From Zero to Seventy-Eight

The origin story

I just wrapped up my first week of teaching this semester, and despite being in the classroom for a while now, the excitement hasn’t worn off. This is my fourth-semester teaching Entrepreneurship at The University of Texas at Austin, and every day, I’m struck by the potential I see in my students. It’s a reminder that the journey to bring value into the world isn’t something you do alone—it’s a relay, and I’m just the guy handing off the baton (Sorry, I'm still on a Summer Olympics high).

Let’s rewind a bit. My teaching journey wasn’t exactly scripted or typical. The Spring semester of 2023 marked my debut as a professor with an undergraduate course on Technology Transfer. How did I get there? It’s a question I get asked often, so here’s the origin story.

While working on my Master’s at UT, the class superlatives rolled around, and I got tagged “Most Likely to Become a Professor at McCombs.” The funny thing is that I hadn’t seriously considered it until that moment. I mean, a professor? That’s PhD territory, right? Especially at a prestigious institution like UT. But then I came across a newsletter by Michael Peterson, my New Venture Creation professor, titled “How to Become a Professor Without a PhD.” Spoiler alert: He even wrote a book on it.

Fast forward to the summer after graduation, I stumbled upon an email from Mike about open teaching positions for the Fall 2022 semester. Strategy, to be exact. I reached out, and he encouraged me to apply. Fresh out of the program, I still had some connections, including a key one— the Management Department Chair. A strong letter of recommendation from her was the golden ticket. But, like all good stories, there’s a plot twist. Fall 2022 didn’t pan out. There are no open classes for new faculty, or at least for me. Michael assured me he’d keep me in mind for the future.

Now, here’s where I diverge from the usual script. Most people might have taken the rejection and moved on, but I’m not most people. I became obsessed. I dove into the university’s course registrar, pinpointed courses I knew I could teach, and then went to work. I developed syllabi and teaching plans from scratch and sent them to Mike, making it clear that I was in this for the long haul.

Going above and beyond isn’t just a quirk; it’s my nature. Take my Apple interview, for example. They gave me a business case to work on and suggested I spend about four hours on it. I spent the entire weekend assembling a 26-page business case with customer journey maps, risk assessments, and priority matrices. My hiring manager later told me no one else came close. I wasn’t just applying for a job but proving I wanted it.

Back to teaching. This week, I asked my students how many had summer internships and wanted to return to those companies post-graduation. Nearly every hand shot up. I told them that they should keep working on the problem they tackled over the summer if they wanted that job. Imagine showing up a year later with continued work, refined recommendations, and new insights. It’d be hard for that employer to say no.  I could almost see the gears turning in their heads.

Persistence payed off. Eventually, Michael reached out, impressed by my initiative, and promised they’d find a spot for me. I even got to guest lecture, proving I could develop lecture material and hold a room. Then, the break I needed: a longtime professor retired, leaving a gap in the schedule. The course was at 8:00 AM—perfect for balancing with my role at Apple. It was on Technology Transfer, which directly aligned with my Master’s in Technology Commercialization. I had a few months to prep, and with the course materials needing a refresh, I essentially started from scratch.

Enrollment? A different story. When the first sign-up period ended, only five students had enrolled. I was crushed, convinced they’d cancel the class. But the department decided to give me a shot, betting on future growth. That bet paid off. By my second semester, I had 36 students; by the third, I had 68. And now, 78 students are filling my classroom. I even made the Faculty Honor Roll in my second semester—a recognition given to only 20 undergraduate faculty across McCombs, based on student ratings.

So, here I am, teaching entrepreneurship to a roomful of eager minds. My mission? I can only create so much value on my own, but if I can teach my students how to generate value, that impact becomes exponential. My first lesson? Entrepreneurship isn’t about making money on a whim. It’s about creating meaningful, impactful change in the world. And if I can pass that along, well, then I’ve done my job.

Which leads me to why I’m writing this blog. Why spend more of my precious time writing about what I’ve learned and what I teach? The answer is simple: I can only teach so many students in a classroom. But if I want to scale my mission to inspire and educate on a broader scale, this is how to do it. I hope to reach others passionate about entrepreneurship, innovation, operations, and leadership through this blog, newsletter, and social media posts. If I can spark even a small amount of curiosity or ambition in my readers, this effort will be worth it.

Don’t get captured,

Zach