All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten

All I really need to know about how to live and what to
  do and how to be I learned in kindergarten. Wisdom was
  not at the top of the graduate-school mountain, but
  there in the sandpile at Sunday School. 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 every
  day 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. 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.
Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little
  seed in the Styrofoam cup--they all die. So do we.
And then remember the Dick-and-Jane books and the first
  word you learned--the biggest word of all--LOOK.

  Everything you need to know is in there somewhere. The
Golden Rule and love and basic sanitation. Ecology and
politics and equality and sane living.

  Take any one of those items and extrapolate it into
sophisticated adult terms and apply it to your family life
or your work or your government or your world and it holds
true and clear and firm. Think what a better world it would
be if we all--the whole world--had cookies and milk about
three o'clock every afternoon and then lay down with our
blankies for a nap. Or if all governments had as a basic policy
to always put things back where they found them and to clean up
their own mess.

  And it is still true, no matter how old you are-- when you go
out into the world, it is best to hold hands and stick together.

      --Robert Fulghum