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San Francisco Job Corps Students Face Uncertain Future

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Isborn Ackerson (center left), in cement construction training, and Ray Moore, carpentry, lead a chant during a with students, staff, and supporters at a protest outside the Treasure Island Job Corps Center in San Francisco on June 5, 2025, protesting the facility’s upcoming closure, which they say could leave at-risk youth homeless. (Beth LaBerge/KQED)

Driving over the Bay Bridge into San Francisco, the vast, mostly barren compound that’s home to the Treasure Island Job Corps Center doesn’t look like much.

But students gaining certifications in culinary arts, construction, hospitality and other blue-collar careers at the trade school say it has been a lifeline for more than 20 years.

Since 1999, thousands of low-income youth and young adults have gotten high school diplomas and trade certifications while living and working at the federally funded site. Now, more than 350 who were enrolled as of last week are at risk of losing that lifeline in the coming weeks, as the Department of Labor plans to pause operations at Job Corps centers across the country.

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“Many of us have nowhere to go,” said Eddie Lopez, 19, one of dozens of students, staff members and community advocates who gathered Thursday to protest the termination.

Lopez came to the center four months ago, after couch surfing in the East Bay and trying to find a job to support himself.

Students, staff and supporters rally outside the Treasure Island Job Corps Center in San Francisco on June 5, 2025, protesting the facility’s upcoming closure, which they say could leave at-risk youth homeless. (Beth LaBerge/KQED)

“We came here with nothing — no job, no home, no support system — and now they expect us to find something in a couple of days. It’s just really heartbreaking and horrifying and inhumane,” he said.

Lopez and other students at Treasure Island found out last week that they would need to leave the island after the Department of Labor announced it would indefinitely pause operations at the end of June at the vast majority of its 131 trade schools that offer free schooling, housing and healthcare to low-income 16 to 24 year olds.

Department of Labor Secretary Lori Chavez-DeRemer said in a statement that the department had reviewed the program and determined that it was “no longer achieving the intended outcomes that students deserve,” based on a review of serious incident reports at Job Corps sites and the financial impact of the program, which operated with a $140 million deficit in 2024.

About 250 of the 375 students who resided on Treasure Island prior to the DOL’s announcement have already left, and more are preparing to leave by the end of the week, according to Lacy Barnes, a representative for the Union of Teachers and Classified Professionals, which represents the center’s employees.

A similar exodus has happened at the San José Job Corps site, where another 350 students found out last Thursday that their program would be shut down, and some were told to pack their bags within days.

Other students, including Lopez, plan to stay on campus until they’re forced to leave.

On Wednesday, a federal judge granted a temporary restraining order to a trade group representing Job Corps center operators suing the Department of Labor over its abrupt announcement, ordering the department not to pause work or terminate agreements with contractors until a further ruling. The order lasts through June 17, when a hearing is scheduled in the case.

Even if U.S. District Judge Andrew Carter grants the contractors an injunction that would extend until the case could be decided in court, Barnes worries that the chaos over the last week cannot be rectified.

Frank Lara, executive vice president of United Educators of San Francisco, speaks during a rally outside the Treasure Island Job Corps Center in San Francisco on June 5, 2025, protesting the facility’s upcoming closure, which they say could leave at-risk youth homeless. (Beth LaBerge/KQED)

“The damage that’s incurred — we can’t recoup that,” she said.

Many of the students who come to job corps centers escaped difficult home situations or were previously unhoused, and are at heightened risk if they are forced to return to those circumstances.

Isaiah Moncrease, who recently completed the culinary program at Treasure Island, said without it, he isn’t sure he would see a future where he has a legal job.

“I got into gang life, I sold drugs, and I almost ended up in jail multiple times,” he said. “This program not only saved my life, but saved the lives of countless other students.”

Before coming to Job Corps, Moncrease said he and his siblings had been moved around nine states and more than 50 counties by his mother, who was struggling with drug addiction.

“She went wherever the drugs were, and we went with her,” he told KQED.

Colleen Jeffers, president of the Council of Classified Employees (CFT), listens to speakers during a rally outside the Treasure Island Job Corps Center in San Francisco on June 5, 2025, protesting the facility’s upcoming closure, which they say could leave at-risk youth homeless. (Beth LaBerge/KQED)

Eventually, he landed in Antioch with his father, where he said he was abused. Job Corps gave him an escape.

“In the last eight months, I have completed my culinary trade, I have got my managers and my food handler certificates, and I’ve been taught how to stand strong and proud and be who I am,” he said.

The center also provided a second chance for the Pierson-Jurik family.

Annette Pierson and Kathryn Jurik gave their daughter Eren a choice last year: go to Job Corps, or find a place to live on her own, without their help.

“We were having family difficulties, and we were trying to help our daughter launch,” Jurik said. “Things were getting really rough, and we gave her the choice.”

While Eren’s been at the center, they’ve been able to repair their family relationship. Eren was able to finish her trade program last week, and on Friday, she’s moving back to her parents’ house in Santa Rosa, with new guardrails in place to ensure they can live together healthily.

“I have a sign that says, ‘Job Corps saved my family,’ because we were deteriorating,” Jurik said. “Now we can be together, and spend time and talk. … we can sit around and have adult conversations and she can bring her friends home.”

She and others hope the program can continue: “It’s priceless. Whatever it costs is priceless for one kid,” she told KQED.

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