Editor’s note – This editorial is an edited version of a History Chat by Craig Hertel at the Greene County Fair July 12.
~by Craig Hertel, retired Extension professional
More than a century ago, rural America faced a challenge: how to spread new knowledge— especially in agriculture and home economics—to everyday people. In 1914, the Smith-Lever Act established the Cooperative Extension Service and a framework for what we now call the “adoption-diffusion” process: moving innovation from researchers to families, farms, and communities. 4-H was the youth engine behind that process. Youth in corn and canning clubs often led the way, proving new methods worked. Friends and neighbors talked, and copied.
Today, innovation moves faster than ever. Human knowledge, once thought to double every century, now doubles in many fields every few months. But even as information explodes, we’re drowning in knowledge and starving for wisdom, character and connection.
Consider what youth are facing in 2025: digital overload, social media pressure, mental health struggles, economic uncertainty and constant change. They’re being asked to solve problems that didn’t exist a decade ago. They need more than academics—they need deeper life skills.
That’s where 4-H still shines.
Too often, people reduce 4-H to what they see at the fair—baked goods, livestock shows or poster boards. But that’s just the surface. The real purpose of 4-H remains unchanged: to help young people grow—not just in what they know, but in who they are becoming.
At the heart of 4-H is the Targeting Life Skills Model—a simple clover-shaped diagram that outlines more than 35 essential life skills. These competencies include decision making, empathy, leadership, and resiliency. These aren’t easily taught in classrooms or measured by tests. They’re practiced through real experiences—and that’s what 4-H offers.
They’re also the skills artificial intelligence can’t replicate. AI can process information, but it can’t feel compassion. It can fix grammar, but it can’t model integrity or perseverance.
Through 4-H, youth don’t just absorb content—they apply it. A baking exhibit? That’s goal setting and attention to detail. Woodworking? That’s decision-making and craftsmanship. A dog, rabbit or calf project? That’s care, consistency and follow-through. Mistakes aren’t punished— they’re discussed. Growth is measured not just in ribbons, but in reflection and progress.
The 4-H Recognition Model reinforces this growth. It includes participation, personal goals, meeting standards of excellence and teamwork. These layers remind us that youth development is a journey—not just a scorecard. We can’t afford to confuse exhibits with the entire learning experience. If we oversimplify 4-H, we risk preparing young people for a world that no longer exists.
Imagine a young person who’s mastered 35+ life skills—able to think critically, communicate clearly, nurture relationships, empathize with others and lead with purpose. That’s the kind of foundation 4-H can offer—if we expand its depth and protect its purpose.
In an age when some youth programs are shrinking or losing relevance, 4-H continues to offer something rare: a place where youth are challenged, supported and prepared for real life.
So yes, 4-H was powerful in 1915. And I believe it may be even more important in 2025.
Technology may automate tasks and deliver facts instantly. But wisdom, character and community can’t be programmed. To illustrate just how much the world has changed for our youth, this editorial was partially researched and edited with the help of ChatGPT.
And yet, in every zip code across this great nation, some of the most essential life skills— resilience, compassion, collaboration and integrity—are still best learned in places like 4-H.
