Corey Moss-Pech is an Assistant Professor of Sociology at Florida State University. His research focuses on the relationship between higher education and labor markets to better understand stratification and social mobility outcomes. His scholarship places particular emphasis on gender inequality and its intersection with race and class. Corey has published in Sociology of Education, Social Forces, Qualitative Sociology, the Washington Post and other outlets. His first book, Major Trade-Offs: The Surprising Truths about College Majors and Entry-level Jobs, is out now from University of Chicago Press. You can find him on X @CoreyPech, Bluesky cmpech.bsky.social or learn more on his website https://coreymosspech.com/
Here, I interview him about his book.

AMW: Your book highlights how liberal arts majors often end up using their degree skills more directly than their peers in so-called “practical” majors, yet they receive less institutional support and lower pay and receive cultural messages that devalue their degrees. What does this suggest about how we define success and value in higher education vis-a-vis the job market? And how does this reproduce inequality across fields of study?

CMP: Understandably, there’s a lot of discourse—both in public commentary and among higher education practitioners—about the return on investment (ROI) of a college degree. When we think about the value of a degree, we often focus on whether it pays off financially. This makes sense. College has become significantly more expensive, public funding for higher education has declined, many students take on substantial debt to attend college, and labor markets have become more uncertain and unstable. So, it’s reasonable for people to wonder whether their degree will ultimately pay off.

As a result of these concerns, many colleges have placed greater emphasis on so-called “practical arts” majors—fields of study directly tied to specific occupations. For example, engineering is both a college major and a job title. From a narrow ROI perspective, these practical majors do tend to yield higher short-term earnings than liberal arts majors. But this framing undervalues other important aspects of people’s work experiences—such as the opportunity to use their skills and find meaning in their jobs.

Popular narratives often assume that high-paying jobs are also the most skilled. Think of engineers designing robots, writing code, and developing algorithms—work that’s seen as both in-demand and skill-intensive. But that assumption doesn’t always hold true. In my research, as discussed in my book, I found that liberal arts graduates are actually more likely to report using their skills in their entry-level jobs. So, if we think about the value of a degree in terms of doing interesting, skill-intensive work, not just short-term earnings, we see real advantages in liberal arts education.

In fact, liberal arts graduates tend to catch up in earnings over time. They’re not handicapping themselves in the long term. This matters especially when we consider who is choosing which majors. Students aren’t randomly assigned to fields of study. Many college majors are highly gendered, and liberal arts disciplines—which are often devalued in the labor market—are disproportionately chosen by women, students from disadvantaged backgrounds, and people of color.

This creates a double devaluation: the majors themselves are seen as less economically valuable, and so are the students who pursue them. As a society, we need to recognize that liberal arts degrees provide critical skills that are in demand—even if they’re not immediately rewarded with high salaries. If we want to promote equity among college graduates, we must acknowledge that all degree fields impart a mix of practical and general skills. It’s not just students in practical majors who go on to use those skills in the labor market—liberal arts graduates do too, and commentators often miss this essential truth about the college-to-work transition.

AMW: Your book challenges the assumption that a college degree guarantees meaningful or intellectually engaging work. How does this mismatch between degree field, employment conditions, and job content affect how young adults think about work, identity, and purpose after graduation?

CMP: That’s a great question—and an interesting one—because you’re right: there’s a real disconnect between people’s employment conditions and the actual content of their jobs. What I found in my research is that many graduates from practical majors, particularly in business and engineering, often land high-paying jobs that are overwhelmingly clerical in nature. These positions frequently involve routine tasks like data entry or sending emails, and many of the people I interviewed were unhappy in those roles.

One example I write about in my book is a student named Courtney, who graduated with a business degree and started working for a greeting card company. On paper, it looked like a solid job. But in reality, 90% of her day was spent emailing salespeople in the field to check if they had any problems. The role required very few of her actual skills—and not much of her time, either. In the introduction of the book, I talk about how, on a good day, Courtney had maybe two hours of work. She’d go on long lunches, come back to no emails, and her bosses wouldn’t even notice she was gone. She was extremely dissatisfied with the lack of challenge and meaning in her job.

