A Tale of Two Days

Wednesday was one of the least fun, most wretched trip days in Greece so far.  Upon disembarking from the bus in Piraeus, the ancient and modern port of Athens which is just a few kilometers away, we were told to watch our step and look out for "syringes and human excrement."  Our professor wasn't kidding - never, ever have I seen so much shit, in so many colors, textures, and sizes, in one day of my life.  I even considered taking a photo, but since I once unfriended someone on Facebook for posting photos of her baby's poopy diaper, I decided to spare you all.  But consider this a background theme of the day. 

Then the wind and the rain started.  Sheets and sheets, which would stop just long enough to instill hope for a rainless future, only to start again.

The low point was standing in the pouring rain looking at the very scanty foundations of the Arsenal of Philo (which, bizarrely, doesn't have a wikipedia entry for me to link you to) in the middle of a building plot, listening to a presentation...before we realized that not 20 feet away was a perfectly good roof to stand under.

From under the roof.

Wait, I take that back: the low point was during our lunch break, when we tried to have a picnic on the bus, and the bus driver kicked us off, at the high point of the rain, because he had to move the bus.  We huddled together in a doorway, passing around hunks of bread and jars of peanut butter. 

But, like most things in Greece, the discomforts were balanced by pretty incredible archaeology finds and spectacular views. 

Crashing waves, the ancient fortification wall, modern city; the island of Aegina comes into view at left as the clouds clear.

Block for standardized measurements such as a foot, a hand, and a cubit (because, you know, everyone's fingertip to elbow is a different length).  So cool!

The other bits were fairly normal, but the hand was HUGE!

But also, this.

And that was going to be the end of this post, but I had a pretty spectacular day today, as days in the library go, when several things I've been working on for a long time finally came together and could be crossed off the list, including submitting an abstract to a national conference next fall, completing the handout for my presentation on Crete next week, and getting preliminary permission to stay in Greece for the summer to complete a museum studies requirement and play around with glass (more on that, hopefully, in a bit, provided it works out). 

But the most exciting, scariest, and monumental was finally sending my first ever article for peer-review to a journal editor for publication consideration.  On my final read-through this morning, I was feeling nostalgic for the journey this piece of scholarship and I have gone through together, from my first playing around with the idea and collecting data early in Fall 2011, complete surprise at the structure which emerged from the data, the first seminar paper it generated, its submission and eventual acceptance at an international conference last March, playing with more charts and ideas, experimenting with various visualization softwares, the second seminar paper, a summer of figuring out images and phrasing which would be appropriate for other people to actually read...  And, holy cow, is that last one a scary step: it's a long jump from a seminar paper with an audience of one or even a conference paper, with an auditory delivery and a lifespan limited to 20 minutes, to conceiving an article which anyone, anywhere, at any point in the next several decades could read and even use in their own research.  This, of course, is the ultimate objective of the whole academic discipline - to produce the kind of work people will read, cite, and internalize, which will contribute to our overall understanding of and appreciation for the human condition - and for me, the culmination of many years of writing, learning, thinking, and training as a student to become a scholar.  I feel totally, completely, 100% ready to make this jump, and I am damned proud of the article I sent off into the world today.

In Defense of Archaeology

I'm teaching this semester, and my students have to turn in questions every week based on the reading. It's intended to be a quick assignment but to show me they've done the reading and get them to think about the concepts a little bit. I would call it a marginally successful exercise.

Anyway, one of my students turned in the following today as his questions.
"1. How does knowing who and what a house was for 2500 years ago help in the advancement of civilization? It's not like looking back is going to help. We know a lot more now than they did.
2. Why does all this matter? I feel like the only reason for archaeology is for oohs and aahs at museums and a quick history lesson. I feel that we don't need to know half this stuff."
Then an explanation:
"These questions/comments aren't meant to offend. I just don't understand the importance of it all. Maybe it's because I'm an engineer. Over the whole semester, I've felt this, and this reading was like pouring gas on an inferno. I mean, this stuff is cool and all, but it's like a new pair of shoes: they're cool for about a day, then it's just blah, and in the grand scheme of society, let alone the universe,, it doesn't really matter. The biggest thing I can't stand is "it could be..." I feel that all I've heard this whole semester. I can't stand a subject based mostly on speculation, because the "facts" are always changing. The whole thing is based on opinions & speculation."

Well. Maybe it was because he was so thoughtful and reasonably articulate about it, maybe it's because he's a good student and a nice guy, or maybe it's because he totally struck a nerve, but I was compelled to respond to him via email with the following.

I just wanted to thank you for your thoughts and candor in the questions
you turned in this week.  You raised many important, compelling points and
- believe it or not - I don't disagree with you on most of them, and these
are issues that I have and continue to struggle with.  You are entirely
correct: most of this stuff makes absolutely no difference to anyone except
the 10 people in the world who have decided to care.

