Quintessentially Amherst: An Alumnae’s Experience of Triple Majoring

At Amherst, I did not just study three disciplines — I lived them. My triple major was not a checklist of requirements, nor was it a resume strategy. It was a way of embracing the full experience of a liberal arts education. Music, English, and mathematics were not separate pursuits but three facets of how I understood the world. If Amherst prides itself on giving students the freedom to explore, then I am someone who took that freedom and ran with it.

That’s why I was devastated to learn that Amherst has decided to discontinue the triple major. This change does not affect me as an alum, but it represents a loss of possibility for those who come after me. It is not just a logistical decision — it is a narrowing of the paths students are allowed to take.

I understand the faculty’s concerns. They may worry that students are triple-majoring out of pressure, that they are sacrificing breadth for depth, or that some pursue additional majors without meaningful engagement. But instead of addressing these concerns with thoughtful policies, Amherst has chosen the simplest, most restrictive solution: an outright ban. For a liberal arts college — one that prides itself on interdisciplinary exploration — this approach is deeply disappointing.

Triple majoring, as Sarah Wu ’25 mentioned, is a journey. When I applied to Amherst, I intended to major in English — I had grown up as a writer. However, my first declared major was music: As I continued exploring Amherst’s offerings, what had once been a high school passion evolved into my career goal. Upon coming to Amherst, I also decided to take at least one STEM class every semester, beginning with math. Over time, my interest in mathematics deepened, especially as I began dating my highly mathematical boyfriend (now husband), whose encouragement and passion for the field inspired me to explore it further.

Some argue that a triple major sacrifices depth, while others argue that it sacrifices breadth, which is a little ironic since the two arguments are polar opposites. However, I ultimately consider both opinions flawed. My three majors spanned three of Amherst’s four academic divisions: arts, humanities, and STEM. I took courses in 19 departments. I completed two senior theses: a 40-minute musical composition and a 37,000-word novella, both of which received summa recommendations. Though I didn’t do a thesis in math, I completed two 400-level classes and finished a 10-page paper with heavy proof. I know Amherst students before me who completed three theses and earned triple summa, pouring themselves into their disciplines with depth and rigor. The problem is not that triple majoring dilutes education — it is that Amherst no longer trusts its students to know what kind of education they need.

Though one can criticize “committing to numerous majors in order to earn credentials to look more desirable to employers and graduate schools,” it is prejudicial to assume most triple majors come about this way. As a music school applicant, my math and English majors will likely have zero influence on my application. I studied English and math just because I wanted to.

Beyond intellectual fulfillment, majoring in a subject at Amherst is also about access to resources that one otherwise would not have. Amherst’s small class sizes and limited course offerings mean that major priority is often the difference between being admitted into competitive courses or not. It determines eligibility for faculty advising on theses, independent projects, and research. I did not major in English solely for my love of literature; I needed to major in English to write my novella project as a thesis, which came with faculty support. I needed to major in music to secure recital space, receive funding for two lessons, and have a structure allowing me to compose and conduct my own large-scale work.

I have to admit that a triple major was, in many ways, also circumstantial. It was a decision shaped as much by the limitations of my environment as by my own instincts. Amherst’s small size gives it a sense of intimacy, but that intimacy comes with constraints. My commitment to a music career made me lonely. Many nights, I practiced in Arms until after midnight, then walked out of the empty building into the darkness, feeling a deep sense of loss and solitude. It took me a long time to realize that perhaps I devoted myself to English and mathematics not just out of love for those subjects, but because I needed something to hold onto — so that my soul would not be confined to the midnight practice room. So that I could escape the feeling of being trapped within a single discipline.

Despite the amazingness of our music department, it is not a conservatory. There is only one orchestra, limited funding, and a small number of high-level classes that rotate biannually (or even longer-term). When resources are finite, waiting becomes inevitable. I took every opportunity I could — two-thirds of my credits are music — but it still was not enough for me. And like a growing tree, once I realized there was no space to grow upwards, I instinctually grew sideways.

I am not the only one who has faced the ceilings of Amherst’s small size. Last year, as a senior math major, I mentored a first-year friend from the class of 2027 who had already started taking graduate-level math courses at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst. By the end of the year, he made the difficult decision to transfer to a university. As he confessed to me, taking half of his courses at UMass and diving deep into academics made him feel disconnected from the Amherst community. I deeply empathized with his choice. Compared to our sister school Williams, Amherst students do have the unique resource of the Five College Consortium — an invaluable way to push past the limits of a small school. However, that resource comes at a price. Some can easily afford it, but it’s especially difficult for those of us who struggle to build connections outside of close academic settings. I am glad that my friend found his own way out. I, too, found my own remedy.

Had I been at another institution, my path might have looked entirely different. If I had been at a larger university, I might have pursued a BA/MA in comparative literature or a BS in engineering or pursued a Bachelor of Music alongside a BA degree. But I did not go to those schools. I went to Amherst. And in this particular world, my triple major was not a strategic decision but a natural consequence of where I was and who I was becoming.

Triple majoring is definitely not for everyone. Despite completing three majors myself, I have never encouraged others to do the same. In my case, I have a deep passion for studying different disciplines, and my lifestyle allowed for this level of academic commitment. I was not an athlete with hours of practice, nor a natural scientist tied to intensive labs and research. I was also not particularly drawn to socializing or partying. Because of my autism and ADHD, I found that concentrated study across different areas actually improved my efficiency and helped me stay intellectually engaged rather than overwhelming me. While most of my classmates in the class of 2024 graduated with 120 credits, I finished with 198, not including my audited courses. That is a workload I would never recommend lightly. Whenever underclassmen ask me about triple majoring, I always urge them to think twice — it requires not just passion, but an understanding of one’s own limits and learning style.

At its core, this decision reflects a lack of trust. As a student, I didn’t feel that my education was something given to me — it was something I built, piece by piece, semester by semester, in conversations with professors who believed in my vision. I was given the freedom to follow my instincts, to push beyond what I thought I could do, to embrace the terrifying possibility that I might fail. That was what made my experience extraordinary.

If the faculty’s concern is students’ lack of diversity in course selection, then they should make specific restrictions regarding over-majoring in the same field, or their ban should be limited to those who have multiple majors in the same categories. If the faculty’s concern is that some students pursue multiple majors to build resumes without meaningful engagement, then a better solution would be to require a substantial final project for each major. As a friend of mine put it: “If you didn’t do a thesis or some large project in a field, then it seems sort of silly to award an additional major for it.” That would be a far more intellectually rigorous policy than banning the triple major altogether.

A college that respects student agency should provide guardrails, not roadblocks. It should trust its students to know what kind of education they need. Amherst, at its best, has been a place where students are given that trust. I hope it still is.