fulghum writes about the sense of satisfaction he gets when he does this work. Moreover, he elevates it to a “religious experience,” that connects him to the elements and the cycles of life, offering him a fleeting sense of order. He also enjoys playing with the elements of static electricity by hanging socks on his body. However, when his washing machine and dryer break on a Saturday afternoon, Fulghum must go to the laundromat, something he hadn’t done in decades. While he waits, he contemplates the detergent display, viewing it as a metaphor for cleansing the mind and spirit. The essay merges the mundane with the philosophical, probing the meanings of cleanliness and technological progress. In his note at the end, Fulghum says he still enjoys doing laundry, even though it’s not his job as often anymore, and that he remains compelled by static electricity and detergent packaging.

Fulghum begins “Medicine Cabinets” by musing about the phenomenon of looking in other people’s medicine cabinets. A friend of his, he writes, admits to doing so, though he claims it’s part of his research for a sociology PhD. Still, many others do so without a scholarly excuse—even if people don’t want to talk about it, for fear of seeming strange. Fulghum’s friend claims that medicine cabinets are fascinating because they reveal a lot about their owner’s life and aspirations—while also revealing that most people are messy. This peek into private spaces highlights a universal aspect of human nature, revealing a shared vulnerability and ordinariness. Fulghum concludes by acknowledging his own bathroom could reveal some secrets—and vowing to keep those to himself.

An English teacher and his wife are stranded in Seattle with a dead car battery. Fulghum, who possesses jumper cables but lacks the requisite knowledge to use them, offers to help. Despite their best efforts and combined guesses on how to connect the cables, their attempt results in damage to both cars and solidifies their incompetence. The story concludes humorously when the teacher’s wife sends Fulghum a set of foolproof, electronically controlled jumper cables to prevent future errors. This act reveals themes of learning from mistakes and the importance of knowledge, illustrating that good intentions need to be backed by proper understanding to avoid adverse outcomes.

After numerous unsuccessful attempts to jump-start cars, Fulghum consults various sources and learns the proper method: how to attach the correct clamps to the corresponding battery terminals and manage the process of restarting cars. With this knowledge, he shifts from being a “Bad Samaritan” to someone proficient. Despite his newfound skills, he fears forgetting the procedure under stress. The story uses this personal journey to underscore the themes of learning, preparation, and the significance of handling potentially risky situations with care.

“Bar Story” details Fulghum’s experience working as a bartender while attending seminary. Initially worried about the repercussions of bartending on his standing at the seminary, he is reassured when the dean supports it. The dean views bartending as an opportunity for real-world education and observes that true ministerial work involves engaging with people in everyday settings, much like Jesus did. The dean designs a work-study program, where Fulghum’s bartending is treated as a practical lesson, with weekly reports on his interactions. Fulghum learns about human nature from his patrons, enhancing his understanding of life and preparing him for ministry. The narrative ends with Fulghum successfully completing his unconventional education, demonstrating that real-world experiences are an invaluable complement to formal learning.

“Help” recounts a moment in Fulghum’s life when he was a seminary student facing financial hardship as graduation approached. With no job prospects and a family to support, Fulghum is compelled to ask for assistance, a move that he finds difficult due to his independent nature. Surprisingly, the dean praises this act of vulnerability, highlighting the importance of empathizing with others’ needs: a crucial skill for a minister. The dean instructs Fulghum to prepare a budget for financial aid, which he does diligently. However, the budget is rejected twice, not for its excessiveness but because it lacks room for “joy”—no provisions for activities like being able to enjoy a beer, purchase books, or help others. After Fulghum revises the budget and, more importantly, his sense of values, to include these aspects, it is finally accepted. Fulghum learns the importance of balancing personal well-being with the ability to give to others, a lesson he realizes is as valuable as the financial help he sought.

Moving can be humbling, Fulghum writes, for when all the furniture and boxes are moved out, a home’s former inhabitant is faced with the less pleasant detritus of what had seemed to be a well-ordered life: dirt, hair, dust, and the like. “Stuff” recounts how Fulghum changed his mind about this Stuff after reading an article in a medical journal that revealed it to be composed predominantly of particles of human skin and hair and the fine dust from meteors that disintegrate as they enter the earth’s atmosphere. He further learns that this mixture can support growth, such as sprouting seeds or mushrooms, under the right conditions. This understanding transforms the mundane into “cosmic compost” that links human beings to the rest of the universe.

Fulghum encounters a former neighbor, now a successful sales manager for a vacuum cleaner company. The man’s “personal hero” is James Murry Spengler, who invented the vacuum cleaner from improvised materials and air when he needed to clean without worsening his allergies; however, Spengler is far less well-known than William Hoover, the man who bought the patent and put his name on the machine. However, despite his professional association with high-tech vacuums, the neighbor prefers using simple, manual tools for his own home maintenance. The neighbor appreciates the simplicity and community-oriented lifestyle of the Amish, who eschew modern technology, and his preference for quieter, hand-operated tools reflects, in Fulghum’s account, the values of community and the appreciation of nature.

“The Mermaid” unfolds during a lively game in a church social hall. Amid the chaos of 80 young children running around, one girl refuses to identify herself with any of the three established categories in the game, insisting that she is a mermaid. She persistently asks Fulghum where she should stand, and he declares that she should stand next to him. The story highlights the importance of inclusivity, suggesting that those who don’t fit conventional categories still deserve to participate in community without compromising their identity.

Fulghum narrates an encounter with a taxi driver in New York City. He attempts to travel uptown, but the driver, a commanding woman wearing a pink jacket and black turban, informs him that a traffic jam makes it impossible. With a mix of humor and pragmatism, she affirms she will only drive downtown, playfully suggesting destinations as far south as Rio de Janeiro. Throughout their conversation, the driver shares candid details about her lifelong connection to New York and her current personal struggles. Touched by her frankness and resilience, Fulghum offers her $20 to lighten her burdens, which she hesitates to accept, declaring it insufficient compared to the trials of her life. Fulghum reflects on her spirit, likening her to a mermaid, an echo of a metaphor used in his previous essay, to symbolize her unusual nature. The story concludes with her laughing and navigating the chaotic traffic, embodying a relentless, adaptive attitude, and showing that, like mermaids, some individuals are uniquely suited to their environments, no matter how turbulent.