In mid-April of this year, Ms. Laucher reprimanded five employees for not making enough networking connections on LinkedIn, for neglecting to read a book she had assigned, “The Start-Up of You,” and for not submitting their résumés to her for help. The next day, all five were fired. The staff of the program in West Virginia, two of those former employees said, now consists of Ms. Laucher’s brother and sister.

And several weeks ago, Ms. Laucher announced on social media that she had been accepted to law school in Chicago.

Asked if this was the end of Mined Minds, Ms. Laucher wrote: “Absolutely not. Still going.”

Since the class in Beckley ended, Stephanie Frame has mostly stayed home.

As she recounted her experience with Mined Minds in her living room, her husband, Roger, just off work, sat down and listened. It’s always the same here, he finally said.

“They’re coming here promising stuff that they don’t deliver,” said Mr. Frame, his hands and face still gray with coal dust. “People do that all the time. They’ve always done it to Appalachians.”

He recalled the pittance his great-grandparents sold their mineral rights for, and what they got from it: the coal company tearing down mountains and building roads wherever it wanted. Timber, coal, oil and gas, “it repeats itself,” he said. “It’s like a never-ending cycle.”

Members of the Beckley class still keep in touch on a private chat group they call “Disenfranchised Appalachians.” Nearly everyone they had worked alongside has quit or been fired, though some said they had learned a lot from their work at Mined Minds. One, usually described as the program’s clear success, found a programming job in South Carolina.