The Narrowing Gateway: The Uncertain Future of Minneapolis’ Premier Youth Internship Program
MINNEAPOLIS — For Jordan Dotson, the path from the North Side of Minneapolis to a corporate office at Best Buy’s headquarters was paved with high expectations and two daily bus transfers. In 2019, Dotson was a standout graduate of Minneapolis South High School, a theater enthusiast who balanced the rigors of a working-class household with the ambition of her parents. Today, at 25, she serves as an environmental compliance manager for the Fortune 500 retailer—a trajectory she credits almost entirely to a pivotal high school internship through the Minneapolis Step Up program.
However, Dotson’s success story, once the standard-bearer for Twin Cities workforce development, is becoming increasingly difficult to replicate. As the regional economy grapples with the rise of artificial intelligence, the permanence of remote work, and a shifting political landscape regarding diversity initiatives, the very programs designed to bridge the opportunity gap for students of color are facing a quiet but significant crisis of participation.
Main Facts: A Tale of Success Amidst Institutional Decline
The Minneapolis Step Up program, alongside its St. Paul counterpart, Right Track, has long been the gold standard for municipal youth employment. Since its inception in 2003, Step Up has guided more than 36,000 teenagers through career-exploration courses, professional mentoring, and paid summer internships. For participants like Dotson, the program provided more than just a paycheck; it provided a sense of "belonging" in spaces that had historically excluded people of color and those from lower-income backgrounds.
"It was a little jarring at 15 or 16 to prepare for an interview at a Fortune 500 company," Dotson recalled. Her journey took her from a summer intern to a part-time employee during her years at the University of Minnesota, and finally to a full-time professional role in 2023.
Despite these individual triumphs, the macro data tells a more sobering story. At its peak in 2011, Step Up employed 2,325 teenagers. By the summer of 2025, that number had dwindled to 1,385, and it fell further to a recent low of 1,250 this past year. Currently, two eager teenagers apply for every one available internship slot, leaving over a thousand students every year without the professional stepping stone they were promised.
Chronology: From Civic Vision to Modern Headwinds
The genesis of Step Up dates back to 2003, a period of relative civic optimism in Minneapolis. The program was the brainchild of then-Mayor R.T. Rybak and Richard Davis, the former CEO of U.S. Bancorp. Their partnership represented a unique "town and gown" alliance between the public sector and the city’s corporate titans.
Davis, who began his own storied career as a part-time bank teller while in college, became a tireless advocate for the idea that a city’s economic health is tied to its youngest workers. Throughout the mid-2000s and early 2010s, Rybak and Davis leveraged their social capital to recruit a massive roster of private sector, nonprofit, and government employers.
The program’s timeline can be divided into three distinct eras:
- The Growth Phase (2003–2011): Rapid expansion as Minneapolis corporations embraced the program as a core component of their corporate social responsibility (CSR) portfolios.
- The Stability Phase (2012–2019): A period of consistent output, where the program became a standard rite of passage for Minneapolis public school students.
- The Contraction Phase (2020–Present): Triggered by the COVID-19 pandemic and exacerbated by the "Great Reshuffle," this era has seen a steady withdrawal of employer participation.
The decline is not due to a lack of interest from students. Rather, it is the result of a fundamental shift in how Minneapolis businesses operate. The onset of remote and hybrid work models has left many corporate headquarters—the traditional "labs" for these internships—largely empty. Without managers physically present to mentor 16-year-olds, many companies have opted to quietly sunset their participation.
Supporting Data: The Economic Reality for Minnesota’s Youth
The stakes for the program’s survival are underscored by data from the Minnesota Department of Employment and Economic Development (DEED). According to Angelina Nguyen, DEED’s director of labor market information, the "incremental growth" in Minnesota’s population and workforce over the last two decades has been driven almost entirely by people of color and immigrants.
