Laff, N.S., S. Carls on. 2025. Johns Hopkins University Press . 240 PP .
A few days before heading to last year’s AACRAO Strategic Enrollment Management (SEM) Conference, I received a gentle nudge about a promised book review I had yet to write. The book was Hacking College: Why the Major Doesn’t Matter, and What Really Does by Ned Scott Laff and Scott Carlson. I hadn’t finished reading it, but a cross-country flight from Washington, D.C., to Las Vegas provided the perfect five-hour window to dive back in. Highlighter in hand, I revisited the opening chapters and continued through the rest, finding the quiet of the plane surprisingly ideal for absorbing the material.
As someone who works in enrollment management and student success, with 30-plus years of experience in the field, I found that the book immediately resonated. I connected its ideas to the work I do daily—advising structures, student pathways, and even how I personally planned to “hack” my SEM conference experience. The introduction, pointedly labeled “Don’t Skip This,” outlines the book’s central message: we have dramatically overstated the importance of choosing the perfect major. Instead, success comes from a flexible, student-driven process of designing one’s education with purpose. The authors preview concepts such as “blank spaces,” “hidden intellectualism,” and “vocational purpose,” serve as anchors throughout the text.
The premise is simple: some students succeed because they stumble upon the right mentors, opportunities, or elective choices by chance. Laff and Carlson argue that we can—and should—remove luck from the equation by teaching all students to use a “Field of Study” approach to intentionally shape their academic and co-curricular experiences. This idea hooked me from the start.
Chapters 1–3: From Blank Spaces to Field of Study
Chapter 1: “The Blank Spaces”
The authors begin by confronting the mixed messages students receive about majors, careers, and success. Most majors require only a small set of core courses; the rest of a 120-credit degree is made up of general education, distribution requirements, and electives—the “blank spaces.” Without guidance, students frequently select electives based on convenience instead of coherence, leading to what the authors call an “empty degree”—a diploma unconnected to any clear purpose.
This chapter argues for reimagining these blank spaces as strategic opportunities. Instead of drifting, students should fill them with courses and experiences that relate to an underlying theme, interest, or problem they care about. This reframing acknowledges something many of us in higher education have long suspected: success hinges far less on the chosen major and far more on intentionality, experiences, and networks.
Laff and Carlson also cite research—including Jeff Selingo’s There Is Life After College—to dismantle the myth that the right major guarantees a right job. They emphasize that what matters is how students integrate learning across courses, interests, and experiences.
Chapter 2: “The Myth of the Major”
Chapter 2 critiques what they call the “cafeteria model” of higher education: endless choices with limited guidance. Academic advising and career counseling often operate in silos, failing to help students connect their coursework to post-graduation goals. This gap leaves many students defaulting to a major early and hoping career clarity emerges later.
The authors discuss meta-majors, advising limitations, and the larger structural issue: students need help exploring interests while connecting them to the world of work. Their arguments reflect what many institutions—including my own—are observing in “pulse check” surveys: students are increasingly uncertain about career paths, especially amid rapid change driven by technology and AI. Laff and Carlson do not explicitly address AI, but the uncertainty permeating today’s job market makes their framework feel even more timely.
Chapter 3: “The Wicked Problem”
Here, the authors adopt the design theory concept of a “wicked problem”—a complex challenge with no simple solution. Planning for life after college, they argue, is a wicked problem. Majors alone cannot prepare students for a world where jobs are evolving rapidly.
To tackle this, they introduce the four-step Field of Study process:
- Clarify hidden intellectualism and vocational purpose—Identify underlying passions and learn about the hidden job market.
- Conduct a Research Investigative Inquiry—Interview professionals, gather insights, and seek mentors.
- Identify related learning opportunities—Pursue courses, internships, and activities aligned with emerging interests.
- Design an educational plan—Map coursework and co-curriculars into a coherent, flexible strategy.
This approach helps students turn uncertainty into exploration and blank spaces into meaningful pathways. As someone who oversees student success, I found myself thinking about how these steps could inform our own practices.
Chapters 4–6: Student “Hacks” and Success Stories
With the foundation set, the middle chapters bring Field of Study to life through real student stories. These narratives illustrate how purposeful exploration—combined with supportive mentors—helps students move from uncertainty to clarity.
