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• High schoolers account for nearly half the student population at the University of Wisconsin-Oshkosh – the largest number of dual enrollment students in the state. 

• As the traditional college-age population shrinks, dual enrollment courses have surged in popularity, transforming UW-Oshkosh’s identity. 

• Few high schoolers who take college courses at UW-Oshkosh decide to attend the university for their undergraduate studies, a trend officials are making efforts to change.

When University of Wisconsin-Oshkosh lecturer Paul Sager logs onto Zoom every Monday, Wednesday and Friday to teach his composition course, he asks his students to paste in the chat what emoji they feel like that day. 

If it’s cold outside, they might send a snowflake, or if they’re feeling motivated, a rocket ship. 

“They find that really fun and ice-breaking,” Sager said. “Feeling connected to your professor, I believe, is an extremely important part of being invested in a course, especially when it’s at the college level.”

That’s especially important for Sager, who has never met most of his students in the flesh, and likely never will.

At UW-Oshkosh, high schoolers make up nearly half of the student body. Many of them live hours away and never actually step foot on campus, instead taking the college courses from their high schools. 

It’s an increasingly popular dynamic as dual enrollment classes — where high schoolers simultaneously earn high school and college credit — soar in popularity and the typical college-aged population shrinks. But UW-Oshkosh enrolls more high schoolers than any university in the state, an endeavor that’s transforming the college’s identity.

The approach has helped UW-Oshkosh combat the big enrollment declines Wisconsin universities have seen in recent years. 

But as more colleges tap into the dual enrollment trend, the state’s fourth-largest UW campus is facing stiffer competition for these students. On top of that, few of them currently continue their education at UW-Oshkosh after high school. College leaders want that to change.

“As the competitive landscape that we operate in gets more competitive, and as the number of total high school students in Wisconsin continues to go down, it’s going to be more important that we get more and more of these students to choose UW-O as their four-year solution, as well,” said Provost and Vice Chancellor for Academic Affairs Edwin Martini. 

A service and a strategy

Dual enrollment is now rapidly taking root across the country, but UW-Oshkosh was ahead of the curve when it launched its program 50 years ago. 

Today, over 6,500 high schoolers get a jump start on college through the university’s Cooperative Academic Partnership Program, dubbed “CAPP.” In most cases, UW-Oshkosh authorizes qualified high school teachers — typically those with graduate degrees in their subject areas — to teach CAPP courses at their own schools. 

Just five UW-Oshkosh professors, Sager included, teach courses to high schoolers virtually. This allows them to reach more rural schools that otherwise lack access to dual enrollment courses, often because they don’t have qualified instructors or enough resources. 

“Given the opportunity to teach these courses, I jumped on it … It’s definitely a calling,” Sager said.

The university charges high schools about half the typical tuition costs for the classes. Students considered economically disadvantaged by the state get added discounts. Each school district decides how it passes the cost of books and tuition onto students. 

If students choose not to attend UW-Oshkosh after graduation, their credits can transfer to 200 other colleges.

Over the past decade, the number of students doing dual enrollment through UW-Oshkosh has nearly doubled. While that mirrors nationwide growth, UW-Oshkosh has leaned fully into the trend, hoping to attract as many students as possible across Wisconsin — and, in some cases, beyond.

“The simple truth is, if Oshkosh didn’t do it, somebody else would,” Sager said. “It’s something that I believe at Oshkosh they’ve really understood as not only a moneymaker, but just an opportunity.”

To attract students, program leaders call schools to tell them about the program and advertise at teacher conferences around the state. But largely, word of mouth and its status as the state’s oldest help win school leaders’ trust. CAPP is the only Wisconsin program accredited by the National Alliance of Concurrent Enrollment Partnerships, an organization holding universities accountable to offering dual enrollment courses as rigorous as normal college courses.

“We’ve had, more than ever, people reaching out to us to get involved,” said CAPP Outreach Specialist Sarah Adelson. 

Today, 45% of UW-Oshkosh students are high schoolers, a phenomenon more common at community colleges than universities. Statewide, high schoolers are just 10% of university enrollment, compared to 1 in 3 community college students.

The dual enrollment growth has been, in many ways, a saving grace for the college. 

Like other Wisconsin universities, UW-Oshkosh has lost thousands of traditional college students — those enrolling after high school graduation — over the past decade. Dual enrollment has helped offset that loss. Overall enrollment is down 9%, but without the high school students, enrollment would be down closer to 36%.

“For us, in part, it is a service. It is something that we’re proud of doing and providing these opportunities to students,” Martini said. “But we do consider our dual enrollment portfolio very much part of our strategic enrollment management portfolio.”

A shifting college experience

Walking across the UW-Oshkosh campus, it’s not immediately obvious how much the student body has changed in recent years.

Classrooms are still filled with what many would consider “typical” college students. Sidewalks bustle with students walking to class. Finding parking can still be competitive.

But in recent years, as more students take classes without setting foot on campus, the university has undergone some noticeable changes: The campus-run bookstore closed. Satellite locations in Appleton and Fond du Lac shut down because of enrollment declines. During a budget crunch, leaders offered voluntary retirement to roughly 50 faculty. And three dorm buildings are slated for demolition, as they no longer need as much space to house students living on campus.  

Teagan Massey-Plamann, a senior at Menasha High School, takes UW-Oshkosh’s dual enrollment courses from about 20 minutes away but has visited campus only once.

“It may not be the experience of being on campus and everything, but I still kind of get to see what the curriculums will look like, and how much studying I’ll need to do,” Massey-Plamann said.

As dual enrollment continues to expand, it raises broader questions about what will define the college experience. While the typical experience most think of is by no means dead, Sager said, it seems pretty rare nowadays.

“All of them, I think, also seek that personal connection with faculty and wanting to have an on-campus experience in one way, shape or form … I don’t know if there is a ‘definition’ for what a college experience even is anymore,” Sager said.

For some, the experience of being a professor has shifted, too — teaching high schoolers is a different task than teaching students a few years older, Sager said. 

“It really is about trying to meet them at their level and understand that, and also apply a little bit of pedagogical changes, so that the assignments mean more to them, and they feel more invested in it,” Sager said.

Great colleges think alike?

When Massey-Plamann graduates from high school this spring, she’ll already have a head start on college, thanks to her UW-Oshkosh dual enrollment courses in statistics, calculus and biology.

“It’s just getting me in the mindset that I’m going to be doing more classes like this next year,” the aspiring art therapist said. “They’re not going to be just classes where I can just sit and do nothing because I get all my work done really quickly. It’s getting me prepared for that time management.” 

That head start will save her both money and stress as she heads to St. Cloud State University in Minnesota to play softball.

Like Massey-Plamann, most UW-Oshkosh dual enrollment students don’t continue their education there after high school. Only about 10% do. 

University leaders want to change that. 

While Adelson said students historically “just come to us,” that’s changing as other Wisconsin colleges try to ride the dual enrollment wave. At the University of Wisconsin-Green Bay, high schoolers now make up about a third of enrollment. Just 20 miles away from UW-Oshkosh, half of the 8,000 students at Moraine Park Technical College are still in high school.

In response, UW-Oshkosh leaders are stepping up recruitment efforts — they’re offering classes other universities don’t, awarding at least $1,000 scholarships to those who enroll the following fall and funding more campus visits for high schoolers.

But UW-Oshkosh leaders acknowledge there don’t seem to be many students left to go after — the pool of college-bound students may already be tapped. CAPP Director Margaret Hostetler said their next push is for students who aren’t planning to attend college at all. They wonder if dual enrollment could change their mind. 

The university is also ramping up advising services, pointing students toward courses that will actually benefit them in the future.

“We don’t want students just taking every single dual enrollment credit they can because that’s not necessarily saving them time or money,” Hostetler said. “To save time and money, you have to have a class that is going to transfer as a course that you will need in your field of study.”

They’ve ramped up marketing efforts to remind dual enrollment students that “they are Titans,” Martini said, mailing them branded T-shirts, banners and posters for teachers to hang in their high school classrooms. 

“What we want is them to have a great experience, and then that builds their affinity with UW-O,” Martini said. “And then they say … ‘Now I want to go to Oshkosh. Now I want to be a Titan.’”

Miranda Dunlap reports on pathways to success in northeast Wisconsin, working in partnership with Open Campus. Email her at mdunlap@wisconsinwatch.org.

At one Wisconsin university, nearly half the students are still in high school is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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On a rainy Friday afternoon, I walked into the Manitowoc County Jail. I asked tentatively into the metal box at the door: “I’m here to see Randy Curtis?”

I was there to deliver a simple message. What I stumbled into was something much larger, a reality I had not previously fully understood.

Randy had missed a few shifts without calling in. His supervisor looked for him where we sometimes do when an employee disappears without a word: the inmate list at the county jail. Sure enough, there was his name.

Randy is a knockout pourer at Wisconsin Aluminum Foundry, doing hard physical work for $27.53 an hour – good money, the kind that, if you’re careful and nothing goes wrong, can be the beginning of something. He had spent years rebuilding his life in Manitowoc after a troubled young adulthood in Milwaukee. He had a girlfriend. He was saving for a car. Then an old legal matter surfaced, along with a small claims debt.

It is not uncommon for our employees to find themselves in jail. Often it’s a DUI, delinquent child support or drugs. The ones who don’t have money for bail spend weeks or months awaiting resolution. Usually in these situations we let the employment relationship expire.

But Randy’s supervisor called me: “We have to keep his job for him.” Of course we would. But how would we let him know? I pictured him in that cell, cut off from the outside world, assuming he had lost his job and maybe his apartment and girlfriend too, watching his precarious new life crash down.

I went to tell him myself.

The corrections officer was polite but matter-of-fact. I could not see the inmate in person. To speak with him, I would need to create an account on a third-party video service, deposit money, schedule a window and wait.

I am a CEO. I work on computers all day. It still took me the better part of an hour to figure it all out.

The service was called CIDNET, operated by Encartele, a corporation in Nebraska. The site defaulted to a purchase of 150 megabytes at 30 cents per megabyte. That’s $45, before a “Data Security Token” fee and a 5% merchant surcharge on top. I put $10 on the account, enough for a few minutes. On Sunday evening I logged on, saw Randy on a small screen and quickly told him his job was waiting. He looked relieved.

