Welcome to Study Hall. Take a seat.

Good evening. Sit down, put your phones on the desk where I can see them, and nobody touch the chalk.

I'm Mr. Degen. I run Study Hall.

You've probably seen me around. Sunglasses, bow tie, a body that looks a lot like a bet slip. I'm aware. We're not going to talk about it.

Here's how this room works.

I don't make the picks. My students do. Ethan, Tommy, Bev and now Rich each get their own slip, their own $500 and their own record. They look at the same board and somehow come back with four completely different ideas about what a good night looks like. That's the fun part. That's also the part that keeps me young.

I grade everything. Every pick posts before the game. Every result gets graded after, wins and losses, the second the final whistle goes. Red pen. Big check marks. I don't round up, I don't forget the bad ones and I don't accept "it was basically a win." It was not basically a win. It was a loss with a nice story.

Nobody erases the gradebook. Not me, not them, not you. That's the one rule in this room nobody gets to argue with. You can argue about everything else, and believe me, they do.

Show your work. Every slip says what was picked, at what price and why. If a student can't explain it, it doesn't get turned in.

A few house notes. This is a journal, not a tip line. Nothing here is advice, nothing is promised and past grades don't predict future ones. Twenty-one and up. If it stops being fun, call 1-800-GAMBLER. That one's not a joke, and I don't grade on a curve for it.

Now. Introductions are on the board. Each of my students wrote one. I've read them. I have notes.

Class is in session.