W

hen I first started applying to colleges, 
I was often amazed by the number 
of choices available at every school. 
There were so many majors, so many classes, so 
many student organizations — the world seemed 
to be my oyster. Michigan seemed to dominate 
in this realm, and I came to school here for this 
very reason. However, it wasn’t just the sheer size 
of their programs; it was the fact that U-M was 
nationally ranked in seemingly every single one of 
them. They also had schools dedicated to special 
topics, such as the School of Information, whose 
classes usually would be tucked into a computer 
science major at another school.
Although I knew I wanted a good combination 
of quantitative and qualitative elements — some 
math and some writing — I hadn’t settled on an 
exact field of study. I was a young student in the 
College of Literature, Science and the Arts, and 
I was comforted by its offering of 85 majors and 
more than 100 minors. There were also 14 other 
schools within Michigan that I could apply to, 
and with Michigan having strengths in both the 
sciences and humanities, there didn’t seem to be 
a bad option.
However, this freedom of choice was just an 
illusion once put to the test. I soon realized that 
taking one class meant I couldn’t take another, and 
that going down one major path meant I blocked 
off a different route. Each of those 14 schools had 
prerequisite classes I had to take before I could 
apply. Even though I would’ve only applied to 
maybe three of them, that still meant at least three 
prerequisite classes for each school. There was no 
way I could fit those in my schedule, while also 
fulfilling distribution requirements, and still be 
on track to graduate on time. 
Given I was constrained with a “budget” of only 
18 credits (about four classes) a semester, I had to 
figure out which classes within those 18 credits 
offered me the best balance of enjoyment, workload 
and need. I soon had to learn which classes I could 
afford to give up in order to take another, more 
interesting class. I couldn’t have my cake and eat 
it too; I had to make trade-offs between choices, 
and hopefully make the choice that gave me the 
greatest benefit.
For example, math eventually became a situation 
where the skills I gained paled in comparison to the 
suffering it caused. I didn’t really have an interest 

in taking math beyond upper-level calculus. When 
I first started, math offered me enough benefit (I 
could then major in Economics or other majors 
with math as a prerequisite) that it was worth the 
present sacrifice. However, at a certain point, the 
pain from taking math classes vastly outweighed 
the potential benefit that the cost outweighed the 
gain — the equivalent of negative marginal utility 

in economics. Thus, I closed myself off to any 
potential math majors, as well as statistics. 
I also learned that I had no desire to write papers 
all day, as I had originally thought when writing 
my college applications. I wanted to be a historian 
or a diplomat when I was in high school, but after 
recognizing I would never learn another language 
— I had taken 14 years of Spanish classes without 
achieving fluency — I closed these paths off as well. 
My original wealth of options was getting smaller 
and smaller by the day, and the joy I felt in having 

so many choices turned to anxiety.
All this time, my intended major was staring 
me straight in the face, but I refused to recognize 
it. The mental calculations I kept making, the 
realizations I had, all pointed straight down the 
path of economics. I was already thinking like an 
economist with the daily internal machinations I 
conducted, and it was only a natural step to devote 
most of my coursework to it. 
I could also say it was destiny; my mother and 
sister were both economics majors (the latter at 
Michigan), and I grew up being quite familiar 
with terms like marginal cost, utility and 
scarcity. But, in economics parlance, the choice 
to follow my mother and sister’s footsteps also 
maximized the utility I received from picking a 
major. 
There would be a substantial math component, 
but also a chance to do plenty of writing, building 
both my analysis and data handling skills. While 
I wouldn’t learn another language, I would get 
to see how different countries interact in the 
international economy, and how their cultures 
affect their relationship with the rest of the 
world. I would get to learn plenty of history, but 
also mix it with a lot of data. In short, I would get 
the real-world application with the knowledge of 
theory I craved. 
Majoring in an LSA department also gave 
me the chance to have that full liberal arts 
experience I desired when I was in high school. 
I’ve had the chance to analyze paintings in my 
French art history class, read articles about what 
it means to be an empire, take (another) semester 
of Spanish, and experience my first real coding 
class. Because the economics major requires 
fewer credits than many of the other majors I 
considered, I also have the chance to enhance my 
degree with a minor. In the course of fulfilling 
distributions, I might also get the chance to study 
abroad, and therefore travel outside North America 
for the first time. 
In a field of study defined by making tough 
decisions between two options, majoring in 
economics at the expense of something else 
ironically didn’t create a trade-off for me. I could — 
despite the strict bounds of rational choice — have 
all the things I wanted in my college experience, 
and even get to explore all those choices which 
initially bedeviled me.

Wednesday, October 9, 2019 // The Statement
2B

Managing Statement Editor

Andrea Pérez Balderrama

Deputy Editors

Matthew Harmon

Shannon Ors

Associate Editor

Eli Rallo

 Designers

 Liz Bigham

 Kate Glad

 Copy Editor

 Silas Lee 

 Photo Editor

 Danyel Tharakan

Editor in Chief

Maya Goldman

Managing Editor

Finntan Storer
statement

THE MICHIGAN DAILY | OCTOBER 9, 2019

BY ALEXANDER COTIGNOLA, STATEMENT COLUMNIST

Contradicting economics, 
with economics

y=mx+b
^2^”All 
this time my 
intended major 
was staring me 
straight in the 
face, but i refused 
to recognize 
it.”c^2=b
^2+a^2