"Employers need more high school graduates ready for on-the-job training or post-high school studies," Nguyen stated. However, the current labor market is proving hostile to the very demographic Minnesota needs to cultivate.
Key statistics highlight the urgency:
- Rising Unemployment: Teen unemployment in Minnesota surged from 7.9% in the spring of 2025 to 13.5% by May of the following year.
- The Racial Gap: Unemployment among Black Minnesotans remains disproportionately higher than the state average, a trend that Step Up was specifically designed to reverse.
- Budgetary Constraints: In 2025, Step Up operated on a budget of $3.75 million, funded by 85 wage-paying employers alongside government grants. While the funding remains, the "placement capacity" is shrinking.
- Competition: Teens are no longer just competing with each other; they are competing with older, more experienced workers for entry-level roles in retail and food service—sectors that are also seeing fewer openings than in previous years.
Official Responses: Mentors and Managers Speak Out
While the data suggests a systemic retreat, those on the front lines remain vocal about the program’s intrinsic value. Rene Madrid, an immigrant from El Salvador and manager of the U.S. Bank office on East Lake Street, has mentored more than 50 interns since 2010.
"Some of my top bankers, and I have 20 direct reports here, started as interns," Madrid said, pointing to Jorge Estudillo Castillo, a 22-year-old banker who began his journey as a Step Up intern while attending Cristo Rey High School. "They learn about our business, customer relationships, making professional connections, personal finance, credit, savings, and money management. That’s good for all their futures."
Tammy Dickinson, the long-time manager of Step Up, acknowledges the current difficulties but remains hopeful. She points to the healthcare sector as a potential growth area, where demand for workers remains at an all-time high. Dickinson notes that entry-level roles like personal care assistants can serve as a "low-cost training" gateway to high-paying nursing and medical technology careers.
However, Dickinson also acknowledged the "cautionary" atmosphere in many boardrooms. The rise of generative AI has led some companies to pause entry-level hiring as they reassess their future labor needs. Furthermore, there is an unspoken but palpable pressure from some political circles to eschew diversity-focused initiatives—a trend that has made some corporate partners wary of programs that specifically target students of color.
Implications: The Long-Term Cost of a "Lost Generation"
The implications of Step Up’s decline extend far beyond summer paychecks. For many participants, these internships are a form of "social insurance."
Take the case of Mike Archer, 27. Raised by a single mother with a disability on an income of $14,000 a year, Archer credits Step Up with keeping him away from "negative influences" in his neighborhood. His first job was picking up litter in a local park for $7.24 an hour.
"I wasn’t just running around the neighborhood," Archer said. "I also became a mentor at the park… I was responsible. I bought my own first phone and some clothes. My job gave my mom a break."
Today, Archer is a journeyman electrician and a foreman, earning $63 an hour. He owns his own home and expects to earn over $100,000 this year. His trajectory—from manual labor in a city park to a high-earning trade—is the definition of the American Dream in the 21st century. But Archer is clear: without that first $7-an-hour job, the path to Dunwoody Technical College might never have materialized.
If programs like Step Up continue to shrink, the "Archer effect" will diminish. The result for Minnesota would be a two-fold economic blow:
- A Widening Skills Gap: As the older, predominantly white workforce retires, the state will lack a trained, diverse cohort to take over technical and professional roles.
- Increased Social Costs: Without early professional intervention, the "teen-to-prison pipeline" or long-term reliance on social services becomes a more likely path for at-risk youth.
The success of Jordan Dotson at Best Buy and Mike Archer in the trades proves that the Step Up model works. The question for Minneapolis leadership and the corporate community is whether they can adapt the program to a world of remote work and AI—or if they will allow one of the city’s most successful social escalators to grind to a halt.
As Tammy Dickinson puts it, the goal remains simple but the execution is becoming complex: "We need more employers to step up, knowing they are training their own future workforce." Without that commitment, the bus ride from the North Side to a Fortune 500 headquarters may soon become a journey that fewer and fewer students are able to take.
