Mickey Mouse’s MBA

How Disney became the protagonist of five courses, six frameworks, and an entire degree.

After exposing the Buffett Conspiracy™ last semester, in which I revealed that Warren Buffett is either secretly the lead MBA course head or an AI model built by HBS, I swore I was done with institutional whistleblowing. Surely, I thought, there could be no greater mystery lurking in the bowels of Aldrich Hall.

I was wrong.

This semester, I’ve noticed something even more pervasive, more insidious, and, somehow, more magical: Disney.

I initially thought it was just a coincidence, but it soon became clear that I was trapped in a semester-long cinematic universe. Marketing examined Disney’s theme park expansion plans. Finance tackled the company’s capital allocation strategy. Strategy unpacked its streaming ambitions. 

Then the slope got slippery. Suddenly, I was in Accounting debating how to amortize The Lion King and in Negotiation pretending to be Bob Iger’s assistant’s assistant fighting for office space on behalf of a fourth Moana movie that doesn’t even exist yet.

That’s when it hit me: I am in five classes this semester, and four of them have a Disney case. Different classes, different professors, different teaching objectives, and yet, the same mouse.

The Many Faces of Disney

Each class insists that its Disney case is totally unique. “This isn’t about streaming strategy,” they say. “This is about organizational culture.” Or, “sure, you read about its acquisition of Pixar last week, but this case is about board governance.” And somehow, they’re all right.

But from a student perspective, the cognitive whiplash is real. On Monday, I’m applauding Disney’s bold M&A strategy. On Tuesday, I’m criticizing its reckless overextension. By Wednesday, I’m calculating depreciation schedules for a talking snowman. And on Thursday, I’m arguing that Elsa is actually a metaphor for activist shareholder pressure.

I feel like a corporate method actor. I’ve played the role of a strategist, an accountant, a governance expert, and a literary critic for Inside Out 2. I’ve balanced budgets for imaginary theme parks and defended the moral integrity of Cinderella’s misunderstood stepsisters. At this point, if tomorrow’s assignment asked me to standardize the operations of Tinker Bell’s fairy dust supply chain, I’d start building a model before I finished my coffee.

Theory #1: Disney Is Secretly Running the Curriculum

The leading theory is that Disney isn’t just in the curriculum; it’s in the driver’s seat.

What else could explain its omnipresence? According to several highly credible sources, FIELD isn’t about learning how to operate across cultures and business contexts. Rather, it’s a covert executive training program designed to staff Disney’s C-suite by 2050.

“I don’t even think I’m going into entertainment,” said one RC while flipping through yet another 30-page case with Mickey Mouse on the cover. “But at this point, I feel like they’re grooming me to be Vice President of Streaming Synergies.”

A leaked syllabus for a new EC class seems to confirm this theory. The course, Disney: Past, Present, Future, Forever, will cover topics like:

• Module 1: “Intellectual Property and You: How to Monetize a Talking Animal in 13 Different Ways”

• Module 2: “Vertical Integration for Fun and Profit: Acquiring Pixar, Marvel, Fox, and the Concept of Childhood”

• Module 3: “The Frozen Franchise: A Case Study in Capital Allocation, Feminism, and Existential Despair”

Theory #2: It’s All the Same Case, Just Rewritten 500 Times

Another theory is that professors aren’t writing new cases at all; they’re just hitting “Save As” on the same Word document and swapping out a few nouns.

Think about it. The protagonist is always Bob Iger (or, if the case is old enough to qualify for Social Security, Michael Eisner). The strategic dilemma is some version of whether to buy another entertainment company or initiate a hostile takeover of the moon. And the exhibits are simply updated princess headcounts. Exhibit 3 might read, “Number of Blonde Heroines, 1995-2025,” while Exhibit 4 might say, “Synergy Potential Between Talking Animal Sidekicks and Toy Sales” and Exhibit 5 might be titled, “Percentage of Global GDP Now Controlled by the Disney Vault.”

But depending on the course, the framing changes:

• Strategy: “Should Disney vertically integrate into content distribution?”

• Finance: “How many princesses can Disney buy with $50 billion in debt?”

• Accounting: “How do we amortize a princess over a 15-year useful life?”

• Leadership: “How does a princess feel about being amortized?”

It’s like academic Mad Libs. Change a few words, add an income statement, and boom: a brand-new case.

Theory #3: We’re in the Disney Cinematic Universe (DCU)

Some students believe that the cases aren’t meant to stand alone at all. Instead, they’re part of an interconnected meta-curriculum that spans multiple classes and disciplines.

The evidence is compelling. Characters reappear across cases. Decisions made in one class directly contradict ones made in another. One professor even referred to a case as “the Disney sequel.” At this point, I half-expect a post-credits scene after Accounting where Bob Iger turns to the camera and says, “we’re assembling a team.”

The Long-Term Consequences

Some might argue this repetition is a good thing. After all, studying the same company across contexts deepens understanding. However, I still worry about the long-term implications.

Imagine graduating from HBS and interviewing for a job at a company that isn’t Disney.

“What’s your view on our capital allocation strategy?” the CEO asks.

“I’m glad you asked,” you reply. “First, I’d acquire Pixar.”

Or worse, what if we’re unintentionally creating an entire generation of MBAs with a single, highly specific skill set, like a Pokémon that can only use one move?

“I can’t speak to your SaaS pricing model,” a future CFO might say, “but if you ever decide to monetize animated rodents, I’m your girl.”

The Happiest Place on Earth

At the end of the day, maybe this is the point. Business school isn’t about learning how every company works; it’s about learning how one company works from 87 different angles and then extrapolating wildly.

So yes, I might graduate knowing next to nothing about manufacturing, energy, or healthcare, but I will know exactly how to restructure Disney’s capital stack, launch a new streaming platform, navigate a board crisis, and calculate the weighted average cost of capital for a cartoon duck.

And isn’t that what leadership is all about?

Michelle Yu (MBA '26) is originally from Cresskill, New Jersey. She graduated from Columbia University with a degree in Film and Media Studies and worked for CNBC, NBC News, and CNN prior to HBS, along with projects for HBO, Showtime, Oxygen, and Spectrum. Outside of work, she is a 2x marathon runner, American Songwriting Awards winner, and filmmaker whose work has screened at the Tribeca Film Festival and AMC's Empire Theaters in Times Square.