Today is the 13th Anniversary of 9/11 and I’m always reminded of how I was glued to the TV–holding my infant son–my oldest boy who was 7 months old at the time.
This past week I’ve watched my 13yo start a brand new school. It’s not easy to begin all over again in the 8th grade. In a K-8 school, most of the kids have been together since the towers fell–or at least it feels that way. And as if being 13 isn’t enough of an obstacle in life, it also takes courage to walk into a new place when you’re dyslexic. Especially when the world evaluates a child’s intelligence thorough reading and writing. But I’ve watched him closely and I’ve come to believe that everything has gone so well because everyone involved has remembered something very important…
“All I Really Need To Know I Learned In Kindergarten”
by Robert Fulghum
Most of what I really need
To know about how to live
And what to do and how to be
I learned in kindergarten…
These are the things I learned:
Share everything.
Play fair.
Don’t hit people.
Put things back where you found them.
Clean up your own mess.
Don’t take things that aren’t yours.
Say you’re sorry when you hurt somebody.
Wash your hands before you eat.
Flush.
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 everyday some.
Take a nap every afternoon.
When you go out into the world,
Watch out for traffic,
Hold hands and stick together.
Be aware of wonder.
Today, of all days, always seems like a hard spot to find some wonder when there is so much broken. My mind will wander and walk with the ghosts of 9/11 and I’ll think about my friends in the military who rearrange their families like a Rubix Cube, in order to deploy a loved one to the other side of the world. As a writer I’ll bow my head to the brave journalists who believe that truth counts for something–everything. I’ll think about how race divides us when most of us only want to be friends. And I’m also devastatingly sure I’ll watch the news and see something awful I never imagined before. But then I’ll watch my boy–my beautiful, brave, flicker of potential and I’ll remind myself that everything we really need to make the world a better place–we learned in Kindergarten. All we have to do is remember what we know.
I will remember you.
I will remember for you.
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