The Myth of “Best Fit”: Why Students Deserve Better Advice
In international education, few phrases are tossed around more casually or more frequently than "best fit." I was recently speaking with a group of high school students and parents, and I used it myself. At the end, one of the students asked what it meant. It made me think how we’ve used the term so much it has lost its meaning. When the very people to which we market “best fit” can’t define it, how is it effective?
Counselors assure parents that they are guiding students toward their best-fit schools. Recruitment vendors claim to prioritize best-fit matches. Universities boast about helping students find their best-fit programs. Beneath the surface, the phrase has become so ubiquitous, so sanitized, that it's lost nearly all meaning. Worse, in many cases, it's a smokescreen that hides a deeper truth that for many players in the ecosystem, the student's actual needs and aspirations are secondary.
The original idea behind "best fit" was sound. It implied a thoughtful match between a student's academic goals, personal values, financial situation, and the institution's offerings. Somewhere along the way, it became a euphemism. “Best fit” stopped being a tool of empowerment and started functioning as a tool of persuasion.
Who Benefits from the Current Definition of "Best Fit"?
Agents are often incentivized to steer students toward universities that pay commission. Counselors in elite or aspirational markets are often judged by the number of students they place into brand-name institutions, especially Ivy League or Russell Group universities. The result? "Best fit" becomes synonymous with what benefits the counselor, agent, or institution, not necessarily what benefits the student.
In these cases, a student with a 3.3 GPA and a passion for social justice might be told that a competitive economics program at a flagship university is their "best fit" because it looks good for the counselor or results in a commission. A student from a low-income background might be directed toward a costly private institution that doesn’t meet full demonstrated need because it's on an agent's preferred list.
"Best fit" is also too vague to be helpful. Fit… for what? Academic success? Career advancement? Personal happiness? Immigration opportunities? It means something different to each stakeholder, and yet it is wielded as if it is an objective measure. Even well-meaning counselors fall into this trap, using it as shorthand when they mean something more complex.
We owe it to students to be more specific. Instead of saying "best fit," we should ask and answer:
Does this institution align with your long-term goals?
Will this academic environment support your learning style and strengths?
Can you afford this school, both now and over time?
Will you feel a sense of belonging and support on this campus?
What are the real outcomes for international students in your intended major?
Fit or Filter?
There is also a darker side to the term. "Fit" is sometimes used as a euphemism for exclusion. Students who are perceived as different (culturally, linguistically, politically, or socially) may be labeled as "not a good fit" when what is really being expressed is discomfort with diversity. In admissions offices, too, the idea of "institutional fit" can become a proxy for bias, favoring students who look, sound, and behave like those already admitted. This weaponization of "fit" is subtle but real. It reinforces existing hierarchies and shuts out talented students whose potential doesn’t conform to traditional molds.
Purpose, Alignment, and Support
It’s time to move past "best fit" and start talking about:
Purpose: Does this institution help the student move toward a life they envision for themselves?
Mutual Alignment: Does the university value what the student brings? Will it grow because of that student’s presence?
Student-Centered Support: Does the institution have systems in place to support international students academically, socially, and emotionally?
These are concrete, measurable dimensions that can replace the vague and market-driven language of fit.
Students deserve tools and frameworks to make decisions grounded in their own goals and values. They need:
Transparency: Real data on graduation rates, job placement, OPT/CPT outcomes, cost of attendance, and support services for international students.
Narratives: Stories from current or former students about what fit looked like for them, the good, the bad, and the unexpected. Retire slogans and embrace stories. Students listen far more to their peers and those who have similar backgrounds than some lady who shows up at their school twice a year.
Advisors who listen: Counselors and agents who begin with curiosity, who listen more than they speak, and who treat student agency as sacred.
This is not to suggest all agents or counselors are driven by self-interest. The counselors I know and consider friends are deeply committed to their students, but the system is structured around incentives that too often run counter to what is right. A counselor may feel immense pressure to produce Ivy League acceptances to appease parents or administrators. An agent may face quotas to meet commission targets. A university may reward vendors who bring in high-volume applicants, regardless of retention or success.
Until we shift these incentives, or at least acknowledge them to students, "best fit" will remain more about perception than reality.
It’s time for a collective rethinking of the language and ethics of international student advising. What if:
Universities published detailed outcome data for international students by major?
Agents were paid not just for enrollments but for student success metrics (graduation, satisfaction, etc.)?
Counselors were evaluated on how well students thrived, not just where they were admitted?
We banned the term "best fit" unless it could be explicitly defined in the student’s own terms?
"Best fit" sounds like a service, but too often, it functions as a sales pitch. We need to stop selling and start serving. International students deserve better than a buzzword. They deserve honesty, transparency, and guidance that centers them. Retire "best fit" until we can say, with confidence and clarity, what it actually means, and for whom.