Apply for an "Easy Major"? Why Big Consulting Companies Often Recommend Strategies That Benefit Them More Than Applicants

Maya had the profile of a future computer scientist: advanced programming courses, a robotics title, open-source code under her name, and a summer internship where she built real software. A big college consulting firm told her to hide all of it. Their advice was to apply as a Classics major to top universities, then switch into computer science after admission. The plan looked clever on paper, and gave the consulting firm a headline win for its website and brochure, but it left Maya trapped.

She enrolled at a university that capped internal transfers into computer science just as she arrived. Two years later she was still locked out of the field that defined her high school years. Her transcript looked scattered, her motivation dropped, and her family was paying for semesters that did not bring her closer to her goals.

The irony is that her authentic record, programming achievements, a robotics championship, real-world engineering experience, would likely have been her strongest case. The “easy major” strategy was a win for the consultant’s advertising pitch. It cost Maya time and money.

Why this advice spreads

You hear this tactic so often because it flatters everyone’s hopes. Families want options. Consulting firms want wins they can count. Consultants like to brag that they have a student who got into every Ivy League that year, even if the path for the student is ultimately longer. A single admit to a top-ranked school is easier to market than a student who found a perfect fit at a less splashy campus. Add in group think and a handful of real cases where it can work, and a narrow tactic mutates into a rule of thumb. That is where problems begin.

How admissions actually works

Colleges do not follow one script. Some admit you to the university first, then ask you to choose a field after you have taken real classes. Others sort you at the front door by college or program. Many public flagships use a hybrid, where you start in a broad division, then face specific gates to enter popular majors. Knowing which model you are dealing with will shape both your odds and your day to day reality once you arrive.

University-wide admission, major chosen later

At schools like MIT, Stanford, Harvard, Yale, and Brown you apply to the university, not to a program. You explore, then declare a major after your first year or so. Princeton asks applicants to indicate A.B. or B.S.E. on the form, but students are still admitted to the university first and choose a concentration later. In this model your intended field does not control the admit decision. Picking an “easier” intended major on the application does not help. The strongest approach is to show depth, curiosity, and coherent work, then use first year advising to find the best academic home.

Admission by undergraduate college or program at the front door

Other T30 schools sort you before enrollment. Penn requires you to pick the College of Arts and Sciences, Engineering, Wharton, or Nursing. Selectivity differs across those doors, and movement later can be limited. Cornell evaluates you inside a specific college such as Arts and Sciences, Engineering, or Dyson for business, and internal transfer is competitive and conditional. Columbia asks you to choose Columbia College or the School of Engineering and Applied Science. Movement between them depends on preparation and space. Carnegie Mellon shows the sharpest differences. The School of Computer Science admits far fewer students than other divisions, and switching in after the fact is very rare. If your heart is set on a high demand field at one of these campuses, the safer plan is to secure that seat at entry.

General college first, then capped or gated majors inside

Many public flagships admit first years to a broad college, then control entry to popular majors with named prerequisites, GPA thresholds, and seat limits. Berkeley places most students in Letters and Science as undeclared, but declaring Computer Science requires specific gateway courses with a minimum GPA, while changing into Engineering later is uncommon. UCLA functions in much the same way. Engineering, Computer Science, Nursing, and Film have very low admit rates at the front door, and internal transfers into these programs are tightly controlled. Georgia Tech considers your indicated major during review to balance the class, and recent policy changes restrict switches into Computer Science after enrollment. Michigan admits to LSA, Engineering, and sometimes a direct admit business cohort, with cross campus transfers by application rather than by request. Virginia does not admit first years to McIntire Commerce at all, so every student applies internally later. North Carolina admits to the College of Arts and Sciences first, then runs competitive entry for Business and Media. In this model the fine print matters. Those gates determine what you can study and when you can start.

Direct to major

Direct to major at the front door: some universities admit you straight into a specific major, with limited ability to change later. Many of these are first-choice only, meaning the department will consider you only if you list that major as your first-choice on the application. If you put it as a second choice, you will not be reviewed for it. At UIUC’s Grainger College of Engineering, several high-demand majors are first-choice only, so they do not even appear as second-choice options, while Engineering Undeclared can be used as a fallback second choice. At the University of Washington’s Allen School, you must list Computer Science or Computer Engineering as your first-choice to be considered for Direct to Major, and students who are not admitted directly are unlikely to switch in later.