I would make a few points in defense of archaeology (which may or may not
change your mind a little bit, and it is more than ok if they don't).
First, of all the humanities, it's the only one which is based specifically
on data, and, moreover, can produce new data to test theories.  Archaeology
in general is moving towards being more "scientific" in methodology (which,
unfortunately, hasn't trickled down to intro level courses yet.  But if you
took something like Intro to Field Archaeology, I think you'd have a much
different experience and impression).  So, while there is a lot of rampant
"It could be" or "possibly" speculation, there actually is a fair amount of
stuff we know now about how people lived in the past than we did 50 years
ago based on new finds and new theoretical models.  The origins of sea
faring in the Mediterranean
(http://www.nytimes.com/2010/02/16/science/16archeo.html) is one really
recent and dramatic example.  The coolest thing about archaeology, I think,
is that unlike other branches of humanities, we're actually interested in
concrete evidence and figuring out questions about what "really" happened.
Sure, some of it is unknown, and perhaps ultimately unknowable, but you
never quite know when a new discovery will be made that resolves a question
for you in a really concrete, solid way.

Your second criticism - why does it matter - is a little bit harder.
Personally, I think the reason why it matters is that the past has shaped
the present in every way possible.  Who we are is dictated by who we were.
Issues such as heritage are really salient to and powerful for people
(think about the Elgin Marbles and NAGPRA issues we discussed in section).
We miss some of this, as Americans - we don't have the sort of deep roots
in a place and continuity of culture that other cultures do.  Some people
make an argument for studying the past based on not wanting to replicate
mistakes and learn from our collective human experience (like, why we need
to remember the Holocaust).  I don't know that I buy that particular one so
much because I don't think we do learn from those experiences in any
substantive way.  For me instead, the amazing thing about the past is often
how similar it is to the way we live now - or how different.  And those
similarities and differences help us not only understand ourselves better,
but also other cultures and groups that we may encounter. For example,
we're trying to build a democracy in a tribal culture in Iraq.  Can the
example of how Solon formed a democracy in a clan-based society help with
this at all?  And what does archaeology tell us about this process that
texts don't?

Like I said, my aim here is not to change your mind - I wouldn't last a
second in an engineering class; my brain just doesn't work that way, and
when you signed up to take this class, you didn't sign a contract to love
the subject.  But I did think your comments were worth reply, and I wanted
you to know that I myself, as well as other people in this field, do think
about these things and are aware of the inherent difficulties."

And I had a nice thoughtful reply from him. I hope he appreciated my thoughts. I sure did his.

Return of the Mack

Well.

It's no secret to many of you that I had a bit of a rough Fall. I attribute this to many things: the move and missing old friends and my old city, lack of enthusiasm about most of my classes, generally getting used to the pressures and politics of a new department, community, and peer group, and, perhaps most significantly, the lack of direction which follows the achievement of a long term goal. For years, getting to this point - namely matriculating in the PhD program at Michigan - has really been my motivating force, the goal to which I directed all my professional efforts. And, now that I'm here, now what? Not to mention the completely depressing thought that I am 27 years old and just beginning this long march toward a doctorate. After working so hard to get to this point, all it seemed I had gained in return was the opportunity to work even harder to get to the next point - and I was not at all sure what I wanted that point to be. Figure six years more of this, then the race toward tenure - when would it end? Thoroughly demoralizing.

So I would get home at the end of the day and feel totally uninspired to write or think more about archaeology. This blog is supposed to be about the love I have for my field, and love I could not find. The last thing I wanted to do was confront and complain about all these frustrations, and I was operating under the "if you can't say something nice..." premise.

But, I now face a new semester and a new year. The dreaded first semester is over. Even better, I'm officially done with Greek! Any more Greek I do from this point forward will be of my own free will and I will have no one to blame but myself for the pain it causes. I'm genuinely excited about 3 of my 4 classes, and neutral on the fourth. (Compare last semester, when I was neutral at best on all 4, even from the onset.) I have several resolutions for myself to make this semester better. Many of them are personal and designed to help me get out of the departmental bubble of stress and anxiety in which I have resided for the last several months. But perhaps most significantly, I think I have found a new 'ultimate' goal, a new aspiration to define and direct my forward progress from this point.

I spent last weekend at the Archaeological Institute of America annual meeting in Anaheim. I had no real reason to go, beyond showing up to appear invested in the field and hopefully network a bit. I ended up being extremely glad I did, though. My old undergraduate department is hiring, so many of my old professors who don't typically attend the meetings were there. We had an impromptu reunion with a few other former students who happened to be around, and it was just brilliant. These are the people who originally inspired me to do this with my life, and they have always been supportive, encouraging, and just a joy to spend time with. Both of my graduate school departments have also been good, and I have no real complaints about them, but the atmosphere is just different. I'm a favored child of my undergrad department, and they have known me for a long time - a benefit of friendships I'm coming to appreciate more and more the older I get and more people I know.