I want to be fair. Someone has to pay for that infrastructure. The same logic applies to bank overdraft fees and payday loan rates. Even the $2.59 Snickers bar in our plant vending machine, nearly four times what my family pays at Costco, is bought by a worker without the time or transportation to shop elsewhere. Each of these charges is, on its own terms, defensible. Together they amount to something else: a compounding tax on not having enough.

Being poor, it turns out, is expensive.

Randy made it through. Another of our employees didn’t fare as well.

I’ll call him Michael. He had spent his entire life in America, brought here as a small child. He was a DACA recipient – a “Dreamer” – tantalizingly close to getting his papers in order for permanent residency, but first he had to navigate old speeding tickets, lawyer fees, court dates and filing costs. He had a newborn and two toddlers at home. He could not even afford a cellphone. Outside of work, he reached me through Facebook Messenger when he could find Wi-Fi.

The fees accumulated the way fees do: the lawyer, the filings, the court dates that cost him wages he couldn’t replace, the paid leave that drained away appointment by appointment. Everything was a small thing.

But Michael had no margin for small things.

The weight of it followed him onto the shop floor. He grew distracted, made mistakes — costly ones in a manufacturing environment — and we had to let him go. I think about that a lot.

The word I keep coming back to is margin. In business, margin is everything. The difference between a company that survives a bad few years and one that doesn’t is not always the size of the problem. It is the cushion beneath it.

Families have margins, too.

A salaried employee who gets a DUI posts bond and goes home. She takes a long lunch for a dental appointment and loses nothing. When life disrupts her, it disrupts her. When life disrupts Randy or Michael, there is no category called disruption. There is functioning, and there is collapse. A car breaks down, the flu strikes, child care closes unexpectedly — attendance points rack up, the job is suddenly in jeopardy, and the carefully assembled structure of a life starts to come apart.

What I find remarkable is not that Randy and Michael sometimes stumble. It’s that they hold everything together as long as they do, maintaining a level of daily discipline against a backdrop of distress that most of us will never be tested to match.

My 8-year-old and I have been reading about black holes. The closer you get, the more energy you need to escape – until escape becomes physically impossible. That is what I witnessed. Not a failure of will. A gravitational pull that compounds with every setback, every fee, every missed day. 

There is a threshold, call it escape velocity, below which the system’s small relentless extractions become unsurvivable. My former college professor Lisa Dodson, who spent years embedded with low-income workers across the country, calls this the “house of cards” – the architecture of poverty where there is no redundancy, no reserve, no margin for the ordinary turbulence of a human life.

So what can we do? At Wisconsin Aluminum Foundry, we’ve introduced daily pay so workers can access wages as they earn them rather than waiting two weeks. We offer $400 per month in child care reimbursement, structured specifically to help newer, younger employees.

Most traditional benefits – vacation time, tenure-based wage levels, pension plans – naturally favor workers already on solid footing. Our most expensive benefit, health care, is the one our youngest and lowest-paid employees use the least. We can design benefit structures with that reality in mind, and we are trying.

These are imperfect responses to a structural problem. They are what one employer can do.

On policy, cash bail reform deserves serious attention. In theory, judges already weigh risk when setting bail. In practice, a $500 bail amount means freedom for one person and months in jail for another. A system that makes that distinction irrelevant might have kept Randy’s life from nearly unraveling.

The full set of public policy answers is beyond my grasp. But what I do know is that the national conversation about affordability — housing, gas, airfares — is largely about the middle class. Randy and Michael aren’t worried about buying a house. They are fighting for the basic foothold that most of us take entirely for granted.

My parents came to this country with very little and found the American Dream to be real. I believe it can still be real. Randy believed in it enough to leave Milwaukee and start over in a city where no one knew him. Michael believed in it enough to show up every single day while his entire future hung on a bureaucratic decision somewhere.

Just this week, JPMorgan Chase announced its “American Dream Initiative” aimed at strengthening small businesses, homeownership and economic mobility – a recognition that the American Dream is not self-sustaining and requires constant effort from institutions large and small.

At our holiday party earlier this year, my wife and I spotted Randy across the room — arm around his girlfriend, at a table full of co-workers, dressed in his best, laughing. 

Michael messaged me last week. He’s been out of work for two months, getting by on his wife’s income. He said he’s going to reapply at the foundry. When he does, we’ll take him back.

Neither story is finished yet. They haven’t reached escape velocity. But they are defying gravity, every single day.

Sachin Shivaram is the chief executive officer of Wisconsin Aluminum Foundry in Manitowoc.

Opinion: How poverty’s gravity pulls workers under is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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A northeast Wisconsin anti-poverty nonprofit plans to close later this year amid serious financial challenges and the loss of a government contract.

For more than 50 years, Newcap has operated in 10 counties. It serves low-income residents and is funded primarily through state and federal grants.

The agency served more than 25,000 people in 2022. Its programs range from employment and job training to educational support, financial coaching, health and food assistance, housing services, home repair and case management, according to an annual report.

Housing advocates say Newcap’s closure could lead to northeast Wisconsin losing more than $2.7 million in federal funding and leave more than 100 households at risk of losing housing.

In a statement, Newcap interim Executive Director Deb Barlament said the organization has faced “significant financial challenges” in recent months and has implemented staffing reductions and other cost-saving measures in response.

“At this time, the organization anticipates closing its doors sometime this year,” Barlament stated. “A more specific timeline will be determined as we work through existing grant obligations and funder requirements.”

Barlament’s statement says the organization hopes to “responsibly wind down operations” and is “actively collaborating with other organizations and funders to help ensure that services continue to be available to the communities we serve.”

It comes after a 2025 financial audit by accounting firm Baker Tilly found the organization had a more than $2 million deficit in 2024. The audit raised “substantial doubt about the Organization’s ability to continue operating,” citing recurring deficits, negative cash flow and reduced liquidity.

The state is conducting “enhanced financial monitoring” of the nonprofit, which includes comprehensive financial and program reviews, as well as reviews of financial documentation.

In a statement, the Wisconsin Department of Administration said the state has been working with Newcap to address its use and repayment of Weatherization Assistance Program funds for the 2025-26 program year. The program provides home weatherization assistance to low-income individuals.

The audit shows that in 2024 Newcap spent about $5.1 million for weatherization programs.

“Approximately 28% and 26% of the Organization’s grants revenue and grants receivable, respectively, were generated by weatherization and emergency furnace programs funded by the Wisconsin Department of Administration,” the audit states.

On March 13, the DOA informed Newcap that it “could not in good faith” renew the nonprofit’s weatherization contract for the next program year “given the current financial situation at Newcap and outstanding funds the agency must repay,” according to the statement.

The statement does not specify why the agency needs to repay the funds, or the specific dollar amount of that repayment.

“Working with our federal partners to administer grant programs requires DOA to assess potential risks of grantees,” the statement read. “Though Newcap has recently taken steps to address overhead costs and operating cash flow, Newcap’s financial viability remains uncertain.”

The Department of Administration says it is working with Wiscap, a statewide network of anti-poverty nonprofits, and other agencies to ensure services continue to be provided in northeast Wisconsin.

Wiscap did not respond to requests for comment about what happens when a Community Action Program, or CAP, agency — like Newcap — closes.

Millions in funding at risk if federal contracts can’t be transferred

Carrie Poser is executive director of the Wisconsin Balance of State Continuum of Care, a nonprofit that coordinates housing and supportive services for individuals and families experiencing homelessness across 69 of Wisconsin’s 72 counties.

She said Newcap administers four U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development grants, which provide support services to 134 households across its 10-county service area, with 84 of those in Brown County.

Poser said local service groups want to take over those federal housing grants. But she said HUD officials in Milwaukee and Washington, D.C., have told her they are not processing grant transfers.

That puts the 134 households currently using those programs at risk of losing their housing and becoming homeless, she said.

“We have humans that, for no fault of their own, look at returning to homelessness that we can prevent,” she said. “It’s not because we don’t have agencies. It’s not because we don’t have the ability to do the work.”

If those grants aren’t transferred, she said more than $2.7 million — including more than $1.6 million in federal funding to Brown County — could be permanently lost from the 10 counties Newcap serves.

“It will be harder for those communities to ever get new money in this way again,” Poser said. “It’s just harder to get a grant once you’ve lost one by HUD.”

She said Wisconsin Balance of State Continuum of Care plans to move forward with filing paperwork with the federal government necessary to transfer the grants, but she isn’t sure if the effort will be successful.

The U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development did not respond to questions about the potential loss of federal funding to northeast Wisconsin.

Laurie Styron is executive director of CharityWatch, a Chicago-based independent charity watchdog. She said Newcap serves a large geographic area, so its closure is likely to put more strain on other area nonprofits and agencies that provide similar services.

“Help that someone in need may have received from Newcap could become fragmented and require people who are already struggling to seek out services from different agencies, rather than just one,” she said. “The remaining providers in the area could see longer wait lists and reduced quality of care.”

Newcap is also closing three year-round homeless shelters, two in Green Bay and one in Shawano, by March 31, Barlament said via email.

Tara Prahl is chair of the Brown County Homeless and Housing Coalition and director of social services for the nonprofit Ecumenical Partnership for Housing. She said Newcap’s closure, including the loss of two homeless shelters in Green Bay, could have “a significant impact to our community,” especially if the government funding Newcap was receiving doesn’t remain in the area.

“All of our homeless service providers are at capacity,” she said. “This is only going to hit a little bit harder for those that are already feeling this.”

Prahl also said Newcap’s closure makes it more important for the Brown County community to take steps to address homelessness and its housing shortage.

In Shawano, Newcap provided one of only two homeless shelters in the community. Shawano Area Matthew 25, or Sam25, provided the other.

Kendra Brusewitz, executive director of Sam25, said her shelter is only open from mid-October to mid-May as an overnight emergency shelter. She also said Sam25 has often partnered with Newcap.

“They help service the homeless families in our community year-round, so if we were full we could connect with them and get (people) services over there, or vice versa,” Brusewitz said. “Not having that partnership is a concern.”

