The fourth- and fifth-graders arrived, and suddenly the gym at Nellie Stone Johnson Elementary School in Minneapolis echoed with sneakers squeaking and balls bouncing. Then, grinning, Michelle Young grabbed her own ball — and the kids’ attention.
Minnesota’s ‘Bachelorette’ claims new title: Nonprofit founder
Woodbury High School grad and reality TV star Michelle Young uses her fame to start Homework and Hoops, an after-school program for underprivileged kids.
“Huddle up!” she yelled.
The space quieted as the kids mirrored her, looping the basketballs around their waists, their ankles and between their legs.
Young often commands a crowd. That same week, wearing shimmering dresses, she would emcee a wine festival and an awards dinner. In those spaces, she’s Michelle Young, former star of “The Bachelorette” and a runner-up on “The Bachelor.” Here in the gym, wearing Converse high-tops, she’s Miss Young.
But not in the same way she once was.
Her season of the ABC-TV reality dating show, which premiered in 2021, leaned into her identity as a fifth-grade teacher. The promo featured her plucking an apple from a desk and tossing it into the air. So when, in 2022, she announced that she’d be leaving the classroom, some people in the show’s massive and passionate fan base, known as “Bachelor Nation,” slammed her for it.
To them, it seemed that she was yet another reality-star-turned-influencer, ditching her job for Instagram fame and trading Minnesota for Los Angeles.
“And for me, it was that I was stepping away for my mental health,” said Young, 31. Like many other teachers across the country, she’d been experiencing burnout so bad it had left her physically and emotionally spent. “And if those who are following me think I’m less genuine because I’m not in the classroom ...,” she shook her head. “I’m not less valuable because I’m not in the classroom.”
The Woodbury High School grad had also been readying her next move, one that would bring her back to working with kids: the Michelle Young Foundation, her nonprofit, and Homework and Hoops, an after-school program she started this spring. But she did that work quietly, doggedly, without posting about it on social media. A silent workhorse, as her dad always called it.
“And on social media, that’s not really a thing,” Young said. “I kind of joke about it, but I’ve noticed that if you don’t post everything you’re doing, you’re not doing it.”
But she’d been doing it, assembling a board, filing the paperwork, partnering with the YMCA.
“I was figuring out a way I could create, honestly, an even bigger impact,” she said.
A big test came last month, when she launched the nonprofit — and a $20,000 fundraising goal — at an event at Holman’s Table in St. Paul. Could Young, known as a Division I basketball player, teacher and, yes, reality TV star, persuade a room to back her in her new role as nonprofit founder?
‘Her original passion’
Young didn’t go on “The Bachelor” for the Instagram followers. (Someone — she still doesn’t know who — nominated her for Matt James’ season.) But she left “The Bachelorette” with hundreds of thousands of them. (Her follower count now hovers around 650,000.)
When she was out in Minneapolis, fans hung over balconies to say hi. They asked about her parents by name. They requested photo after photo.
“I’d watch her take 16 photos in a two-hour span,” said Jordan Alberino, a close friend. “And then she’d be walking out of the bar, and somebody else would come up to her: ‘Can I get a photo?’ ‘Absolutely.’ Patience is a virtue, but patience is also Michelle Young.”
As the show aired, fans watched as she walked red carpets, did photo shoots and finished up lesson plans backstage before filming in front of a live audience. But she didn’t detail the burnout she was experiencing after years of teaching amid COVID-19, toggling between online and in-person, grappling with an education system that is “in such a terrible place.”
Young knew the risks of ignoring her mental health: Years before, while in a relationship she called “toxic,” her body turned against her. She vomited several times a day. Her weight dropped to 100 pounds. She moved back to her childhood home in Woodbury, took a temporary leave from teaching and went to Mayo Clinic in search of answers.
With the help of a therapist, “I crawled my way out of it and learned to manage my anxiety,” she said.
But then, six months after the show aired, she and Nayte Olukoya, winner of her final rose, broke up, posting statements to their Instagram accounts. Young again started to get physically sick. “I thought, I am absolutely not going through this again. Nobody will ever put me through this again.”
Those experiences have given her a deep understanding of anxiety, something she once knew little about. She was a basketball kid, used to toughing it out. “No tears,” she said with a laugh.
