“You joined this class because you want to be entrepreneurs. But from what I could gather from the...illustrious introductions you all just gave, very few of you have ever failed. You’ve worked incredibly hard and jumped through the right hoops, checked the right boxes. But the thing about innovating is that you will work one-hundred-hour weeks, not for the six-figure checks you’d get if you went into established industry, but for doors to be slammed in your face. You don’t work hard and then succeed. You work hard and then you fail, you fail and then you fail again. And then, finally, just when you want to give up for the three-hundredth time, you succeed more than you could ever imagine.

“I teach for this school and I make this class application-only because I don’t waste my time with students who aren’t worth it. I ensure that those who make it through my class leave having gained something, and I advocate passionately for my past students. But if they don’t have what it takes—the intelligence and technical skill, yes, but also the willingness to fail—they don’t get to have me as their teacher. You proved you had the first two in your application. Now let’s see the latter.” The professor stands up and steps away from his desk. “Over the next three weeks, you will form groups of three or four and come up with a product that you will pitch to me, as if I were a VC, the next time our class meets.”

A murmur ripples through the room. The professor continues, unfazed. “There are no well-worn paths here. There are no test prep books or study guides for innovation. You must go forward, maybe for the first time in your life, with no clear direction set out for you. You can reach out to mentors, read books and do research, but in the middle of the night, when part of your project isn’t working, you have just you and your equally blind teammates to count on. With that in mind, I hope you choose wisely.” He walks behind the desk and picks up his briefcase.

“I expect you to sink, but try to swim. This is, after all, worth a third of your grade for the class. Go ahead and get working. I’ll see you in a month.” With that, he walks out the door in the front of the classroom.

The lazy dude sits up with a start at the sound of the closing door.

The rest of the class is in stunned silence.

A few rows up, Sara stands and looks around, a stricken expression on her face.