Though much of the first semester has already gone by, students are still guaranteed to ask the most typical beginning-of-the-year question—what classes are you taking? This attempt to get to know each other through our course load has become the new how are you? To forge connection, we naturally look for overlap. Bonding over shared classes is a simple way of connecting with someone new. So it is no surprise that frequent responses to this question include Econ 10a, a Stats variant, CS 50, and the Sleep GENED (“for balance”). But this uniformity should shock us. For a student body alleged to be the most intellectually diverse in the country, why are students all studying the same things?
Each class accepted to Harvard is curated to bring new perspectives on a variety of different subjects, acting as a beacon of diverse thought. According to entrance statistics conducted by the Admissions Office for the Class of 2025, intended fields of concentration varied greatly, with 28.1% intending to study social sciences, 25.9% studying biological and physical sciences, 18.4% choosing computer science and engineering, and 15.3% pursuing a course of study in the humanities.
Yet exit data tells an entirely different story. 63% of the Class of 2020 entered the workforce in finance, consulting, or technology. Despite starting with a diverse pool of interest, Harvard has converged the myriad passions and student aspirations into one homogenous outcome. These so-called “sheep” of our generation succumb to herd mentality and enter the same few fields.
Concentrating in a lucrative field is a practical decision but runs contrary to the entire premise of Harvard College. We are a liberal arts institution, not a pre-professional training program. The beauty of a liberal arts education, as Harvard claims to hold as the central tenet of its mission, is that learners do not have to be confined to any one discipline.
First-year Robbie Owen ’25 began his education in the United Kingdom, where he had to specialize at 16 years old in mathematics, chemistry, and biology. His career aspirations, however, lie outside the lab. Owen wants to pursue a career as a director. When it comes to concentrations, he “has no fucking clue.” When people ask, he tells them, “something in Biology”—but he admits, “maybe I’ll find something else that I love.” Owen says, “Part of the reason I wanted to do liberal arts in the U.S. is to figure out what I want to do without having to commit to one degree.” The flexibility of a liberal arts education allows students to pursue or explore career paths independent of our everyday classes, a luxury many college students across the world do not get to enjoy. The point of our time here is to discover what we’re passionate about, even if these passions don’t correlate with an assuredly lucrative career.
One possible explanation for the convergence of concentrations at Harvard is careerism—diverting away from genuine academic motivations to secure a high-paying job. Particularly for students from low-income backgrounds, career earnings can play a large role in discerning concentration choices. “In the United States, people who concentrate in the humanities have lower lifetime earnings than people who do other things,” concedes Professor Jay Harris, the course head of Humanities 10. However, the same does not necessarily hold true for students graduating from Harvard and other top universities, he says. Harris notes the importance of differentiating between different kinds of institutions when talking about the value of a concentration in strictly careerist terms.
Focusing entirely on the future can often lead students to forego their academic interests of the present. This shift towards outcome-based learning has yielded a phenomenon known as “dying concentrations” in the humanities. With so much emphasis on technical skill acquisition during our undergraduate years, concentrations like Folklore and Mythology have dwindled in numbers. Students seem to be embracing the teleological imperative, a phenomenon often studied in humanities classes that describes the tendency for students to sacrifice the means (choosing a concentration you actually like) to achieve the ends (securing a high paying job).
But careerism is short-sighted. “It doesn’t work because the job market changes every five minutes,” says Doris Sommer, Professor of Romance Languages and Literatures and African and African American Studies. “If you think you’re training to be a mechanical engineer, and then everything turns into quantum mechanics, you’re out of a job.”
The assumption that concentrating outside of STEM fields bars students from entering high-paying industries has measurable effects on department demographics. Harris attributes the theory “that you have to be an economics concentrator to get to Wall Street” to a slew of problems within the humanities—including the disproportionate representation of white, affluent, and female-identifying students. The notion that certain concentrations are a prerequisite for high earnings is dangerous, as it constrains the learning of students who place a premium on job prospects. Overwhelmingly, students who choose to study the humanities are able to focus on the experience of their education at Harvard, rather than a potential salary.
Not only does the profitability assumption limit diversity, but it is fundamentally untrue. While serving as the Dean of Undergraduate Studies at Harvard College for ten years, Harris met with many industry leaders and recruiters. When recruiters described their preferred qualities in new Harvard graduates, “almost invariably, they started with a range of qualities that humanities concentrators will certainly excel at, like communication, writing, and collaboration,” Harris says.
In fact, Big Tech companies need humanities concentrators. A recent visit from Brad Smith, Vice Chairman and President of Microsoft, to Harvard’s CS105 course sparked a discussion around the importance of highlighting perspectives of people with expertise outside computer science. His discussion emphasized communication between technology and government, highlighting a need for cross-disciplinary conversations and broadened understanding as we tackle seemingly intractable problems going forward.
Perhaps the most authentic and rewarding course of study involves a combination of passion and practicality. Sommer emphasizes that “the only thing to do in education is to learn skills and to learn curiosity.” Engaging in cross-disciplinary studies gives students the chance to grow practical skills for the industry of their choice without foregoing genuine interest. These initiatives also allow us to look at innovation from multiple angles. One example of Harvard’s efforts to cross academic borders is Embedded EthiCS, a recent program initiated to “teach students how to think through the ethical and social implications of their work.” Headed by Professors Barbara Grosz and Alison Simmons, the program combines the expertise of faculty in the philosophy and computer science departments to create curricula for various classes. Another such program is Renaissance Now, spearheaded by Professor Sommer as well as Professors Tarun Khanna and Francesco Erspamer, which champions the intersection between science and sociability, calling for a collaborative approach across humanities and STEM fields.
“The university is at a crossroads—it really does need to rethink what the future of good education is,” Professor Sommer states. Let’s hope that this future includes equal representation of diverse fields of study, with each student following a path they are genuinely passionate about.
Carli Cooperstein ’24 (carlicooperstein@college.harvard.edu) is the token Humanities person amongst her friends.
Maddie Proctor ’25 (maddieproctor@college.harvard.edu) can’t do math.
Thanks to Professor Jim Waldo for helping us access the referenced data and for hosting Brad Smith in his CS 105 course earlier this year.