Being on “The Bachelor” and “The Bachelorette” taught her how to be vulnerable in her relationships, to share how she’s feeling. But she still struggles with sharing the tough stuff online, especially as it’s happening. Every time she does, though, she connects with others grappling with similar issues.
It’s partly the stress of social media — with its demands to share “Who are you dating?” and “What are you wearing?” — that led her to launch her foundation. “I love fashion, I love makeup,” she said. “But that’s not what was fulfilling to me.” So, she started partnering with nonprofits, making donations and hosting campaigns.
At some point, she took a step back: “Wait a second, like, let me put all this energy into creating my own nonprofit.”
It was an old idea. She’d come up with the concept and the name for Homework and Hoops her first year teaching and liked that it combined two passions — teaching and basketball. This spring, working with the YMCA and Minneapolis Public School District, she started a seven-week pilot version of the program at the elementary school in north Minneapolis.
“I love to see her leverage and capitalizing on the blessings,” Alberino said. “To give back, and to something she’s passionate about, tying it to her original passion. It’s a beautiful thing.”
During a recent hoops session, Young and an 11-year-old named Chance were the final two shooters competing in a drill. Earlier, she’d taken it easy on some kids, playing defense several steps away. But with Chance, she played hard, beating him with a final “swish.” They high-fived.
“I like to play basketball and I love math,” said Chance, who appreciates that the homework sessions are readying him for sixth grade. That day in the gym was an anomaly, he noted — he typically beats Young.
“She’s kind, nice and respectful to others. And always excited. She always comes into the gym with a good attitude.”
‘Just our starting point’
On a sunny evening in May, an hour before the Michelle Young Foundation’s event was set to start, Young’s management team, in town from Los Angeles, huddled over a laptop. Board members checked on RSVPs. A family friend placed silent auction items in neat rows.
Young’s mother, LaVonne Young, arrived with a stapler, ready to help.
“I could almost cry,” LaVonne said, looking around.
“As much as I wasn’t thrilled about ‘The Bachelor’ and ‘The Bachelorette’ — as a parent, you don’t really want that for your kid,” she explained. Michelle has made the most of what it has offered. Reality TV never seemed natural, LaVonne argued. “Michelle is like the least drama person you have ever met in your life.”
But a foundation? That fits. “She’s somebody who’s always wanted to do good things.”
Then Young arrived with her boyfriend, Jack Leius, a fellow Minnesotan. She was tired. Between Homework and Hoops sessions and foundation board meetings, she’d emceed Wine Fest alongside broadcaster Jason DeRusha. Just the night before, she’d co-hosted another charity event.
She leaned on Leius for a second. “I’ve gotta wake up here.”
At first, on Instagram, Leius was a mystery man, hidden behind her shoulder. Then, in October, Young revealed Leius’ face. A hard launch, as it’s known. “Hit the Jackpot with you,” they said with a shared post. In one of many cute videos, they told the story of how they met. After spending a Thursday, Friday and Saturday together, on Sunday, Leius asked her to be his girlfriend.
During that first weekend, Young later said, they spent more time together than she had with any of her suitors during the entirety of the show. Leius is 26 but mature, she said, with loyal friends. “He calms my nervous system,” she said.
Early on, they spoke plainly about how being on “The Bachelor” opens up every relationship afterward to public scrutiny. They talked, too, about the demands of social media.
Leius isn’t in the relationship for show or for followers, she said. “If we both had to put social media down and walk away ... we would.”
As Young chatted with family, friends and donors, Leius slid between attendees, snapping photos that would later appear on Young’s accounts.
Then Young took the stage and talked about Homework and Hoops. About how the achievement gap has only grown since the pandemic. About how, over the course of just seven weeks, the Minneapolis kids in the program gained confidence in the classroom and on the court. About how the program provided T-shirts, gear and, if needed, a ride home.
“All the feedback that we’ve gotten, it’s been so, so positive ...,” Young said, “and it’s just our starting point.”
Over the course of the next week, donations via checks, the silent auction and online totaled more than $18,000. Young delivered several of the silent auction items herself, surprising donors at their doors.
And she didn’t tout that fact on Instagram once.
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