CEO placed on leave no longer employed by Newcap

Newcap’s announced closure also comes after the organization placed its former CEO Cheryl Detrick on administrative leave in February. 

A Newcap official confirmed via email that Detrick is no longer employed by the organization. Of the 15 CAP agencies in Wisconsin with executive salaries listed in tax filings, Detrick had the highest compensation at $239,641 in 2024.

Detrick was placed on leave amid reports from WLUK-TV alleging the organization misused taxpayer dollars.

Two Democratic Green Bay-area state lawmakers issued statements last month calling for an investigation into the organization’s use of taxpayer funds.

In Barlament’s statement, she said Newcap is aware of “questions regarding accountability for what has occurred” at the nonprofit. She said the organization is “committed to doing everything we can to address the situation and move forward responsibly.”

U.S. Reps. Tony Wied, R-De Pere, and Bryan Steil, R-Janesville, sent a letter on March 12 to the secretary of the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development calling for a federal investigation into Newcap.

“Money that should have gone towards helping Wisconsinites find safe and stable housing may have instead padded executive salaries and funded staff outings,” the federal lawmakers wrote. 

Poser said she’s contacted Wied and Steil’s offices for help getting HUD funding transferred from Newcap to different nonprofits but has not received a response. 

She said she’s reached out to the rest of Wisconsin’s congressional delegation for assistance in persuading HUD to allow for the transfers.

“We absolutely need a nonpartisan show of support around this issue,” she said. “Folks in need are in need regardless of what political party they belong to.”

This story was originally published by WPR.

Nonprofit closure could cost northeast Wisconsin $2.7M, put 134 households at risk is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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Wisconsin Watch was founded 17 years ago to fill a gap in statewide investigative reporting as newsrooms cut back on that work. Since then, those gaps have only widened — especially in local communities. That’s led us to expand: joining forces with Milwaukee Neighborhood News Service and now launching our northeast Wisconsin bureau, because the region deserves strong, independent journalism and a newsroom that listens as much as it reports.

This is home.

I started as Wisconsin Watch’s northeast Wisconsin editor in August, joining Jessica Adams, director of partnerships for northeast Wisconsin, and Miranda Dunlap, our northeast Wisconsin pathways to success reporter. Since then, I’ve had the chance to reacquaint myself with my native Door County and the surrounding region.

From big cities like Appleton and Green Bay to small rural communities, people are asking for clearer information about the systems that affect daily life, along with coverage that connects problems to action. We know that because northeast Wisconsin residents have said so in listening sessions and conversations across the region.

Mental health access, housing and homelessness continue to rise to the top, alongside confusion about how local government works and how residents can get involved. Many residents have asked for reporting that explains budgets, decision-making and available programs in plain terms, while also reflecting the experiences of communities that are often overlooked.

There is also strong interest in news that builds connection, corrects misinformation and highlights both accountability and everyday efforts that make a difference.

That’s what we aim to deliver through Northeast News — a newsletter shaped by and for the people who live here. Launched this week, it’s the first product of our regional bureau, built around community connection, accountability and public participation.

Delivered every other week to start, subscribers will get more than headlines. They will receive reporting that explains how local decisions affect daily life, investigates powerful institutions, and highlights the people and ideas moving this region forward. Subscribers also get a direct line to the newsroom — to share questions, tips and story ideas that help guide the work.

More than 110 northeast Wisconsin residents helped name the newsletter. Northeast News prevailed over options that included The NEWsletter, NEWsflash, Northeast Dispatch and NEW Notes.

Residents submitted creative write-ins, too — from The Weekly Cheddar to Northeastern Exposure.

Those who care about strong, independent journalism in northeast Wisconsin can subscribe to join the conversation.

Wisconsin Watch launches Northeast News to strengthen local journalism in northeast Wisconsin is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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• St. Vincent de Paul-Madison started a microloan program in 2023 and has so far made nearly $100,000 in loans to 50 people.  

• Word spread about the program, and leaders at St. Vincent de Paul-St. Thomas More Conference in Appleton decided to implement a similar initiative. 

• People must meet several criteria to be eligible for a low-interest microloan. 

• The local St. Vincent de Paul chapter financially supports the loan, and borrowers work with a partner bank to establish a bank account, get the funds and go through financial education. 

• However, the effort is not without risk. The Madison organization has had people default on their microloans, though leaders declined to say how many.

Mary T. had a $2,500 balance on her credit card. It came with a 26.9% interest rate.

“I wanted to be responsible and pay off my loan … but it was so hard to get it paid off,” the Madison resident said. 

Then, she heard about St. Vincent de Paul-Madison’s microloan program. If she qualified, the organization would pay the credit card loan and Mary would then pay back St. Vincent de Paul on a loan with a 4.3% interest rate through a local bank.

“It’s July 2027 that I’ll have it paid off,” Mary said. “It was not hard to go through the paperwork, and they were so nice to me throughout the whole process.”

Mary is one of about 50 people helped by St. Vincent de Paul’s microloan program since it started in late 2023. The Madison organization launched its initiative to help people living in poverty manage a one-time bill or pay off high-interest payday loans.

“People get trapped in these loans,” said Julie Bennett, CEO and executive director of St. Vincent de Paul-Madison. “They take out a loan to help with a car repair, for example, and the interest just grows. They then need another loan or need to extend the loan because they can’t pay the interest, and it just spirals.”

Since St. Vincent de Paul-Madison started its microloan program, the organization has made nearly $100,000 in loans, and word has spread. The St. Vincent de Paul-St. Thomas More Conference in Appleton launched its microloan program in February. 

“The first microloan we made was for someone who had an auto title loan with a 305% effective interest rate. He had a $1,500 loan, and we were able to get him down to a 5% interest rate,” Bennett said.

Finding an alternative to payday loans

The Madison organization’s leaders learned about microloan programs offered by St. Vincent de Paul conferences in Columbus, Ohio, and Dallas, Texas, after attending national events. Members thought it was a great program they could bring back to Wisconsin, which has some of the highest average payday loan interest rates in the nation. A report from The Pew Charitable Trusts found state residents pay an average of $395 in fees and interest when repaying a $500 loan after four months, for an interest rate of 338%.

As the Madison organization’s leaders worked on the 2019-2022 strategic plan, Bennett said creating a microloan program was included on the to-do list. They looked at other microloan programs and struggled at first to understand the complexity of banking. St. Vincent de Paul-Madison created a task force that included financial representatives who helped them understand how the loan process would work. Representatives from local organizations that work with those living in poverty also joined the task force. 

While St. Vincent de Paul-Madison provides the money for the loans, its leaders must partner with financial institutions to process the loans and help create a positive lending experience for the borrower’s credit report. The Bank of Sun Prairie signed on as the organization’s first banking partner in 2023, with Lake Ridge Bank joining in 2025. 

“We needed a financial partner to take care of all the loan documentation and to make sure the loan was on (the borrower’s) record,” Bennett said. “If they pay off the loan successfully, it looks good on their credit record and gives them something to build on.”

Microloan recipients must meet several requirements to qualify, including being a Dane County resident, having a monthly household income at or below 300% of the federal poverty level, being willing to have a bank account and having a monthly debt-to-income ratio under 47%.

As part of the program, loans range from $400 to $2,500. Borrowers receive low-interest rates between 4% and 8% and set up flexible repayment plans over two years through local banks. 

“We see the microloans as an alternative to payday loans for people who need money but have no other source to go to,” Bennett said. “We also see the microloans as a way to pay off those payday loans, which cause immediate and long-term harm to borrowers since the interest rates keep going up.”

Borrowers also receive financial education and support to help them avoid similar situations in the future. Bennett said St. Vincent de Paul-Madison wanted to provide that education with a sensitive approach. The University of Wisconsin-Extension’s Financial Education program developed training for the microlending team so they could have sensitive, discreet conversations.

“No one likes talking to strangers about their money, and it’s even harder when their financial condition is precarious,” she said.

The microloan program carries some risk for St. Vincent de Paul-Madison. If borrowers default on their loans, the organization is on the hook for paying them off. Unfortunately, that has happened, though Bennett declined to share how many people have defaulted. 

To Mary, being able to get her interest rate to a predictable and manageable number was vital.

“I just know how much I need to pay without the total … going up all the time, with the interest … growing,” she said. “I felt I was never making any progress with the payments. Now, I can see when it’s all going to be paid off, and I know I’m going to get it done.”

An example to others

The Madison team paid their experience forward, and leaders from an Appleton organization took notice.

Karen Rickert, a member of St. Vincent de Paul-St. Thomas More Conference, heard Bennett speak about Madison’s microloan program at an event. In her years as a volunteer, Rickert saw many people caught living paycheck to paycheck. A woman who was hit with a car repair bill and turned to a payday lender stuck with Rickert.

“The repair costs were more than what we could help with. She couldn’t go to work because she didn’t have a working car. She couldn’t take her kids to school because she didn’t have a car. She eventually had to take out one of those terrible payday loans,” Rickert said. “I felt terrible about it, but it sprung me into action.” 

Members from the Appleton organization met with Bennett and learned as much as possible about the Madison group’s microloan program. They put their bylaws and plans together. 

The next step? Raising $20,000 to serve as security for the loans. Thanks to a grant and donations, they nearly doubled their goal.

Nicolet Bank signed on as the financial institution. Rickert said the organization has several volunteers who used to work in finance and banking. They “walk hand-in-hand with our borrowers through the process to help address any issues before they become a problem,” she said. 

For organizations looking to start their own microloan programs, Bennett and Rickert recommended talking to groups with their own initiatives and being prepared to ask a lot of questions. The St. Thomas More Conference learned a lot by talking with the Madison organization and others as they put their microloan program together, Rickert said.

“It was a lot of work and took us a while to get it going, but it was worth it,” she said.

With everything in place, the Appleton organization made its first microloan in February.

“It’s amazing to see this all come together and now we’re able to help people get loans at a reasonable rate and help steer them away from payday loans,” Rickert said. “We’re helping them get a step ahead.”

Learn more: Visit the St. Vincent de Paul-St. Thomas More Conference website at www.svdpappleton.org/other-ways-we-help to request assistance.

Madison microloan program inspires Appleton organization is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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• Jobs for data centers happen in three phases: development, construction and operations. 

