Has Business School Changed Us… For Good?

One of the hallmarks of the HBS experience is the false dichotomy — being pushed to decide whether something is good or bad, right or wrong; whether we should buy, sell, invest, or forget. The philosophy behind this is simple: forcing a choice can help us articulate what it is we believe. It strips away the comfort of nuance and exposes the core of our thinking.

Earlier this year, I wrote “Is Business School…Wicked?” because I saw striking parallels between HBS and the musical Wicked. I wondered if that story might serve as a kind of roadmap for navigating this strange, dazzling new world — a world that challenges us to act from courage, not fear. I ended that piece with a reflection: “Being lucky enough to be changed ‘for good’ starts by getting to know those who challenge you most. And that’s the way of the wicked.”

Now, as we approach the final days of the spring semester after months of transformation in our minds, bodies, communities, and world, I find myself wondering again: Has HBS changed us… for the better?

And what does for good even mean? Does it mean becoming better stewards of the future? More effective builders of power? Bold enough to take risks for the world we envision? Simply doing right by our families? Or perhaps being able to build bridges of connection across oceans of difference?

Over the last month, I’ve been asking classmates around Spangler tables, in Ubers, and on SFP couches: “What have you changed your mind about since coming to HBS?”

The answers were as wide-ranging as the students themselves.

The most common first theme? Money. Many say their finances now feel like Monopoly dollars, detached from reality. Some shared that their “number” (as a proxy for their target personal net worth) has significantly increased. In contrast, others see the race to the top as a sure path to misery, after studying CEO after CEO in our cases who seemed anything but envious of the responsibilities they found themselves carrying. For many, the dream of choosing a less lucrative path feels painfully difficult to justify, particularly when the opportunity to make more is within reach — an opportunity so many would do anything for. Others express frustration at the constant pressure to make economic sense of every decision, often wondering if there are bigger things to consider than money.

But once the conversation moved past money, it almost always turned to people whom they speak about with both admiration and admonishment.

One classmate, visibly annoyed, reflected on how often we treat the most personal, painful conversations about war, identity, and justice with the same breezy candor we’d use to launch a new product. At the same time, a section-mate spoke about how much they had grown in their ability to confront difficult topics with confidence — topics they would likely face in positions of power one day. Is HBS a school that builds confidence? Is that good?

Central to our pedagogy is learning a single set of skills — analysis, debate, and decision-making — and applying them across wildly different domains, from pricing to politics, regressions to ethics. We train ourselves to make decisions about products, policies, even nations and people we may never know personally.

I, too, wrestle with this idea of proximity. It feels vitally important to stay proximate to the people, products, and policies we will have power over, yet the higher we rise, the more impossible it becomes to fully maintain. Can we still be good and lead from afar? Could spending a year away from reality in windowless classrooms begin to make us forget about the problems that once felt so close?

And when I close my conversations with people by asking, “Do you think you’ve changed for the better?”, the room usually falls quiet. A long exhale. A head tilt. The familiar feeling of being caught between a false dichotomy.

Some say they have grown in empathy, understanding, and awareness of issues they had never previously engaged with. Others say they have become more cynical, more tempted by power, and more attuned to a life of lavishness. Many say their values haven’t changed, but their ability to act on them has deepened.

As we bask in the hot air of a Harvard degree, inflating our sense of confidence, it’s hard to ask: does HBS teach us to do what’s right? To act out of courage like Elphaba? Or does it teach us to hoard power out of fear like the Wizard? Or are these just tools that we can use to accomplish what we already wanted? Does that make us good people or just lucky? I don’t know.

But I do know that Stephen Schwartz titled the final duet in Wicked “For Good” as a deliberate double entendre. It means for the better and also forever.

Whether or not HBS has changed us for the better is something only time will tell. Because the case method doesn’t give us an answer. Rather, it offers a glimpse into the paths we will travel, where it will be our turn to decide — and future HBS classes will judge.

As the finale of Season 3 of The White Lotus reminds us: time gives life meaning. Our stopover in Aldrich is not the real world, and it’s our time beyond here that will give this experience meaning. But the time we’ve spent in the same room every day with the same people covering 300+ cases — that’s surely changed me forever.

Will Hennessy (MBA ‘26) hails from New Canaan, CT, where he watched his first TED talk in Ms. Steidl’s high school poetry class. Inspired, he eventually spent seven years working at TED Conferences, building a new podcast network media strategy, and most recently serving as the Director of Special Projects. Outside of work, he loves teaching courses in the outdoors and cares deeply about the power of friendships and K-12 public education.