Bridging the Opportunity Gap: The Critical Role and Uncertain Future of Minneapolis Step Up

In the early morning hours of 2019, Jordan Dotson, a standout student at Minneapolis South High School, would board the first of two city buses. Her journey from the city’s North Side to the theater department at South High was more than a daily commute; it was a physical manifestation of her ambition. Raised in a working-class household, Dotson carried the weight of her parents’ high expectations and her own drive to transcend the limitations often imposed on youth from her ZIP code.

Today, at 25, Dotson serves as an environmental compliance manager at Best Buy’s corporate headquarters. Her trajectory—from a public high school student to a Fortune 500 professional—is a testament to the transformative power of the Minneapolis Step Up program. However, as Dotson flourishes, the program that launched her career faces a pivotal moment. Despite decades of success in creating a pipeline for Minnesota’s future workforce, Step Up is grappling with a decline in employer participation, a shifting labor market, and a political climate that has made diversity-focused initiatives a point of corporate caution.

Main Facts: A Proven Pipeline Facing Modern Headwinds

The Minneapolis Step Up program, alongside its St. Paul counterpart, Right Track, has long served as the gold standard for municipal youth employment initiatives. Since its inception, the program has provided over 36,000 teenagers with a combination of online career-exploration courses, professional mentoring, and paid internships. For many participants, particularly those from lower-income households or communities of color, Step Up is their first introduction to the professional world.

The program’s structure is rigorous. It targets Minneapolis teens who are disproportionately students of color, many of whom come from single-parent families or lack the professional "social capital" necessary to land high-level internships. The rewards are significant: summer jobs that pay up to $16.50 per hour for up to 40 hours a week, providing not just a paycheck, but a sense of belonging in environments that might otherwise feel inaccessible.

However, the current data paints a concerning picture of contraction. In 2011, Step Up employed a record 2,325 teenagers. By the summer of 2024, that number had fallen to 1,385, and current figures for the most recent cycle show a further dip to approximately 1,250. This decline is not due to a lack of interest from students—two teenagers apply for every one available internship—but rather a retreat by the private sector.

Chronology: From Civic Vision to Corporate Integration

The roots of Step Up trace back to 2003, a period of civic renewal 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" approach to economic development, bridging the gap between City Hall and the skyscrapers of the financial district.

Davis, who famously began his own career as a part-time bank teller while in college, was a fierce advocate for the "ladder of opportunity." He and Rybak spent years acting as the program’s primary cheerleaders, leaning on their networks in the private, nonprofit, and government sectors to secure placements for city youth.

Throughout the mid-2000s and 2010s, Step Up became a cornerstone of the Minneapolis business community. Companies like Best Buy and U.S. Bank didn’t just provide jobs; they provided mentors. Jordan Dotson’s experience illustrates this long-term commitment. She began interning at Best Buy during high school, continuing through her years at the University of Minnesota. She worked under Mary Thomas, a Best Buy attorney who transitioned from a mentor to a colleague as Dotson moved into a full-time role in 2023.

"It was a little jarring at 15 or 16 to prepare for an interview at a Fortune 500 company," Dotson recalls. "The internship helped me with networking and to start feeling that I belonged. I was one of only a few women and people of color on our headquarters team. Best Buy now feels like a good place for me."

Supporting Data: The Rising Barriers to Teen Employment

The decline in internship availability coincides with a tightening labor market for Minnesota’s youngest workers. According to Angelina Nguyen, director of labor market information at the Minnesota Department of Employment and Economic Development (DEED), the economic environment for teens has soured significantly over the past year.

Teen unemployment in Minnesota rose from 7.9% in the spring of 2025 to 13.5% by May of the same year. For Black Minnesotans, the unemployment rate is even higher, reflecting systemic disparities that programs like Step Up were designed to mitigate.

"Teens are competing with older, more experienced workers in this economy," Nguyen explains. "There aren’t as many openings as possible, and it takes longer to find a job."

