The cover of Troy Kidder’s new book “The Soul Of A Boy.”

By Troy Kidder
President, Kidder Media

Editor’s Note: This article is one of the stories in Troy Kidder’s new book “The Soul of a Boy.” Kidder grew up in a small town in Elkhart County. When he and his family are not in Florida, they still reside in the area of his youth. After teaching school for a number of years, Kidder and his wife Lori started a school marketing and communication company that now extends across the country — reaching millions of people each year. He wrote his first published story, “School All Day … Lunch on a Tray” on the back of his wife’s shopping list one morning while sitting in his car waiting for the local license bureau to open. Kidder is a corporate trainer, recording artist and has also written curriculum for schools and business. He credits these stories for the many opportunities he enjoys today. His new book of stories, “The Soul of a Boy” is available at troykidderstories.com.

Troy Kidder

Ah, first grade! School all day, lunch on a tray. What can I say? It was grand. Next to lunch and gym, “Show and Tell” was my favorite time. I loved to see what other kids had and what they were doing. My imagination would run wild as my classmates shared about their father being a fireman, doctor or heavy-equipment operator — and they had the pictures to prove it. Greg Eash even brought in his dad’s official police officer cap. Wow! Others talked about their relatives, their homes and cars, their toys and trips. But what did I have?

Then it finally happened. It was an ordinary Show and Tell Tuesday, right after Christine told about her much older brother joining the Navy. She even had a duffel bag that said “NAVY” stamped in large letters right on it.

I could take it no more. I jumped to my feet and called out, “Mrs. Yoder! Mrs. Yoder! I have something.”

Taking note of my enthusiasm, she graciously said, “Come up front, Troy, and please share this exciting news.”

Before I knew it, I had told the class that we had a litter of puppies — 10 puppies, to be exact. I continued, “And there are brown ones and black ones and brown and black ones. And even a little tan one I named Koala, since she looks like a bear.” It was wonderful. My classmates were oohing and ahhing, wiggling and giggling. And then the request rang out: “I want one!”

“Yeah, I want one too!”

And without thinking I blurted back, “Fifty cents. Fifty cents for a puppy.”

Now that I had stirred the class into a complete frenzy, Mrs. Yoder had to step in to restore order: “Okay, okay, class. Settle down. Troy has pups for sale. You can talk with him during recess about it. But remember to ask Dad and Mom before anything is decided.”

I was feeling so good that it didn’t really hit me, at least not very hard, that I had put myself in quite a predicament. Not only would I fail to produce puppies, I didn’t even have a dog . . . male or female. I had thought the whole thing would pass, but it didn’t.

The very next day, kids were bringing me 50 cents — sometimes two quarters, sometimes pennies and nickels. And by the end of the day, I had quite a stash. (I didn’t know what else to do, so I took the money.)

This worked fine with the excitement still high and me the center of attention for three days. It sounds funny now, but in my first-grade mind it never really occurred to me that somehow this had to end — and would end badly for me. Well, that third night or so, my buddy Bruce’s mom, Mrs. Buller, who worked in the school cafeteria, called my mom and wanted to pick up “their” puppy. My mother was perplexed to say the least.

Funny thing is, I don’t remember the punishment or even if there was one. I don’t recall returning the money, though I’m sure my parents saw to it. And I don’t remember how the kids treated me after they found out the truth. (Kids are much more forgiving than adults in those situations anyway.) I just have a fond memory. Sure, I knew deep down that what I did was wrong. But my heart wasn’t set to deceive anyone. I just wanted to have something that nobody else had — something others admired and could enjoy with me. I guess all of us need that from time to time.