Chapters 4 and 5: Tenacity and Student Autonomy
Stories of students like Sarah show how students who refuse to accept rigid academic boundaries can “hack” college successfully. Sarah exemplifies a student with multiple interests who, through persistence, informational interviews, and creative course choices, built an interdisciplinary academic journey that aligned with her goals.
Her story reminded me of a book titled More Than One Dream by Anne-Marie Atanga, a guide I reviewed recently that encourages students to pursue multiple passions. Hacking College offers a complementary, research-based rationale for that philosophy.
Chapter 6: “Visible Students and Agile Institutions”
One of the most compelling sections describes three Governors State University students—Kaylan, Tony, and Monique—who transformed their academic paths through Field of Study work. Each began as an “invisible” student: progressing but uncertain, lacking mentors, or unclear on next steps. With structured guidance, each found a niche connected to their passions and the hidden job market.
Laff and Carlson argue that these stories highlight where the greatest opportunity lies: supporting students at non-elite institutions, students who may lack the inherited social or cultural capital that wealthy peers use to “hack” college informally. This idea especially resonated with me as someone who has worked on student success initiatives at a large, diverse institution.
Their stories also could not have been better timed. At my SEM conference presentation, I shared data showing a slight decline in the number of first-year students who report having a clear career goal. Students today are arriving more undecided—which makes approaches like Field of Study more relevant than ever.
Chapter 7: The “Invisible” Student and Making College Matter
The final chapter focuses on the “invisible student”—those who are passing classes and meeting benchmarks but not meaningfully connecting academic work to future aspirations. These students risk graduating with an “empty degree.”
One poignant example is Diana, a student who did fine academically but stumbled into a career opportunity only because of a chance encounter at a grocery store. Her story underscores the central message of the book: students shouldn’t have to rely on luck to craft a meaningful career pathway.
The chapter closes with four questions for institutions considering a Field of Study pilot:
- Who is the target population? (e.g., undecided students, juniors, first-generation students)
- Who will serve as guides? (faculty, advisors, career staff, or a combination)
- Where will this work occur? (advising centers, career offices, seminars, bridge programs)
- How will success be assessed? (surveys, participation, experiential learning, or job outcomes)
The authors are clear: Field of Study is not about eliminating majors. As they write, “Field of Study does not mean getting rid of the major-minor system” but rather enhancing the educational experience so that majors matter less than what students do within and around them.
Personal Reflections: Field of Study in My Own Family
Reading Hacking College prompted reflections on my own children’s college journeys, both of which unintentionally mirrored the Field of Study model.
My Younger Daughter
She entered college as a business major but discovered a calling for dental hygiene after a summer job as a dental assistant. That experience—coupled with informal mentorship from a hygienist—helped her articulate her vocational purpose. She changed her major, graduated in May 2026, and continues to explore possible future steps, such as dental school.
My Older Daughter
At a liberal arts college, she double-majored in social sciences but found her passion through undergraduate research and strong faculty mentorship. Those experiences led her to a think tank job, where she confirmed her interest in analytics. She is now completing a master’s degree in data analytics at a highly selective university.
What stands out in both stories is that majors alone did not chart their paths—experiences did. Mentorship did. Field of Study thinking did. This realization deepened my appreciation for the book’s message: even students with ample social capital benefit profoundly from structured discovery processes. And for those without such advantages, this model could be transformative.
Conclusion: A Reflective, Impactful Read
My flights to and from the SEM conference became a makeshift writing retreat and an opportunity for deep professional reflection. Hacking College aligns closely with the questions many institutions are facing: How do we make college matter? How do we equip students to connect coursework, experiences, and aspirations—especially in an uncertain world?
This book offers a compelling framework, accessible writing, and a blend of theory and storytelling that higher education professionals will find useful. If there’s one potential drawback, it’s that the provocative title might be misinterpreted by those who think the authors want to abolish majors. In reality, their message is more nuanced and practical: the label of a major matters far less than the deliberate, purpose-driven design of a student’s overall educational experience.
Ultimately, Hacking College is both a critique and a call to action. It challenges institutions to break down advising silos, foster deeper mentoring conversations, and help students intentionally fill their blank spaces. It also reinforces what many of us know intuitively: that college should be a purposeful journey, not a roll of the dice.
After ten hours of reading and reflection at 30,000 feet, I returned from SEM not only ready to write this review but energized with ideas to bring back to my own campus. For anyone seeking to help students craft meaningful pathways from college to career, Hacking College is well worth the read—and may even inspire you to “hack” your own work along the way.
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