Where the side door goes wrong

If a school admits you straight into named programs inside a college, and if students are allowed to move among those programs later, then there can be small differences in odds. For example, a College of Engineering might admit students directly to mechanical, environmental, or materials engineering. If environmental engineering is slightly less crowded, and you are genuinely open to either path, that choice can be a strategic but honest move. The same is true for materials science versus chemical engineering. These are examples of comparing odds within the same family of fields, where both options still fit your record and your future.

The trouble comes when students stretch this logic too far. If your entire record points to computer science and you suddenly declare an intention to major in Classics, the file stops making sense. Admissions officers are not just counting majors, they are looking for coherence. They expect your courses, projects, and recommendations to align with your stated interest. A mismatch can make the application look engineered rather than authentic, and authenticity is one of the few currencies in a process where thousands of students already have top grades and scores.

Even if you make it through the door, the gamble can collapse once you are on campus. Many high-demand programs cap enrollment, set strict GPA cutoffs in gateway courses, or forbid internal transfers entirely. That means you can spend semesters chasing prerequisites while classmates in the program are moving ahead with core coursework. And colleges change policies. In recent years, several top schools have tightened or even closed internal transfer routes into crowded majors like computer science. A path that looked possible when you applied can be blocked by the time you arrive.

This is why we don’t recommend applying to a major you could not conceivably imagine pursuing. If you could be happy with environmental engineering instead of mechanical, or statistics instead of data science, then leaning toward the slightly less competitive option can make sense. But if you apply as an art major while secretly hoping to switch into finance, the risks far outweigh the supposed benefits. You could end up locked out of your true field, paying tuition for courses you never wanted, and carrying an application narrative that never rang true in the first place.

The strategic question, then, is not “What is the easiest major?” but “Which of my real interests are viable at this school, under its current rules?” Build your application around those answers, not around a loophole that might close before you even step on campus.

How to choose without breaking your voice

Start with a policy map for each school on your list. Look up whether the campus admits to the university, to a college, or to a major. If it is a college or major gate, read the internal transfer page for your target program. Note capacity language, course lists, GPA thresholds, and deadline rules. If the program does not accept internal transfers, accept that as fact and decide accordingly. This takes an evening and saves semesters.

Then align your story to the work you have actually done. The strongest applications read like a single thread pulled through courses, summers, independent projects, and community impact. If you have two real threads, name them both and describe the problem that sits at their intersection. If you do not, drop the costume. You will write better, your recommenders will be more specific, and your reader will feel a student who knows why they do what they do.

A word to families hiring outside help

Good advising helps students say what is true with clarity and structure. It does not chase headlines. If a counselor suggests applying to an easier major, ask for the exact policy pages that support the idea. Ask what happens if the switch never opens. Ask how the choice strengthens the honesty and coherence of the file. If the reasoning leans on anecdotes or vague assurances, slow down. Your student’s name, not a firm’s logo, will sit on the enrollment line.

The Bottom Line: Choose fit over shortcuts

Maya’s story is not unusual. Policies shift, caps tighten, and students who counted on a side door often find it sealed shut when they arrive. What looks like clever strategy for a consulting firm chasing headlines can leave real students stranded outside the programs they love.

The bigger truth is that at many of the very schools families worry most about, this strategy doesn’t even matter. MIT, Stanford, Harvard, Yale, and many other top-ranked universities are major-blind: you apply to the institution, not a field. Whether you write “physics” or “classics” on the application has no impact on your chances. At Princeton, Chicago, and several engineering schools with a common first year, the sub-major you check also makes no difference. That means a large share of the “easy major” advice you hear is wasted energy from the start.

If you do have two related interests and could thrive in either, then it can be smart to lean toward the one that admits more students at a school that actually reads by program. That is authentic strategy. But applying as an art major when all of your work points to finance, or calling yourself a future classics scholar when your real identity is in computer science, is not strategy at all. It is a gamble built on a fragile story.

College admissions rewards coherence and preparation, not costumes. The best way to strengthen your odds is to build a clear map of each school’s policies and to present the work you have already done with honesty and depth. Families who follow this path may not end up with every Ivy League logo on a consultant’s brochure, but they end up with something better: four years in a program that matches who they are and what they are becoming.

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