Coming out of high school, my vision of the collegiate experience was intimately tied to the idea of entrepreneurship. Even though it is drastically more commonplace now, the late 2000s felt inundated by stories of students formulating ideas and turning them into viable ventures within the sphere of the collegiate environment. It seemed as if the old rules of higher education as a pathway to career stability was making way for a new rules as the breeding ground for risk-takers.

When I arrived on campus at Emory University, the reality felt a little different. I entered at a time where entrepreneurship felt more like a buzz word than a concerted movement, but there was certainly an feeling that a shift was coming. At Emory, the difference between old and new felt more pronounced, as the few students in Emory key communities of business, medicine, and technology interested in entrepreneurship were demonstrably insulated from the broader community. Through involvement with various facets of the Emory startup community, I noticed a common thread of a few rather surprising traits between these future founders.

• Breaking out the gargantuan task of launching a company into manageable pieces might be key to building momentum for older, workforce-wizened founders, but student founders needed to be able to visualize their idea as intrinsically separate. Otherwise, it was common for the tasks that fell under the new venture to merge into ever-present list of items stemming from coursework and other extracurriculars, resulting in ineffectual prioritization favoring the non-entrepreneurial tasks that came with clear deadlines. Imperative to future founders was "protecting" the task of building as an isolated function, requiring an uninterrupted focus and heightened level of attention.
• As would be expected, confidence was key, as the road ahead meant approaching customers, investors, partners, etc. with a demeanor impervious to criticism or rejection. But students I met that had confidence in their ability gain quick proficiency in new skills or comfort amongst new communities felt increasingly rare. They felt the challenge posed by a transitioning to a new full-stack framework or adjusting their target market was within the natural course of their development rather than a disruption. And this type of confidence was often clear well before they embarked on an entrepreneurial venture; for example, a common thread was hearing them refer to difficult course as "intriguing" rather than "challenging" or "complex."
• And finally, there seemed to be an almost inverse correlation between risk tolerance towards new ventures and other "valuable" characteristics. Top performers in class, leaders of key organization, and well-connected students seemingly had the tools that translated well into key tenets of entrepreneurship, but didn't seem to have the incentive to pursue it. It was almost as if these students had pushed themselves into a "corner of success," while others felt comparatively free to make mistakes. This is likely true outside of the collegiate sphere, but it was further exacerbated by the "protector-ward" relationship between faculty and students. Professors encouraged students to thrive within known environments (e.g., academics), unintentionally disincentivizing students who achieve initial success there to change course.