Let me start by saying this loud and clear—I fully understand that social media is a fantastic, free tool for fundraising. I’ve used it myself. It’s efficient, safe, and allows people to support youth programs without the awkwardness of a face-to-face sales pitch. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.
But let’s set that aside for a moment and talk about something else: the lessons we learned when we had to do it ourselves.
I remember my first year of Little Guy Football, selling those discount cards that every kid had to move. Back then, if you didn’t sell the required amount, your name didn’t go on the back of the jersey. Or at least, that’s what we were told. Looking back, I’m pretty sure if a kid didn’t hit the number in time, the program just put their name on there and let them make up the sales later. But my dad made sure I believed every bit of that nonsense.
It probably went something like this:
“You sell your Little Guy tickets after school today?”
“No…”
“Well, they’re due in three days. Looks like you’ll be the only dumbass out there without his name on the back. Better yet, maybe I’ll just tell Scott you forgot how to spell it. Get your ass out there and sell the damn cards, John.”
Needless to say, I hated it. But I did it.
And like so many moments after that, Dad was right, I was wrong. It wasn’t even that bad. I knocked on doors, stumbled through my pitch, and before I knew it, I had sold them all. It gave me confidence. It made me realize that asking someone to buy something wasn’t as terrifying as I thought. It taught me how to introduce myself, how to handle an awkward pause, and how to move on when someone said no.
There was a time when every kid had to go through this. Selling raffle tickets, candy bars, or discount cards for sports teams and school activities meant standing on a neighbor’s doorstep, knocking, and hoping for the best. It meant getting over that initial fear of rejection, learning how to talk to people, and taking responsibility for our own success.
If you ever stood outside a neighbor’s door, nervously shifting your weight while waiting for them to answer, you know the feeling. What if they said no? What if they weren’t home? What if they asked a question you didn’t know how to answer? But the more doors we knocked on, the easier it got. We learned to introduce ourselves, make eye contact, and get through a sentence without stumbling over our words.
Not everyone bought what we were selling. Some people politely declined, others ignored us completely, and every now and then, someone shut the door in our face. And you know what? We survived. We learned that rejection wasn’t personal, that persistence mattered, and that sometimes, a simple “thank you anyway” was the best response. Those are real-life skills—ones that can’t be learned from hitting “share” on a Facebook post.
Many of us had parents who refused to do the selling for us. Sure, they might have bought a few tickets themselves, but they weren’t going to work with a sign-up sheet and collect cash on our behalf. It was on us to put in the effort. That built accountability. If we wanted to go to the tournament, earn the prize, or support our team, we had to earn it.
Of course, we live in a different world now. We wouldn’t send kids knocking on strangers’ doors today the way we did back then, and that’s okay. But in making fundraising easier, have we also taken away some of the valuable lessons that came with it?
Social media and digital payments have made selling more convenient, but they don’t teach kids how to navigate in-person interactions. They don’t teach them how to speak with confidence, look someone in the eye, or handle an uncomfortable conversation. They don’t teach kids that success often requires effort beyond a simple post.
This isn’t a call to ban online fundraising. It’s not a complaint about parents helping out. It’s just a reflection on the lessons we learned when we had to do the hard part ourselves—and a reminder that sometimes, the struggle is where the real growth happens.
So, if you’re a parent helping your child with a fundraiser, maybe challenge them to sell a few on their own. Not because you have to, but because there’s still value in learning how to ask, how to speak, and how to stand on a doorstep without shaking in your boots.