• The largest numbers of workers are on site when a data center is being built, experts said. 

• The number of long-term jobs a data center brings depends on the size of the facility. 

• It’s difficult to measure the ripple effects data centers have on the economy; however, experts say local businesses can benefit from producing components and products for data centers. 

• Data center technicians will be in high demand as more facilities come online.

As data center developers stake out land in Wisconsin communities, much debate has surrounded whether the computer-packed warehouses will deliver economic benefits locally. 

Waves of opposition and concerns about land, water and electricity use routinely follow data center proposals, while supporters echo that the centers will create jobs and help the economy. 

But what jobs? How many of them? And will they last?

To answer those questions, Wisconsin Watch talked to three professors:

• Xiaofan Liang, who specializes in urban and regional planning at the University of Michigan.
• Scott Adams, a University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee labor economist. 
• Dijo Alexander, who specializes in information technology, digital transformation and artificial intelligence at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. 

Here are some takeaways.

What kinds of jobs do data centers bring?

Data center jobs fall into three major categories that represent phases in their creation: 

• Development
• Construction
• Operations

A data center first needs people to plan for its existence. Developers, engineers, designers and planners lay that groundwork. 

“The data center industry as an ecosystem is pretty big … When they first introduce a data center to a place, they have to figure out the design standard, how to construct all kinds of facilities, how it connects to city systems,” Liang said.

Then, developers must hire heaps of hands-on laborers to construct the gigantic warehouses from the ground up — the largest portion of workers needed in creating and operating a data center. Among other professions, this includes electricians, plumbers and pipefitters, carpenters, structural steel and iron workers, concrete workers and earth drillers.

The job boom from early phases fizzles out once the building is complete, Liang said. 

“(During) construction time, you usually have a lot more jobs — maybe 10 times in magnitude more so than operations,” Liang said. 

Operations jobs, fewer in quantity, are largely “unglamorous,” Adams said. 

Some of these roles have relatively low barriers to entry, such as maintenance workers and security guards. Meanwhile, electricians and HVAC workers are needed, considering that power and cooling are data centers’ “two most important inputs,” Adams said. 

Adams echoed a popular analogy likening data centers to warehouses full of rotting bananas that need constant cooling and replacing.

“You need banana technicians, more or less, that take the rotted bananas out and replace them with new bananas,” Adams said. “Now, granted, they’re much more expensive bananas in there, and they’re doing a whole lot, and it requires a little more expertise. But again that expertise, by and large, can be developed pretty quickly.”

Those workers will be data center technicians — people who install servers, replace hardware and cables, monitor systems and notice when things break down.

How many jobs do data centers bring? 

The number of jobs created depends on a data center’s size, Liang said.  

That can initially mean thousands of jobs at gargantuan developments like in Mount Pleasant. Microsoft says it has employed 3,000 people to construct the location, compared to 500 full-time workers once the plant is operating. But these numbers are expected to climb as the company constructs a cluster of additional centers at the site. 

Not all of these workers will be local. Given the temporary high demand, the projects will likely need out-of-town construction laborers who travel to the area and don’t stay long term.

Smaller projects will employ far fewer people. For a typical data center, Microsoft estimates it hires about 50 full-time employees. What those numbers mean for the local area depends on the community’s size. 

“In a bigger city, like Atlanta, it’s like a drop in the ocean, right? It doesn’t really affect much,” Liang said. “In a rural area, in a smaller town, hundreds of jobs … are a big deal.”

What about the trickle-down economic benefits? 

A sizable new employer entering communities could ripple across other nearby industries, though Liang notes this is hard to measure. 

“(A data center) just has such a big infrastructure need that trickles down in many different ways,” Liang said. “Now we need expanded utility infrastructure, grid, fiber, water, all these things. Construction of these infrastructure, even though it’s not directly related to (a) data center, could increase local employment in those areas.”

Inside a data center are “cabinets after cabinets of steel frames holding computers” that need to be built, Alexander said. This can boost local manufacturing, especially the metal fabrication industry. 

Wisconsin manufacturers have already begun cashing in on the construction boom nationwide. As Wisconsin Watch previously reported, just three Wisconsin companies alone have amassed more than $1 billion in equipment sales — such as motors, generators and cooling systems —  to data centers.

Massive developments like Microsoft’s in Mount Pleasant can potentially lead to a “tech corridor,” a cluster of warehouses and manufacturers near the data center they serve, Alexander said. 

“If we take the initiative and if we bring a few big enough component manufacturers, we can create locally created components for these data centers to consume,” Alexander said. “It’s like if you have a big restaurant or food manufacturer here, you will have agriculture around there, because it is easy for you to bring your produce for their consumption. Just like that. ”

The trend could also activate industries like nuclear power, Adams said. Building data centers  in conjunction with nuclear reactors to generate their power would fuel even more construction and energy jobs, he added. In Kewaunee County, an energy company wants to rebuild Kewaunee Power Station, a defunct nuclear power plant, anticipating energy demand from AI and data centers.

In more rural communities or near smaller data centers, the trickle-down effects could prove more modest — perhaps a few new restaurants and housing units, Adams said. 

Alexander also noted the effects could also be less concentrated, with growth spilling into neighboring cities as employees work at the center but live elsewhere.

But will enough permanent jobs be created to sustain the growth sparked during the early labor-intensive development phase? That’s unclear, Adams said. 

“We don’t have a firm enough grasp about the indirect effects in the longer term,” Adams said. “Short run, that’ll be great. Longer run, can we sustain the new development that might happen around these? I don’t know the answer to that. I think if the power generation side of it comes in connection with them, there’s more of a chance that that will work.”

Who are data center technicians?

Data center technicians are perhaps the most novel job introduced by the data center boom. The roles are more specialized than others needed inside the warehouses.

Job postings for data center technicians at Microsoft’s Milwaukee location say the workers will be “preparing, installing, performing diagnostics, troubleshooting, replacing, and/or decommissioning equipment under the guidance of more experienced data center colleagues.” 

The posting states the job requires a high school diploma, knowledge of computer hardware and some experience with IT equipment. Pay for lower-level technicians ranges from $23 to $36 per hour, with more experienced workers making up to about $48 per hour.

Adams said likely candidates will include engineers and computer coders and people now entering college with their sights on data center work. Microsoft and Gateway Technical College in Kenosha launched a “Data Center Academy,” preparing students to work in data center operations. Adams believes partnerships like this will become more common.

Are these good jobs?

You can use the interactive table below to explore many of the jobs data centers are expected to create, including wages, employment totals and required education.

Here’s what the data center boom means for Wisconsin’s workforce is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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It’s midmorning in late February, and Bruce Smith is regaling two ice fishing buddies when a tug on his line interrupts the story.

“There we go!” he shouts as a shimmering 23-inch whitefish appears through a hole in the ice. “That’ll make a nice filet.”

No sooner has Smith tossed it into a cooler than his buddy Terry Gross reels in another one. Five minutes later came another bite, then another, until by 10:30 a.m. the trio had hauled in 15 fish — halfway to their daily limit, even after putting several back. 

Welcome to southern Green Bay. Or as Smith likes to call it, “Whitefish Town, USA.”

Once written off as too polluted to support many whitefish, the shallow, narrow bay in northwest Lake Michigan has produced an unlikely population boom in recent years, even as the iconic species vanishes from most of the lower Great Lakes. The collapse has dealt a blow to Michigan’s environment, culture, economy and dinner plates.

Oddly enough, nutrient pollution from farms and factories may help bolster the bay’s whitefish population, spawning a world-class recreational fishing scene while helping a handful of commercial fisheries in Michigan and Wisconsin stay afloat despite the collapse in the wider lake.

“This is a paradise,” Smith said. “The best fishing I can ever remember, for the species I want to catch.”

As scientists work to understand what makes Green Bay unique, their findings could aid whitefish recovery efforts throughout the Great Lakes. Michigan biologists, for example, have drawn inspiration from Green Bay’s sheltered, nutrient-rich waters as they attempt to transplant the state’s whitefish into areas with similar characteristics.

“Having places they (whitefish) are doing well … gives us context for the places that they aren’t doing well,” said Matt Herbert, a senior conservation scientist with the Nature Conservancy in Michigan. “It helps us to figure out, how can we intervene?”

But lately, sophisticated population models have shown fewer baby fish making their way into the Green Bay population, prompting worries that Lake Michigan’s last whitefish stronghold may be weakening.

A Great Lakes miracle

Not long ago, it seemed impossible that a fishery like this could ever exist in Green Bay.

Before the Clean Water Act of 1972 and subsequent cleanup efforts, paper mills along the lower Fox River — the bay’s largest tributary — dumped toxic polychlorinated biphenyls (PCBs) into the water without restraint while silty, fertilizer-soaked runoff poured off upstream farms.

Southern Green Bay was no place for “a self-respecting whitefish,” said Scott Hansen, senior fisheries biologist with the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources.

Lake Michigan’s much larger main basin, meanwhile, was full of them. 

Commercial fisherman Todd Stuth’s business got 80% of its catch from the open waters of Lake Michigan before the turn of the millenium. Now, 90% comes from Green Bay.

How did things change so dramatically?

First, invasive filter-feeding zebra and quagga mussels arrived in the Great Lakes from Eastern Europe and multiplied over decades, eventually monopolizing the nutrients and plankton that fish need to survive. Whitefish populations in lakes Michigan and Huron have tanked as a result.

Fortunately for Wisconsin and a sliver of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, Hansen said, “Southern Green Bay kept building.”

In the late 1990s, scientists began spotting the fish in Green Bay area rivers where they hadn’t been seen in a century. Soon the species started showing up during surveys of lower Green Bay. By the early 2010s, models show the bay was teeming with tens of millions of them.

It’s not entirely clear what caused the whitefish revival, but most see cleaner water as part of the equation.

A decades-long restoration project has cleared away more than 6 million yards of sediment laced with PCBs and nutrient-laced farm runoff from the Fox River and lower Green Bay. Phosphorus concentrations near the river mouth have declined by a third over 40 years — though they’re still considered too high.