There was also a great session about Career Strategies for graduate students in archaeology. The panelists were frank but also encouraging, and they made a lot of points which were nice to hear (not least of which is that being older, and having more life experiences, is all the better these days on the job market). And suddenly it dawned on me: my 'ultimate' goal is to have a tenured job at Macalester, or at least a similar institution. A high performing, liberal arts school in an urban environment that values scholarship and teaching, multicultural experiences, and has great departmental dynamics and support. Sure, a lot always depends on timing, what jobs open when I happen to need one, but as far as thinking about how I ultimately want to tailor and market myself goes, this is a pretty concrete and, I think, attainable goal.

So there it is. The next real, big goal of where I want to end up. I still hope to run my own field project one day, and want to keep some doors open toward working in non-profits or NGOs instead of the academic market (shhh, don't tell), but in all reality - who am I kidding - academia it will be.

I feel a spark of the love returning. Time to fan the flame.

My Funny Valentine

In honor of Valentine's Day weekend (I wanted to write this post yesterday, but life got in the way), I will take this opportunity to reflect upon the major love of my life: archaeology.

In the ubiquitous 25 Things meme on Facebook, I posted "I more or less consider myself married to archaeology, and I am exceedingly grateful that I found an occupation I love, seem to be capable of doing, and which will pay my bills." As I've watched three very dear friends get married in the last year alone, I've come to realize that I, like them, have been lucky enough to find a soul mate too. Sound like a strange analogy? Let's call archaeology "Bob" for the rest of this post. Allow me to tell you our love story.

Bob and I met in college, sophomore year. I quickly found that I preferred him to all other men, and would rush through all my homework so we could spend time together. However, even after a month together in Israel the summer between junior and senior year, when we discovered that we could be together for sustained amounts of time, I wasn't sure I was ready for a full, life-long commitment. We talked about moving in together for a couple years, perhaps at Cornell, but he didn't have the financial means to support me and I wasn't ready to move.

Like all couples after college, we had to work to redefine our relationship outside of an academic, collegiate environment. I still wasn't sure if I was in for the long haul, but after exploring other options, I realized Bob was vastly superior to them. Alas, I was ready to spend our lives together, but my period of waffling in college made him unwilling to extend the same commitment to me. So we moved in together, in Minnesota, where I managed to prove to him and the rest of the world that I was serious, and we belonged together.

Bob and I spend evenings, weekends, and vacations together. I don't get tired of him; in fact, the more I learn about him, the more intrigued I become. When I'm feeling crummy about something, Bob always manages to make me feel better. Sure, our relationship is far from perfect - we occasionally have different interests, so I have to do things I don't enjoy in order to spend time with him, and sometimes I resent that he takes time away from my friends and family. But when he "proposed" a week and a half ago, I knew it's all been worth it. I don't know exactly where Bob and I will land, but I know we'll be together, and he'll take care of and support me for a long time. So yesterday, Bob and I hung out in the library for a few hours, where I remembered that I'm the luckiest girl in the world to have found him. He's just so complex and interesting.

That maybe turned out a bit weirder than I thought it would.

The Choices We Make

It's been a relatively quiet week after the flurry of excitement that was a week ago. I had a bit of a panicked weekend, as happens every now and again, when I became really anxious about getting things done. The latest stressor is the publishable chapter I have to write for a class this semester. My adviser is teaching a class on "Artifact Analysis," the whole point of which is to finish the chapter on the weaving implements from the same site my beads were from. But because too many people signed up for the class to work on just the weaving implements, we divided into "squads" and I am essentially in charge of the weaving implements team. The trouble is, trying to find a time when four busy people with incredibly different lifestyles can meet to even begin to decide how to do this project is impossible. And I'm concerned that the rest of my group isn't taking this as seriously as I am, considering this to be the same as a project or paper they'd write for any other class. I, however, take the responsibility of this much more seriously. Not only will our names be attached to this thing for all time, but people's impressions of the site and of this body of material will be strongly colored by the interpretation we give to it this semester. It took me almost a year to finish the beads chapter. Becoming familiar with the extant scholarship and the assemblage of finds, not to mention organizing and writing it all up, takes a significant amount of time. How we will accomplish that in a mere 2 1/2 months is beyond me, especially when we can barely find a time to meet. And because I am the graduate student in the group, as well as being the person that I am, I'm afraid all that responsibility will fall to me. It will require major effort on my part anyway to trust other people and not totally control the project.

Anyway, all that responsibility came down on my head Friday afternoon, and I spent just about all weekend finishing up the beads paper before I submitted it this morning. Only about a quarter of that time was on my part - the rest was dealing with an extant manuscript about the stone beads that had incomplete citations, notes instead of sentences, and incorrect information. Fun times.

It was unfortunate that this work compunction came about in the midst of a weekend with a lot of other activities. I missed several events because I was working. And while this isn't totally unusual or unprecedented, excepting major events for which I plan ahead to take the entire day "off", it seemed harder and more isolating this time around. Maybe it's because I thought this semester would be lighter. Maybe it's because now that I'm into a PhD program, I'm less focused and motivated. Maybe, just maybe, it's because deep down inside somewhere, I prefer my work to my social life, but refusing 3-4 invitations in succession because "I have to work" starts to seem like hiding after awhile.