During my last trip to San Francisco, I heard about Marc Roth’s unconventional but sensible use of assistance money when he was homeless: He bought a membership to an SF makerspace. Marc learned the ins and outs of digital fabrication, started a successful laser cutting business, and now he’s ready to pilot The Learning Shelter, a 90-day residency program for SF homeless to build marketable making skills.

I’m enthralled. I’ve been exploring the future of work at MIT. This has looked mostly like peer economy research, but I have also been thinking about how other workforce development models may not fit today’s circumstances. Cities have traditionally approached workforce development from one of two perspectives:

Sector-based approach – the training agenda is determined by surrounding industries’ most valued skills. Training can be highly specialized, but if the industry ups and leaves (think motor industry, furniture industry, mining towns, etc.), then those skills might be difficult to transition to whatever industries are left.
Location-based approach – the goal is to get people whatever skills they need to begin working immediately. This is often a strategy for working with immigrants and refugees. However, it has been criticized for pushing trainees out the door as quickly as possible and into potentially exploitative, low-paying jobs.

Approaches to workforce development are imperfect triangulations of employer presence, employment urgency, and marketable skills in specific geographies. As The Learning Shelter put it on its Indiegogo page, “the businesses creating jobs now are usually small, heavily reliant on technology, and lacking large training budgets. They count on their new employees walking in the door with at least basic knowledge and the ability to learn more quickly.” I find the Learning Shelter compelling because if its founder is any example, then digital fabrication skills (and fab lab access) ready people to work for companies just as much as they plant the seeds for small businesses (the founder acknowledges that this is not a magic bullet, but he sees it as an exit strategy). I’m holding my breath, and for several reasons. There are three days left on the Indiegogo campaign to raise $60,000. The hopeful kickoff date is March 15. The Learning Shelter wants to run four people through its pilot and—if it’s successful—30 more through its inaugural class. But the crowdfunding campaign has only raised $12,500.

I’m from the San Francisco Bay Area, and I want to see good things grow out of there. I’m in Cambridge right now, and it’s easy to take making for granted when you’re at Media Lab. Everyday, I’m surrounded by colors and lights and sounds. Whirligigs burst out of every corner and hang from every ceiling—so many that of all the people who call ML home, no one person could tell you what everything does.

Two MIT grads began their own makerspace after striking a deal with OK Go and Nokia: It would burn thousands of pieces of toast for a music video shot on a Nokia camera in exchange for three laser cutters. They became Danger!Awesome, a makerspace in Cambridge, Mass.

Most of it starts in our basement. We have 3D printers, 3D scanners, laser cutters, milling machines, welding equipment, industrial sewing machines, a water jet, and more. We have dedicated staff who keep us safe while helping us understand the capabilities and limitations of materials and machines. For some of us, it’s just rapid prototyping. For others like me, it’s a quick fix for creativity when we’re in need of a research break. It’s incredible to have a mechanical wonderland just a few flights beneath our feet, and it’s incredibly liberating to be able to make the things we imagine. But then there are those for whom it’s really, truly liberating in a way that us ML community members can’t even understand.

Fab lab enthusiasts are no strangers to ML. Among ourselves and our visitors—companies, newsrooms, educational groups, national governments—we wonder how building fab labs might be applied to diverse use cases, and whether those uses could be classified as job training. I’ve used the lasercutter on wood, cloth and paper. My friends and I joke about etching custom logos onto chocolate and pint glasses. But these tools can be used to make something far more meaningful: an exit strategy—a way for people to make things, but also a way for them to make their own lives. So fingers crossed: I really hope The Learning Shelter meets its goal because San Francisco could use that sort of ambition.