“Pelicans are back, and the bird population seems to be thriving,” said Sarah Bartlett, a water resources specialist with the Green Bay Metropolitan Sewerage District, which monitors the bay’s water quality. “And now we have this world-class fishery.”

Hansen’s theory is that back when whitefish were still abundant in Lake Michigan, some wanderers strayed into the newly hospitable bay and decided to stay. Or maybe they were here all along, waiting for the right conditions to multiply.

Either way, the bay has become a lifeline for whitefish and the humans that eat them.

“I feel very fortunate that the bay is doing as well as it is,” said Stuth, who chairs the state commercial fishing board. 

As commercial harvests in the Wisconsin waters of Lake Michigan plummeted from more than 1.6 million pounds in 2000 to less than 200,000 pounds in 2024, harvests in Green Bay skyrocketed from less than 100,000 pounds to more than 800,000.

The bay has also become more important to fishers in Michigan, which has jurisdiction over a portion of its waters.

While the state’s total commercial harvests from Lake Michigan have plummeted 70% since 2009 to just 1.2 million pounds annually, the decline would be steeper were it not for stable stocks in the bay. Once accounting for just a sliver of the catch, the bay now makes up more than half.

A recreational ice fishing scene has sprung up too, with thousands of anglers taking to the ice each winter, contributing tens of millions to the local economy.

Ironically, the bay’s lingering nutrient pollution may be helping to some extent – a dynamic also seen in Michigan’s Saginaw Bay. 

Nutrients like phosphorus and nitrogen are the building blocks of life, fueling the growth of aquatic plants and algae at the base of the food web. Plankton eat the algae, small fish eat the plankton, and big fish eat the small fish.

Unlike the main basins, where mussels have hogged nutrients and starved out whitefish, polluted runoff leaves the shallow bays with more than enough for the mussels and everything else. 

Some have even suggested Michigan and its neighbors should start fertilizing the big lakes in hopes of giving whitefish a boost, Herbert said, but “there’s the question of feasibility.” 

First, because the lakes are far deeper and wider than the bays, it would take vast quantities to make an impact. And while excess nutrients may help feed fish, they could also cause oxygen-deprived dead zones, harmful algae blooms and other serious problems.

Green Bay is already offering other lessons for Michigan, though. 

Inspired by whitefish’s return to the bay’s rivers, biologists including Herbert are trying to coax Michigan whitefish to spawn in rivers that connect to nutrient-rich river mouths like Lake Charlevoix. 

The hope is that if hatchlings can spend a few months fattening up before migrating into the mussel-infested big lake, they’ll stand a better chance of surviving.

Scientists in Green Bay are also tracking whitefish movements, hoping to figure out where they spawn and what makes those habitats special. That kind of information could prove useful to recovery efforts throughout the Great Lakes, said Dan Isermann, a fish biologist with the U.S. Geological Survey.

Living in ‘the good old days’

“We’re really lucky to have what we have here,” said JJ Malvitz, a commercial fishing guide who owes his career to Green Bay’s whitefish resurgence. 

But he lives with fear that “the good old days are now.”

Stocks have shrunk by half since the mid-2010s, according to population models fed with data from DNR surveys and commercial and recreational harvests. The adult whitefish seem to be fat and healthy. But for reasons unknown, fewer of their offspring have been making it to adulthood.  

It’s possible the bay’s population is just leveling off after a period of strong recruitment, Hansen said, “but we want to be vigilant.”

A recent string of lackluster winters adds to the concern. Whitefish lay their eggs on ice-covered reefs. When that protective layer fails to form or melts off early, the eggs can be battered by waves or enticed to hatch early, out of sync with the spring plankton bloom that serves as their main food source.

While this winter was icier than most, climate change is making low-ice winters more frequent.

“Whitefish are a cold-water species, and we know that’s not where the trends are going,” Hansen said.

Time to cut back?

So far, Wisconsin officials haven’t lowered Green Bay’s annual whitefish quota of 2.28 million pounds, evenly split between the commercial and sport fisheries. Commercial boats are limited to fish bigger than 17 inches, while recreational anglers are limited to 10 fish a day of any size.

But during a recent presentation to the state’s Natural Resources Board, Hansen said it’s time to start keeping closer tabs on the population. 

“If these trends continue,” he said, “we need to have some more serious discussions amongst ourselves about lowering the exploitation rates.”

Malvitz, the guide, believes it’s time for commercial and recreational anglers to collectively agree to harvest fewer fish. He would be satisfied with a five-fish limit for recreational anglers along with smaller quotas for the commercial fishery, which harvests far more fish. 

The bay’s whitefish reappeared quickly and unexpectedly, he said. Who’s to say they couldn’t disappear just as fast?

“I don’t want to be standing on the shore in five years saying ‘remember when,’” he said. 

Stuth, the commercial fishing board chair, isn’t ready to accept tighter quotas in the bay, but said population models should be closely watched. If the declines continue, he said, cuts may be on the table.

“A very conservative approach is going to be necessary,” he said. “Because it’s our last stronghold. If that goes away, what do we have?”

This article first appeared on Bridge Michigan and is republished here under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

A Wisconsin whitefish refuge offers lessons for Michigan. But will it last? is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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• Apricity Contract Packaging employs about 100 people each year at its northeast Wisconsin and Milwaukee locations.

• The organization is one of few nationwide devoted strictly to employing people who are recovering from addiction. 

• Workers say the environment helps them hold a job and gain confidence as they build sobriety. 

• But it doesn’t work out for everyone, with some new hires opting out during orientation or in their first few days. 

• Employees who want to stay get support if they aren’t performing up to standards or relapse.

Mellisa Edwards didn’t have a job for a decade as she struggled with drug addiction. 

That changed last March, when she got a job doing packaging and assembly work at Apricity Contract Packaging in Appleton and moved into a nearby residential treatment home. 

Edwards got off to a rocky start. She missed shifts because she didn’t want to get out of bed, leading her supervisors to write her up. But her co-workers helped her rebound. They’re taking on the same challenge of staying sober while showing up to work.

Apricity Contract Packaging is run entirely by people recovering from addiction. Roughly 100 people work at the northeast Wisconsin and Milwaukee locations each year, building sobriety and stable employment records free of the many obstacles found in typical workplaces.

Apricity leaders say they’re catering to workers who employers often overlook. While there’s been a push in recent years to make workplaces more “recovery-friendly,” few organizations nationally strictly employ those in recovery. 

“We offer employment in a safe environment where people aren’t necessarily impacted by some of the judgment and that fear of somebody looking into their history with substance use,” Apricity Contract Packaging President Dan Haak said.

Nowadays, Edwards always shows up to work on time, and she earned a perfect score on her last performance review. She plans to stay at the job for at least another year, until she finishes her probation. 

“I love it here … (Other workers) know what you’re going through, so they can relate very well,” Edwards said. 

Leaders aim for their jobs to be transitional, for workers to build “a foundation of recovery and safer behaviors,” then move into new jobs with more confidence, Haak said. But there’s no limit to how long people can stay, and many stay for years. 

“We try to motivate them as much as we can … to show them they have a career ahead in this and everything else, if they want one,” team leader Andy Geurden said. 

A unique operation

Haak began working at the plant at his counselor’s recommendation in 1998, when the organization was known as STEP Industries. He climbed up the ranks over the years and is now president of the plant. 

“I came out of treatment and didn’t have a driver’s license, didn’t have a car, and had a terrible work history, because when I was using, getting up in the morning was hard,” Haak said.

Many find themselves at Apricity in the same shoes. 

Countless challenges can stand between people recovering from addiction and employment, like rocky work histories, criminal records, a lack of reliable transportation or judgment from employers.

Keeping a job can be just as hard. Someone in recovery might need to work around scheduled drug tests or other legal appointments. They may struggle to avoid situations where substances are present, such as workplace happy hours. Their probation officers might need to meet with their bosses. 

“People don’t necessarily want to open up and discuss all of those things, especially in an interview and say, ‘Oh, I need to leave work early to go take a drug test three days a week,’” Haak said.

Instead, at Apricity, one’s recovery is implied — and understood. That allows employees to focus on getting their lives back on track. 

“I would keep (my recovery) kind of hidden, and that can kind of be a barrier for me not really getting to know people,” said Jason Koehler, who has worked at the plant for two years. “Here, everybody kind of just knows it already. It’s not really even an issue.”

Apricity formed in 2018, when two addiction recovery programs merged. Meaning “the warmth of the sun in winter,” the company’s name is a metaphor for those coming out of a dark period in their lives. 

Efforts to reduce the stigma — including state resources to help employers hire workers in recovery — haven’t erased the challenge of finding work. Apricity remains one of few places in the country focused entirely on workers facing these challenges.

Funded through grants and revenues from its services, Apricity offers two residential treatment facilities, a peer support and recovery coaching program, 24/7 on-call recovery coaches, four sober living homes and, finally, the packaging plant. 

While not a requirement, many plant workers have been through Apricity’s treatment program or stayed in its homes, safe places to land for those who have poor rental histories, eviction records or ongoing legal cases that make it difficult for them to enter a lease.

‘How to be a good employee’

On a late January morning at the Appleton plant, a pair of employees die-cut and packaged pieces of a tissue paper flower craft kit. Another team collapsed tri-fold poster boards and packed piles of them into branded boxes. Lindsey Jackson drove a forklift around the floor, moving stacks of finished packages. 

The hands-on work varies daily. Companies get a 5% tax rebate to hire Apricity for packaging or assembly projects, often because they need extra short-term labor, equipment or space. 

The daily grind at Apricity teaches people “how to be a good employee,” Haak said. 

Employees are held accountable for the basics: clocking in on time, dressing appropriately, properly calling in sick and staying productive. Leaders focus job interviews on the employee’s recovery, rather than their work history. They work around drug court dates, probation obligations or treatment appointments. They organize transportation for those who need it.

“It’s huge for self-esteem. I think people in recovery are struggling with all kinds of stuff from a mental health standpoint,” Haak said. “Being employed gives you a sense of purpose. It gives you a sense of self-worth.”

Not everyone succeeds. Some new hires leave during orientation or soon after they start work. 

