I Want Candy!!!

Hear that sound? The doorbell is ringing. Who could it be? The UPS man? Edible Arrangements? Avon calling? No! It’s your favorite Middle Schooler standing on your doorstep, brochure in hand. Ahh. The Camp Squanto Candy Sale has begun.

Last year I wrote about Camp Squanto, a rite of passage that every Hanover sixth grader experiences. The kids spend a week in Plymouth doing activities that enforce not just science and math, but self-esteem, social relationships and more. Sixth graders are asked to sell candy to help defray the cost of the trip. As if a free trip to Squanto isn’t enough of an incentive, other “prizes” are offered to sweeten the deal.

My sixth grader came home with his catalog and order form and wailed “But Mom, I’ve never sold anything before.” Now, this isn’t quite true. Back in pre-school, he sold cookie dough…and pretzels…and pizza kits. He doesn’t remember it because I was the one doing the selling. (Imagine pre-schoolers going door to door selling candy? “Hi, would you like to buy some candy? Uh oh, I pooped!”)

When Sally Foster entered our lives, we took a break from selling (given that every other school on the planet also sells Sally Foster wrapping paper. And really, I have a hard time spending $10 on something that is going to get ripped up and thrown away…but I digress.)

Getting back to Squanto candy, I suggested my son set a goal and try his best to reach it. His goal is 200 boxes. Apparently this is the minimum number needed to win a Sony Playstation 3. Given that the least expensive item is $6.50, I’m skeptical about reaching that goal, but I’ll encourage him nonetheless.
This whole experience takes me back to the time when I sold Girl Scout Cookies. Back in the day, Girl Scouts didn’t sit at tables at the grocery store, blocking the exit and forcing shoppers to run the Thin Mint gauntlet before they could get to the safety of their car. There were no flu clinics for enterprising young scouts (nice one, girls.) We had to hoof it from door to door. The literature from GS headquarters suggested we wear our uniform, knock politely and say (in a sing-song voice), “It’s Girl Scout Cookie time. Will you place your order with me?” Right. I lumbered from neighborhood to neighborhood, knocking on strange doors, all by myself, saying, “So. Want to buy some Girl Scout cookies?” Strangely, I was not the top seller of my troop.

My husband went through the same process, though he sold peanut brittle for his high school Environmental Study Team (a fancy name for his Outing Club.) Growing up in Central, NY, he had to walk farm to farm in order to raise money. (Or maybe he just took the tractor?)

I also remember advertisements in the back of my comic books that said, “Make money. Sell Grit.” There was a photo of an old tyme newsboy, satchel slung across his chest emblazoned with the word “GRIT”. I found out years later that “Grit” was a newspaper, (now a magazine) that “celebrates rural life”. If cookies are a tough sell, imagine knocking on a door and saying, “Hi! Would you be interested in Grit?” Slam. Still, there were those hardy young men who refused to give up. Some would say they possessed True Grit (ouch).

This weekend, my son and I went through the neighborhoods behind our home, trolling for candy sales (rather, he made the sales while I sat in the car and played with my iPhone). I watched him slowly shuffle from house to house and marveled at how much faster moved on Halloween when he was trying to get candy, rather than sell it. Still, his persistence paid off. I proudly watching him smile, inquire politely, and then thank each person, whether they made a purchase or not. Though he’s nowhere near his goal of 200 boxes, he’s off to a great start. I have to admire him for it.

So if you hear a knock at the door, be sure to answer it. There’s a 6th grader out there hoping to raise money for camp. And if no middle-schooler happens to come to your house…let me know.

I’ll send mine over.