Several factors contribute to the shrinking pool of internships:

• The Remote Work Shift: The onset of hybrid and remote work models has fundamentally altered office culture. With fewer managers physically present in the office, many companies feel they lack the capacity to provide the hands-on supervision and "over-the-shoulder" learning essential for high school interns.
• Economic Uncertainty: Volatility in the markets and the "mercurial" nature of recent federal administrations have led businesses to tighten their belts.
• AI and Automation: Caution over the long-term impacts of Artificial Intelligence has slowed entry-level hiring as companies reassess which roles will remain human-centric.
• Political Pressure: A growing national backlash against Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) initiatives has made some employers wary of participating in programs that specifically target underrepresented demographics.

In 2025, Step Up’s budget for 1,385 interns and work-readiness students stood at $3.75 million, funded by a mix of 85 wage-paying employers and government subsidies. While the funding remains relatively stable, the number of willing employer partners is the bottleneck.

Official Responses: A Call for Renewed Corporate Stewardship

Leadership at Step Up and state economic experts are sounding the alarm, emphasizing that these internships are not merely "charity" but a critical investment in the state’s GDP.

Tammy Dickinson, the long-time manager of Step Up, remains hopeful but realistic. She notes that high school career counselors frequently report that "Step Up veterans" are significantly better prepared for post-secondary life than their peers. Dickinson is currently pushing for more engagement from the healthcare sector—one of the few industries seeing robust growth.

"Healthcare employers need to step up next year, knowing they will be training their future workforce," Dickinson says. She points to entry-level roles like personal care and nursing assistants as viable pathways that Step Up could help facilitate, leading to high-paying careers in medical technology and nursing.

From the mentor perspective, Rene Madrid, manager of the U.S. Bank office on East Lake Street, views the program as essential for community stability. An immigrant from El Salvador and a University of Minnesota graduate, Madrid has mentored over 50 interns since 2010.

"Some of my top bankers, and I have 20 direct reports here, started as interns," Madrid says. His office sits across from the Midtown Global Market, a symbol of the neighborhood’s revitalization. "They all learn about our business, customer relationships, making professional connections, personal finance, and money management. That’s good for all their futures."

Implications: The High Cost of a "Lost Generation" of Workers

The stakes for Minnesota go beyond individual success stories. DEED data indicates that the state’s incremental population and workforce growth since the early 2000s has been driven almost entirely by people of color and immigrants. If these demographic groups are shut out of early-career opportunities, the entire state’s economic engine could stall.

The story of Mike Archer, 27, serves as a powerful illustration of the program’s long-term ROI. Raised by a single mother with a disability who earned just $14,000 a year, Archer used Step Up to avoid "negative influences" in his neighborhood. He started by picking up litter and performing maintenance in local parks for $7.24 an hour.

"I wasn’t just running around the neighborhood," Archer says. "I became a mentor… I was responsible. I bought my own first phone and some clothes. My job gave my mom a break."

Archer was never a "top" student, but the discipline he learned through Step Up carried him through Dunwoody Technical College. Today, he is a journeyman electrician and a foreman, earning $63 an hour. "I’ll make over $100,000 this year. I own a home. I’m blessed," he says.

The transition of Mike Archer from a $7-an-hour park worker to a six-figure homeowner and taxpayer is the ultimate argument for Step Up. When companies pull back from these programs, they aren’t just saving on a summer salary; they are potentially severing the pipeline to the next generation of skilled tradespeople, managers, and civic leaders.

As Minneapolis looks toward 2026, the challenge for city leaders and the business community will be to recapture the "cheerleader" spirit of the Rybak-Davis era. Without a concerted effort to adapt the internship model to the hybrid work era and resist the chilling effect of political pressure, the path from the North Side to the Fortune 500 may become increasingly difficult to navigate. For the thousands of students currently on the Step Up waiting list, the future of the program is not just a policy debate—it is their best shot at the American dream.