There are lessons kids can only learn with dirty hands and wood shavings in their shoes. Across the state, 4-H and FFA (which previously stood for Future Farmers of America, but has since been shortened to better represent what the program now encompasses) members are preparing for their county and state fairs.

Fair is the culmination of, in many cases, nearly a year of work with one set of livestock or years of concerted effort toward the improvement of their crafts, be it exhibiting livestock, shooting sports, or home design and décor.

The Douglas County 4-H program is where I first learned about agriculture. In style that ought not surprise any of my most loyal readers, I recall one year exhibiting a pair of lambs named Gov. Lamm and Roy Romer. I didn’t invest the time I should have, but still learned important lessons about recognizing potential and investing in it, feeding livestock to a finished weight, and being responsible for the outcome. I also learned about bringing livestock to their endpoint and selling them into the food supply. There were certainly plenty of tears shed over Roy and the Governor, but their sale allowed me to invest in better livestock in subsequent years.

All 4-H and FFA youth complete records for their projects. For example, my daughter exhibits market and breeding goats and market beef at the county fair so her record books reflect the investments she has made in livestock, feed and equipment. She has learned to divide equipment expenses by the number of years she’ll have those items, and she has done the math to determine her profit or loss. It’s always a loss. That’s not the point though.

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She and other livestock kids are up and at ‘em bright and early every day from May through August to feed and exercise their livestock. She rinses her cattle projects every day without fail and blows them dry under a fan to keep them comfortable, fat and sassy. As a kid, I never showed cattle, but underestimating the intestinal fortitude of a little kid who leads a 1,300-pound steer around a showring is always a losing bet.

The smart money is always on rural kids. It’s always on the kids who can’t and don’t sleep in all summer. It’s always on the kids who spend more time in the barn than in a gaming chair. It’s always on the kids who can and do write checks for feed and livestock out of their own checking accounts and keep records to reflect those purchases. It’s always on the kids who spend their summers learning to clip steers or plan meals or launch rockets or create robots or bake cakes from scratch — or can jelly like their grandmothers once did.

There is dignity in hard work and in jobs done well. The kids sweating through county fairs know that to be true. They will make excellent employees, employers and entrepreneurs. They are learning life skills, whether that’s safely shooting a .22 or sewing a quilt with an even .25-inch seam. They learn to write checks and thank-you notes and financial records. They learn to interview with an adult about their project and communicate what they learned and what they would have done differently. They learn to shake the hand of the community member who purchases their lamb in the junior market livestock sale, and the learn the disappointment of not reaching their ultimate goal. They are perfect examples of why they should be supported when the gavel falls, or a business is asked for sponsorship dollars to pay for ribbons.

I wrote about 12-year-old Gage in El Paso County who was nonverbal and struggling daily against autism a few years ago but recently — with his stuffed bear in one hand, noise cancelling headphones on securely, and with a helper at his side — he showed his lamb at his county fair. That’s bravery.

I’ve written about a young girl who beat leukemia and has returned to the showring to collect prize belt buckles and hopefully a scholarship to college.

I’ve written about a young man who was a 4-Her last summer and is a Marine this summer.

I should write about a little girl in my own 4-H club who signed up for her projects and designed a command center in their home where she posted a clear emergency-exit plan. This all came about after her neighbor’s home burned to the ground and, once the smoke cleared, her project goal was crystal clear.

There are thousands of stories about kids shaped by the lessons learned through hard work and responsibility in rural America. The common thread, though, is them being a safe bet to develop into good people. You can bet on that.

Rachel Gabel writes about agriculture and rural issues. She is assistant editor of The Fence Post Magazine, the region’s preeminent agriculture publication. Gabel is a daughter of the state’s oil and gas industry and a member of one of the state’s 12,000 cattle-raising families, and she has authored children’s books used in hundreds of classrooms to teach students about agriculture.