That said, liberal arts graduates didn’t always have it easy either. Many found roles where they could use their skills, but those jobs were often low-paid, unstable, or short-term. Another example from my book is Jennifer, who moved to New York City to work for a social media firm. She enjoyed the creative writing aspect of the job and found the media work fulfilling. But the pay was low, and there was no room for advancement.

So yes, it’s a real struggle for graduates to find work that is both meaningful and well-compensated. Some do manage to get both—and I wish I had the secret formula for how that happens—but I don’t. At the end of the day, students face real choices. They can pursue high-paying, stable jobs that often end up being clerical and corporate in nature. Or they can look for work that feels meaningful and makes use of their skills, even if it pays less and offers fewer opportunities for advancement.

Ultimately, most people want to feel like they’re using their skills. And I think employers could do a much better job at actually utilizing the full range of talents their employees bring to the table. For young people, it’s important to understand this trade-off. If you go for a more practical, so-called “safe” major, you might end up in a job that’s financially stable but not very intellectually engaging. If you follow a liberal arts path, you might find the work more fulfilling but less financially secure.

Everyone’s definition of purpose is different, and people need to choose what’s right for them. One of my favorite examples is a graduate I call Vance in the book. He worked at an African American community center, earning just $23,000 a year—the lowest salary among full-time workers in my study. But he loved what he did. He believed in the center’s mission and found the work genuinely interesting. Still, like many others in similar situations—including a number of English majors—he eventually left the role to pursue something with more stability.

So yes, it’s a tough balance. But I hope my book gives students and graduates a clearer, more informed perspective as they navigate these decisions. It’s not just about choosing a major—it’s about figuring out what you want out of your work and career.

AMW: Given your findings, how should parents, educators, and policymakers rethink the advice they give students choosing college majors?

CMP: I think it’s important to start with the scope conditions of my book. My research focused on a large Midwestern public research university—one that isn’t particularly selective or what people might consider “elite.” This context matters. If you’re at a highly elite institution, like Princeton, where they only offer liberal arts majors, then major choice might not have much of an impact on long-term outcomes. On the other end of the spectrum, if you attend a low-income serving, open-access institution, you might also see less variation in outcomes by major. But for this broad middle—large research universities that aim to serve multiple constituencies and offer a wide range of programs—the trade-offs are more pronounced.

For students at these kinds of institutions, I would say: major in something you find interesting but go in with your eyes open. One of the key things my book helps clarify is the trade-off many students face—between high-paying but often clerical work, and lower-paid but more meaningful or interesting work. Understanding that trade-off can help students make more informed choices.

It’s also important to note that the gaps between majors are the biggest early in graduates’ careers. Over time, liberal arts students tend to make up ground. What my book really shows, though, is that liberal arts graduates often start using their major-specific skills right away in the workforce, something that’s frequently overlooked.

There’s often a tendency—even among liberal arts advocates—to talk about college as either preparation for the labor market or as a place for personal and intellectual growth, as though those two goals are mutually exclusive. My book challenges that idea. It actually defends the liberal arts using the very criteria that are usually used to justify practical majors: workforce readiness. Liberal arts graduates do have market-relevant skills immediately after graduation. And that’s something parents, educators, and policymakers should recognize.

So, while practical majors do offer certain advantages, it’s not always because of the specific skills they teach. A lot of their benefits come from things like institutional support, connections with employers, and broader cultural ideas about what types of knowledge are seen as “useful.” As I discussed earlier, these forces shape how we value different fields of study.

In the end, at these large, comprehensive universities that offer a wide range of majors, students should feel empowered to study what interests them. And we, as a society, should invest more in the liberal arts and be less dismissive of their application to the workforce.

Alicia M. Walker is Associate Professor of Sociology at Missouri State University and the author of two previous books on infidelity, and a forthcoming book, Bound by BDSM: What Practitioners can teach Everyone about Building a Happier Life (Bloomsbury Fall 2025) coauthored with Arielle Kuperberg. She is the current Editor in Chief of the Council of Contemporary Families blog, serves as Senior Fellow with CCF, and serves as Co-Chair of CCF alongside Arielle Kuperberg. Learn more about her on her website. Follow her on Twitter or Bluesky at @AliciaMWalker1, Facebook, and Instagram @aliciamwalkerphd