“Sometimes people, they start to make up excuses after the first couple of days, and we say, ‘OK, well, what do you want? We aren’t forcing you to be here. It’s up to you. You can leave if you want, you can resign if you want. It’s not gonna hurt our feelings,’” he said. 

Employees who want to stay get support if they fall short or slip up. 

Human resources manager Rachel Hasenzahl creates “relapse prevention plans,” evaluates employees’ performances and helps them move up or toward the jobs they want. Over time, motivated staff can move into leadership roles, earning more, overseeing a crew and learning skills like forklift operation. 

Apricity hopes employees will stay a while, build work history and skills, and eventually move on. About 40% do, often at other local manufacturers, like Plexus Corp., Pierce Manufacturing and Great Northern Corporation.

But with no set end date, some workers stay for years, climbing the ranks. Many higher-ranking staff started in the program and now help others. Some who leave struggle without the robust support for recovery Apricity provides.

Hasenzahl once left to try other jobs, but found it difficult to handle the way alcohol was embedded in workplace culture. She eventually returned to the packaging plant, where she now has a decade under her belt. When she relapsed, as some employees do, Apricity staff helped her back to sobriety. When she wanted to advance, leaders worked around her class schedule so she could study human resources at Fox Valley Technical College. 

Before Apricity, Koehler bounced between jobs and was unemployed for two years. Since he started working at Apricity two years ago, he’s rented his own apartment, saved money and taken on a lead role on the packaging floor. 

“People kind of look to me for questions and (I’m) becoming a leader again, proving to myself that I can do that again,” Koehler said. “People can trust me to do that for them.”

Like Koehler, several employees said the most important thing they’ve gained from the job is confidence. 

“It took a little bit, but I can actually stand the person I see in the mirror when I wake up in the morning now,” Geurden said, “thanks to the staff and everyone having my back.”

Miranda Dunlap reports on pathways to success in northeast Wisconsin, working in partnership with Open Campus. Find her on Instagram and Twitter, or send her an email at mdunlap@wisconsinwatch.org.

Work, recovery and second chances on a Wisconsin manufacturing floor is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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• Officials from the town of Carlton and Cloverleaf Infrastructure told Wisconsin Watch the company is no longer pursuing a data center project near the Kewaunee Power Station. 

• The resolution happened in late 2025. 

• Cloverleaf Infrastructure is still interested in building a data center in northeast Wisconsin. 

• Meanwhile, plans for EnergySolutions to build a new plant at the Kewaunee Power Station are slowly moving forward. The company submitted files to the U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commission last week.

Leaders of data center developer Cloverleaf Infrastructure have decided against pursuing land to build a data center in the town of Carlton in Kewaunee County after local residents opposed the idea. 

The company scrapped its plans in the northeast Wisconsin farming community in late 2025, Cloverleaf and town of Carlton officials confirmed last week. 

“The town chairperson said, ‘I don’t support data centers. I don’t think this is a good fit,’” Cloverleaf’s Chief Development Officer Aaron Bilyeu said. “We shook hands and said ‘thank you.’” 

Cloverleaf’s decision to back off makes Carlton one of the latest towns to fend off companies looking for the space to erect often-massive data warehouses powering artificial intelligence, social media and cloud computing. 

Wisconsin Watch reported in October that some Carlton residents were nervous about selling local farmland to build a data center after town officials said interested developers reached out to them.

Those fears were stoked by news that Carlton’s shuttered nuclear power plant may see new life. The plant’s owner is seeking government approval for a new nuclear power station at the site because it believes data centers and artificial intelligence will increase the state’s energy demand. 

“I’m against big business,” said town Chairman David Hardtke, who has pushed back against the idea for months. “People in the town of Carlton do not want the AI (data) center.” 

Similar dilemmas have played out in other rural Wisconsin communities, as residents try to block tech giants from settling in their towns. 

In recent weeks, Cloverleaf offered to buy property for a data center in Greenleaf, a village in Brown County. The move drew outrage from community members, leading Cloverleaf officials to ax the proposal last week. 

The decision in Carlton was a much quieter conclusion for residents of a county where cattle outnumber people by nearly 5 to 1. Some community members told Wisconsin Watch they were nervous about what losing more farmland would mean for local families and business owners.

“Once they take land away, you know, it’ll never come back,” Chris Kohnle, president of the local Tisch Mills Farm Center, told Wisconsin Watch in September. 

Others were less concerned, telling Wisconsin Watch that Kewaunee County has stagnated since the nuclear plant shuttered. They shared hopes that investment from big business could create more economic activity, well-paying local jobs and a reason for young people to stay in the area.

“If you bring in an employer like that who is paying, you’re going to see development. You’re going to see new homes being built, and more businesses move in,” Kewaunee County resident Dan Giannotti said in August. “Because right now we’re just stagnant … nothing’s happening to speak of.”

Despite striking out in Carlton and Greenleaf, Bilyeu said Cloverleaf is still looking for a data center site in northeast Wisconsin. 

Wisconsin is attractive to developers because of the tax incentives it offers and its cool climate. Data centers need cooling methods to prevent overheating — making Carlton’s proximity to a massive water source particularly attractive.

“We’re not the only ones looking for data center sites in the area,” Bilyeu said. “We’re just the only ones that are forthright, and we’ll actually talk to people and identify ourselves and let people know what we’re doing and what we’re interested in.”

Carlton still remains on the precipice of much potential change, as the Kewaunee Power Station project inches forward. 

Last week, plant owner EnergySolutions submitted files to the U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commission that company spokespeople describe as “an important next step” in getting government approval to bring nuclear power back to the site. The permitting process is lengthy, and even if everything goes smoothly, they don’t expect construction would begin until the early 2030s.

Miranda Dunlap reports on pathways to success in northeast Wisconsin, working in partnership with Open Campus. Find her on Instagram and Twitter, or send her an email at mdunlap@wisconsinwatch.org.

Kewaunee County town staves off interest from data center developers is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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• As Wisconsin’s workforce ages and universities nationwide see fewer traditional college-aged students, UWGB is trying several unorthodox efforts to attract older learners. 

• The university offers short-term certificates that advance workers’ job skills, ungraded courses that keep older people socially engaged and classes in local nursing homes. 

• Leaders hope the initiatives will keep the region’s growing retirement-age population sharp and socially engaged — and potentially in the workforce for longer — while also bolstering enrollment.

Inside University of Wisconsin-Green Bay’s Christie Theatre, retired judge Mark Warpinski leads a discussion about how judges decide on the sentences they impose. Roughly 50 students nod along, take notes and eagerly wave their hands in the air to debate how they’d sentence someone for a hypothetical crime. 

The unusually lively audience betrays that this isn’t a typical sleepy morning lecture — most of Warpinski’s students are over the age of 50. 

“We pay attention. We ask questions. We’re not sitting on our cellphones and scrolling … like I guess most college students nowadays do,” said 76-year-old student Norman Schroeder. 

Classrooms full of older adults are becoming more common at UWGB.

As Wisconsin’s workforce ages and universities nationwide see fewer traditional college-aged students, UWGB is trying several unorthodox efforts to attract older learners. That includes more short-term certificates that advance workers’ job skills, ungraded courses that keep older students socially engaged and classes in local nursing homes. 

University leaders hope these moves will keep the region’s growing retirement-age population sharp and socially engaged — and potentially in the workforce for longer — while also bolstering enrollment.

“We’re not just an 18-year-old campus. We’re not just a campus where you live in the dorms and have a traditional experience,” said Jessica Lambrecht, UWGB’s continuing education and workforce training executive officer. “There’s hundreds of universities you can pick from that offer that type of experience. So how are we gonna stretch and serve more?” 

In fall 2025, UWGB joined the Age-Friendly University Global Network, an international web of universities that focus on including all ages. The college must follow the network’s 10 principles, which include supporting those pursuing second careers; expanding online education options; and promoting collaboration between older and younger students, among other tasks. Lambrecht hopes this commitment leads more community groups to help UWGB in its pursuit of older learners. 

UWGB’s focus on enrolling people outside the typical 18-to-24 age group has helped the college’s enrollment climb over the past decade, at a time when many universities are seeing the opposite trend.

University leaders hope to do even more to cater to retirees and other older adults in coming years, starting with more courses in assisted living facilities and building ways for older people to mentor younger students and workers. 

Addressing Wisconsin’s aging workforce

Wisconsin’s aging population has caused ongoing trouble for its workforce. 

For years, there haven’t been enough working-age people to fill the jobs left by those retiring. That trend is expected to continue into 2030.

Lambrecht said UWGB leaders are thinking about how they can “encourage and invite that pre-retirement age population to stay engaged in the workforce a little bit longer.” 

They think offering more short-term certificates can help. 

Perhaps more commonly offered by two-year colleges, short-term certificates show someone completed a handful of courses focused on a skill or topic. An increasing number of people in the U.S. are seeking these credentials, as they’re cheaper and less time-consuming than degrees. They’re also often marketed as a way for workers to gain knowledge that will help them advance in their career and earn more money, though studies and data have indicated a mixed payoff. 

UWGB offers 20 short-term certificate options, ranging from topics such as utilizing artificial intelligence to English-to-Spanish translation. 

“Your job is going to continuously change, and with the exponential growth of information, how are you going to stay relevant in the workforce?” Lambrecht said. “So that’s really where continuing professional education programs come into play. It’s giving you short-term, bite-sized programming that’s going to help you refine a skill set that you now are faced with.”

University leaders also want to create more opportunities for younger students and employees to learn from people reaching retirement age. Lambrecht said she’s thinking about how they can “marry those two audiences to be of continued value in our workforce.” For example, last summer, they debuted an “intergenerational” program aiming to connect older adults and youth through several educational workshops. 

‘Learning for its own sake’

The quest for more older students isn’t just about keeping them working. It also helps keep the region’s aging population mentally sharp and socially engaged.

UWGB’s Lifelong Learning Institute (LLI) is geared toward older adults who want to “enjoy learning for its own sake.” There are no tests, no grades and no prerequisites. The volunteer-led club offers between 150 and 250 courses each semester — the most popular including history, film and documentary classes, guest lectures and tours around the region. 

“When I retired, I realized I’ve got to keep doing things. You can’t just sit in the chair,” said Gary Lewins, a 10-year LLI student. Last semester, he took a class that taught him how to digitize all of his old photo albums. 

