NOTE: This submission comes from Pack 564 Communications Chair and Den 6 Leader Michael Pearson. This gets at the reason going door-to-door is so important for scouts in the popcorn sale. Popcorn Kernel.

It happened somewhere on Buckskin Drive.

My son, dressed as smartly in his Cub Scout uniform as an 8-year-old can manage, unfurled his popcorn sales brochure and headed for the door.

“Hi,” he began. “My name is Will. Would you like to buy some popcorn to support my pack and help me reach my goal?”

Well, sure, our neighbor told him. What do you have?

“I like this one,” he said, pointing to his favorite, unbelievable butter.

“My dad likes this one,” he says, pointing to one of the chocolate flavors and getting a gleam of response from our neighbor.

Then, out of the blue, the upsell.

“If you buy this one, you get that one, but you get an extra flavor, too,” he said, pointing to the chocolate lover’s collection.

This was new. Will had always just let the customers pick. But suddenly, here he was, trying out a new sales techniques on his own initiative. I didn’t tell him to do it, and we hadn’t yet been to the kickoff. Where was this coming from?

Our neighbor didn’t buy the collection that day. Neither did the next person he asked, or the one after that. Or the next one. But he kept trying. I could almost hear the gears turning in his head as he experimented with different approaches, different ways of getting his message across.

Sometimes, he’d get that message out like a pro. Now and then, he’d get so awkward and tongue-tied that I’d have to step in and gently help him get back on track.

As we walked from house to house, we’d talk about how he did, what he might try next, and how cool it would be to have a machine that just zooms around and does all the selling for you while you sit at home and eat popsicles.

Did I mention he’s 8?

Eventually, Will did sell a collection, but that was really beside the point.

What was important then?

Watching him grow in front of my very eyes.

See, one of the things the folks who buy popcorn from us need to know is that they’re really not buying popcorn. They’re buying opportunities for boys in their community to build character, learn citizenship, make friends and have fun.

And one of the things we need to remember is that we’re really not selling popcorn, either.

Yes, we do take money and hand over popcorn. And sure, we need the dough to help keep the pack strong.

But at the heart of all this talk of sales and shifts and raffles and prizes … at the heart of EVERYTHING we should be doing in scouting … there’s an opportunity for a boy to learn something: How to swallow his anxiety, step up to a neighbor’s door and try to make a sale. The tangible importance of looking someone in the eyes. The power of a smile and a cheerful attitude. The value of remembering a name from last year. The importance of setting a goal and seeing it through, no matter how much you’d rather be inside drinking a lemonade and reading “Harry Potter.” And the importance of trying something new, of not deflating when it doesn’t at first succeed, and of keeping at it. Like Will, there on Buckskin Drive.

Yes, your son can rack up the sales working booth shifts, and it takes persistence and stamina for him to keep at it for two hours. Those are lessons well worth learning on their own, and every boy who hangs on to those buckets and smiles and gives that little pitch a hundred times an hour deserves a great big attaboy.

And yes, you can sell popcorn for your son on Facebook and at work. There’s nothing wrong with that, either.

But it’s in those quiet moments, walking door to door together, talking about sales and commitment and obligation and creativity, it’s there when an opportunity for your son to grow really lives. And isn’t that what we’re all here for, to see our sons begin growing into the men we want them to become?

So take some time this afternoon or this weekend, go out selling with your son. Spend some time helping him think about what to say and how to say it. Let him learn how to handle “No,” and encourage him to think about what he’s doing beyond the cheesy plastic prize that will be lost by the time next year’s selling season rolls around.

Walk with him. Listen to him. Teach him.

It won’t matter if he doesn’t sell a single bag. You’ll both be better off for it.