Norman Schroeder began taking LLI classes in 2018. The retired family doctor said it was good for more than just learning — he quickly made several friends. Today he helms LLI’s Board of Directors and tries to get more people to join.

“LLI is not only just the cognitive stimulation, the brain stimulation of the classes and learning — it’s also the social engagement,” Schroeder said. “Those are important elements for good health. Particularly in older patients, there’s a high incidence of depression, and some of that comes from social isolation … I kind of promote LLI as good for your health.”

The institute has over 800 members, who pay $150 for a year of access to classes. University professors often volunteer to teach classes related to their expertise, happy to teach to a highly engaged audience, Schroeder said. 

In early 2025, the Rennes Group, which operates assisted living facilities in northern Wisconsin, gave a $300,000 grant to the institute. UWGB has used the money to host classes at Rennes’ nursing homes, upgrade technology to livestream classes to residents living in them and take residents on outings, such as a tour of the Green Bay Correctional Institution. 

“Just because you live in an environment that provides maybe some extra help, doesn’t mean … you shouldn’t have access to things like lifelong learning,” Rennes Group President Nicole Schingick said. 

Enrolling ‘the bookends’

UWGB’s focus on older learners comes as the so-called traditional college student, aged 18 to 24 years old, makes up a smaller share of enrollment nationwide. 

In September, Chancellor Michael Alexander sent a letter to faculty and staff outlining how the university must “reinvent” to topple trends like these. To do so, he wrote, UWGB leaders must recognize “every person is a potential student over their lifetime, not just at 18 with stellar high school academic credentials.” 

In their quest to grow enrollment, college leaders have trained their focus on not just older learners, but younger ones, too. 

“(We’re) trying to think about the bookends of the population, knowing that the 18- to 24-year-old is a shrinking demographic,” Lambrecht said. “If we’re going to thrive as a university, we have to think outside the box.” 

In 2020, for example, the college launched a program for high schoolers to complete associate degrees through the university for free. High schoolers have comprised a growing share of the university’s student population over the years, from 16% in fall 2018 to more than a third of enrollment today. 

In 2024, 12% of UWGB’s students were over the age of 30, though that figure only includes students who are taking classes for credit and does not include students like those involved in the Lifelong Learning Institute. 

These approaches have helped UWGB’s total enrollment grow over 3,300 students in the last decade, while nearly every other UW school has seen a net decrease over the same time frame.

It’s common to see people of all ages on the Green Bay campus. In the summer, UWGB rents out its empty dorms as “snowbird housing” to older adults. But college leaders want to do even more in coming years to reach older people — particularly those who can’t come to campus. 

“The reality is, some of our members have mobility issues,” Schroeder said. “When you’re an 18- to 20-year-old college student, walking any distance is not a big deal. But if you’re on the campus at UWGB, sometimes it’s a long walk from the parking lot to get into the classrooms.”

UWGB leaders hope to offer more virtual classes for older students who are home-bound or have physical limitations. To assist those with hearing loss, they want to add “hearing loops” to classrooms, which transmit sound from a microphone directly into a hearing aid. Eventually, they want Rennes residents to have access to the full catalog of lifelong learning classes virtually, in real time, Schingick said.

“That would really be able to open the doors globally, if you will, to all of our residents and all of our communities, no matter where they are in the state,” Schingick said.

Miranda Dunlap reports on pathways to success in northeast Wisconsin, working in partnership with Open Campus.

As Wisconsin ages, UW-Green Bay looks to older adults to boost enrollment — and keep minds sharp is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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• ATECH opened over a decade ago to create a pipeline of students interested in advanced manufacturing careers. 

• Many students at the charter school like the hands-on classes, take advantage of paid apprenticeships and earn free college credits. 

• But school leaders say they struggle to attract students, fight a stigma that surrounds technical education and afford equipment and tools.

A cacophony of humming, drilling, banging and buzzing fills Appleton Technical Academy’s cavernous lab. 

In one corner, a student drills ventilation holes in a piece of metal that will eventually be a firepit ring. Another cuts through a thin piece of metal with clippers. Shrouded by red vinyl curtains, several students weld metal, sending blue sparks flying through the air.

As more schools embrace career and technical education, scenes like these are increasingly common in high schools nationwide: fewer students gripping pencils at desks; more wielding expensive tools and receiving hands-on training for their future career. 

Part of that trend, Appleton Technical Academy (ATECH) opened a decade ago to ease the region’s shortage of advanced manufacturing workers. Today, many of the students love their hands-on classes, enroll in paid apprenticeships and collect free college credit before continuing on to trade school. 

But it hasn’t been without difficulties. The school has struggled to attract students, combat a persistent stigma around technical education and afford the pricey equipment and tools it requires. Plus, it’s hard to determine if the school has met the original goal of producing local manufacturing employees. 

What’s happening at ATECH shows how preparing Wisconsin teenagers to eventually fill workforce holes, especially amid the state’s dearth of skilled trade workers, can be a tall task.

ATECH lead teacher Paul Endter spends his lunch breaks and free time trying to grow local support for the school and get more students interested. 

“I continue to tell people we’re the best-kept secret in the Fox Valley, and that’s not by design,” Endter said. “I wish I had more people who wanted to get involved.”

Born from industry needs

In the early 2010s, Jared Bailin, CEO of Appleton-based Eagle Performance Plastics, was struggling to find enough advanced manufacturing workers. The plastic manufacturing leader thought introducing high schoolers to the jobs would help. 

He took the idea to Greg Hartjes, who was principal of Appleton West High School at the time. Hartjes is now the school district’s superintendent and has always worried about students who don’t mesh with traditional high school education structure — students who, he says, “perhaps didn’t want to sit in English class and read Shakespeare,” but rather wanted “their hands in the work that they were doing.” 

Together, they built ATECH, a tuition-free charter school inside Appleton West that aims to prepare students for manufacturing jobs. They secured state grants to fund the launch, and Appleton voters approved a district referendum that put $2.4 million toward renovating labs and classroom spaces.

The school opened in the 2014-15 school year. Here’s how it works: Students can apply to the school at any point, but most enroll their freshman year. They choose to specialize in one of four growing industries: electronics and automated manufacturing, machining, mechanical design or welding. 

At first, students take a small number of classes that introduce them to the basics of manufacturing alongside the traditional courses required of all high schoolers, such as language arts and math. Students gradually take on more courses aligned to their specialization, such as programming for electronics students or blueprint reading for machining students.

Beginning their junior year, students take free college classes that earn both high school and Fox Valley Technical College credit. The classes chip away at a certificate in their focus area, which can shave thousands off tuition for students who enroll in technical college after graduation. Some juniors and seniors can work for local employers as paid youth apprentices during part of the school day, earning money and gaining work experience. 

“ATECH kids are kids that wanted to use their hands along with their brain in learning,” Hartjes said. 

That’s the reason senior Izzy Chappell enrolled. On an early December morning, she dipped into one of the lab’s eight welding booths wearing a helmet to protect from the harsh UV rays and flying sparks. She put the finishing touches on a welded metal skull sculpture she entered in a regional SkillsUSA competition that night. 

“Other classes are hard,” Chappell said. “This comes easy to me.” 

Getting students excited a struggle 

ATECH leaders hoped the school would be a magnet for students, but getting them interested has been a challenge.

The school debuted with 56 students. Enrollment has fluctuated a bit over the decade, never reaching the district’s goal of 120. In the 2024-25 school year — the most recent year with available state data — 68 students enrolled.  

Leaders chalk the lower-than-desired enrollment up to several difficulties: The district doesn’t provide transportation to charter schools, meaning these students typically have to find their own way to school. A jump start toward a career simply doesn’t resonate with many teenagers as young as 14, who Endter said are more motivated by sports or where their friends go to school. 

And most of all, ATECH leaders find many families still see college degrees as the gold standard. Despite growing investment in career and technical education programs nationwide and the critical need for skilled workers in Wisconsin, they say a stigma still plagues technical education, leading many to believe it’s for students who don’t perform well in school. 

“I think a misconception often is that it’s not rigorous, and it’s not for students that have an aptitude or are intelligent,” Hartjes said. “That’s not the case. We’ve given kids an opportunity to really learn using both their hands and their head.”

When ATECH was brand new, a state grant helped the school afford TV commercials and mailers. That money is long gone. Nowadays, Endter visits nearby middle schools to talk to students about career education. They organize tours and career fairs, where ATECH leaders try to entice students with the spacious labs and high-tech equipment.

“It’s not for lack of trying, you know?” Endter said. “But again, as an incoming eighth grader, charter schools represent something different. For some kids, different is good. And for some kids, different is not. So many kids don’t know what could or should be the best pathway for them.”

Meeting workforce needs?

Sophomore Noah Siong enrolled in ATECH because his brother graduated from the school and went on to open his own car repair shop. 

“That kind of opened the gateway to me,” Siong said. “It was like, ‘Oh, this stuff is pretty cool.’”

Siong wants to pursue a career in metal fabrication after graduation. Hartjes estimates hundreds of students like Siong have learned “skills that have prepared them for careers” over the last decade. But it’s difficult to know exactly how many students have gotten jobs that use the skills they learned at ATECH.

Wisconsin, like many states, doesn’t have a system connecting education and employment data, according to a 2024 Education Commission of the States analysis. The evidence ATECH leaders collect is largely anecdotal, but Endter said it indicates the vast majority either continue to technical college to finish their programs or turn their youth apprenticeships into full-time jobs after graduation. Endter estimates about 10% pursue a four-year degree. 

Bailin, the Eagle Performance Plastics CEO, said ATECH hasn’t produced as many local manufacturing employees as he hoped when he helped create the school.

“It didn’t really come out the way I would have hoped,” Bailin said. Eagle has hired between one and three apprentices from ATECH each year. He estimates roughly half have moved into full-time jobs, but it hasn’t been enough to produce the pipeline of machining employees he wanted. The company is no longer closely tied to the school, Bailin said. 

In a measure of its academic performance, ATECH’s state rating has averaged a score of 58, which the Department of Public Instruction (DPI) defines as “meets few expectations.” Hartjes said the hands-on skills students learn are not reflected in the state’s rating system. For example, the college classes students take, however advanced, don’t factor into the school’s rating.

“If they were … tested on their aptitude for mechanics, I guarantee you that they would outscore many other students across our state,” Hartjes said. “If they were being tested on those different things that we focused on, I guarantee you that their knowledge, their experience and their aptitude is going to shine through. But, you know, they don’t.”

‘Just can’t fund all of this’

“I’m going to teach you about different kinds of metal!” technology education teacher Carrie Giauque shouts so students hear her in the noisy lab. She pulls scraps out of a large trash barrel filled to the brim, identifying them to the students crowded around her: “Carbon! Steel! Aluminum! Galvanized steel! Copper!”

Behind them, sheets of metal are stacked floor to ceiling. The school goes through countless sheets teaching students the basics of welding and metal fabrication. It’s ATECH’s largest expense.

“It’s a lot less costly to have 30 students sit in math class,” Hartjes said. 

Despite needing costly materials, ATECH’s state funding is determined by the same formula as all other schools in the district, so it relies on grants and donations to make up the difference. To date, the school has received $266,000 in donations toward equipment and curriculum. 

“A lot of the learning exhausts materials, exhausts some of our resources,” Hartjes said. “(We’re) having to get support from our local manufacturing community, from a financial aspect, because as a school district, we just can’t fund all of this.”

Endter said ATECH also badly needs mentoring from industry employees, who can teach students and teachers how to use the complicated technology they receive as donations. In one classroom, a large robot sits untouched in a locked box after a college donated it. ATECH employees don’t have enough experience with the programming language to teach students how to use it.  

For their part, employers are often stretched too thin to offer up staff to mentor teachers and students. Eagle Performance Plastics used to send someone to ATECH to teach students about a pricey machine it helped buy, but there weren’t enough interested students to make the trip worth it, Bailin said.

Inside ATECH, a “sponsor wall” is decorated with the logos of organizations and employers that have invested in the school. Two-thirds of the spaces are empty — a visual reminder of the school’s need for added support. 

Endter jokes he wears “27 hats” trying to find it. 

“Every hour that I am not teaching, including working through my lunch hour, is dedicated to phone calls, emails, site visits, networking, cold calls,” he said. “You name it. I am doing it.”

The work could soon pay off. Beginning in 2024, Appleton students between kindergarten and fifth grade began taking weekly STEM classes. Endter hopes that will spark interest in career and technical education. 

“I’m on the precipice,” Endter said. “And I’m hoping that there’s going to be this giant surge of students who are looking for opportunities.”

The dilemma isn’t unique to ATECH. Many schools are eager to provide this kind of technical education, Karin Smith, a DPI education consultant, said. However, the equipment and tools are costly, and many schools are struggling to fund basic offerings. (Appleton expects a $13 million deficit this school year.) 

Wisconsin is one of five states that don’t designate state funding for career and technical education programs, relying solely on federal funding. Many states allocate more funding to school districts specifically for these programs because the federal dollars alone cannot meet the costs, according to Advance CTE, a nonprofit representing state career and technical education leaders.

“In Wisconsin, we have used (the federal funds) to, generally speaking, keep the lights on,” said Sara Baird, DPI’s career and technical education director. 

State Superintendent of Public Instruction Jill Underly requested the 2025-27 state budget include about $45 million in career and technical education grants to districts. Gov. Tony Evers suggested a pared-down version of $10 million, which was scrubbed by the Legislature’s Republican-controlled Joint Finance Committee and not included in the final bill. 

“We’re seeing tremendous growth and tremendous interest in expanding CTE,” Smith said. Still, school district leaders are frustrated by the lack of funding for it. “They are feeling like their hands are tied behind their back,” she said. 

“We can’t do this alone … Every school has a tech ed teacher who is desperately trying to get kids excited about career pathways,” Endter said. “They need business support. They need donations. They need mentors in the classroom.”

Miranda Dunlap reports on pathways to success in northeast Wisconsin, working in partnership with Open Campus. Email her at mdunlap@wisconsinwatch.org.

‘Can’t do this alone’: An Appleton school prepares students for skilled trades. It’s not easy. is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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• Since its debut in March, the “Plaster + Patina” podcast has inspired excitement in Green Bay’s Astor neighborhood.

• Residents have pitched stories about their historic homes to the podcast team and opened their homes to them. 

• The first season focused on homes between Monroe Avenue and the Fox River.  

• The team does extensive research and searches for interesting stories about the properties they feature.

Inside Skip Heverly’s modified Dutch Colonial home, five people thaw from the near-freezing November evening by a green-tiled fireplace. Between them, a coffee table is littered with loose-leaf newspaper clippings, notepads and snacks. 

The group members, all residents of Green Bay’s Astor neighborhood, are preparing to spend the evening trading bits of local lore and hatching ideas that could make for an interesting deep dive. 

The neighbors run “Plaster + Patina,” a podcast series that digs up long-buried — and sometimes spooky — tales tied to the historic homes in Astor, one of Green Bay’s oldest neighborhoods. Through the project, they hope to create a shared sense of wonder and community among neighbors while memorializing the area’s history.

“Slowly but surely, I think we’re kind of seeing how this is really helping to bring the community together,” said Morgan Fisher, podcast chief editor and treasurer of the Astor Neighborhood Association. Each person on the podcast team is also a volunteer member of the association, which advocates for the area to local government and organizes events. 

After debuting in March, the series has inspired excitement around the neighborhood, with residents pitching their own houses to be featured and opening their homes to the team. At the mid-November brainstorm, the group invited longtime local civic leader Jim Gucwa to share stories he’s collected and spark inspiration for a future episode. 

The first season of “Plaster + Patina” uncovered a forgotten spring water bottling business; examined architectural changes that speak to larger societal shifts; and told tales of ghosts, among other topics. 

Each person has a unique role in the process, from digging through yellowed archives to splicing audio. Several enrolled in nearby community college to learn the skills they use. The project doesn’t currently have sponsors or advertisers to generate revenue, or plans to do so. The team pools resources, leveraging each others’ connections, interests and skills. 

“That’s what a neighborhood’s about,” said Paul Jacobson, the podcast’s historian.  

Bringing people out of their homes — and into others’

Between the 1830s and 1920s,  a high, dry slope running parallel to the Fox River — colloquially known as “The Hill” — was an attractive place for doctors, lawyers and other businessmen to build their homes. 

Today, the houses in the affluent neighborhood still reflect the period in which they were constructed. A 1980 historic district designation, championed with Gucwa’s help, preserves the homes’ exteriors from being substantially altered, among other protections. 

Astor’s design encourages social connection. Homes with large front porches sit close to the sidewalks lining each street. Parks host an ice rink, a wading pool and a shell where local bands regularly perform. 

Despite this, the area hasn’t been immune to the social isolation that’s swept across the country in recent years. 

“People have kind of gone into their (homes),” Fisher said. “They’re not on their porches anymore. They’re not out meeting their neighbors as much.”

When the Astor Neighborhood Association coalesced in 1974, it started as a way to improve the area and combat crime. It now focuses on maintaining a sense of community among residents, Fisher said. 

To do that, last summer several neighborhood association members discussed creating something where people could walk around the area, learn the stories behind the architecture they see and feel more connected to its past and present.

“What better way to do that than a podcast?” Jacobson said. 

Tales of ghosts, lost springs and … alligators?

At first, the group was nervous about how the endeavor would turn out. But once they started chatting about history and architecture, old stories of folks from the area, “everyone just lit up,” said Heverly, the producer of “Plaster + Patina.”

The first season focused on homes nestled between Monroe Avenue and the Fox River.  

“It’s nice to stay within an area, just to kind of really lay out that area,” host Al Valentin said. “We want to create a visual while you’re listening to it of what the neighborhood looked like at that time.”

Once they choose a home, Jacobson digs up the stories behind it. He dives into a slew of online resources, including newspaper archives, historical atlases and — his favorite — fire insurance maps, which include detailed hand drawings of buildings in the area dating back to the 1880s. 

After Jacobson goes “down a rabbit hole,” they zoom out and choose the most interesting event or detail he found. “Otherwise, you could spend five hours on one particular home,” Valentin said. 

The team then drafts a rough script, a bullet-point list of topics they want to hit during the show. Finally, they record the episode for free in a studio at Northeast Wisconsin Technical College. They invite homeowners or people connected to the stories to appear as guests for a live interview. 

“We kind of shoot from the hip,” Valentin said. “When you hear us converse on the podcast, it’s pretty real, with our knowledge and expertise.”

Lastly, Heverly edits out “ums,” “uhs” and any mistakes made during recording. He learned the skill at NWTC, where he studied audio editing, video editing, social media marketing and how to use Adobe applications. 

Since March, the team has created eight episodes.

In one, Jacobson shared the story of a forgotten mineral spring he unearthed when scouring old hand-drawn maps. Residents bottled and sold the water, marketing it as a natural health remedy, he discovered.

In another, they explored how the neighborhood’s first backyard pool signaled the shift of leisure from front porches to more private backyards — and was once home to an alligator.

For a Halloween edition, Valentin interviewed a paranormal investigator who shared supernatural experiences at Astor’s Hazelwood House — including an apparition descending stairs, a baby cradle rocking on its own and echoes of drums played by the Native Americans who first called the area home.

Throughout the season, local support for the project has grown. 

Lawn signs advertising the show sprouted up in front yards across the neighborhood. People asked for their home to be featured. Residents opened up their homes to the crew, giving them tours to aid the podcast. 

“Especially in today’s world, we’re all looking for that connection. We want to be a part of something that’s bigger than ourselves,” marketing and writing director Maddy Szymanski explained in the podcast’s first episode. “When you live in an old neighborhood — or a new neighborhood, really anywhere —  you’re a part of something that is bigger than you. You’re a part of a community and you can build that connection.”

The team is currently producing a final episode before moving onto the podcast’s second season. Find the episodes here. 

Miranda Dunlap reports on pathways to success in northeast Wisconsin, working in partnership with Open Campus. Email her at mdunlap@wisconsinwatch.org.

Green Bay podcasters dig up long-buried tales in their own neighborhood is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.