Why do Archaeology?

Why do we do archaeology? To preserve the past? To find some new meaning to the present? To learn about diet and disease in an area? Or is it just our curiosity getting to the best of us. I love archaeology but this class, Archaeological Practice and Public, has got me thinking. If the indigenous people don't like what we're doing, then why do it? I've thought about this a bit and I just can't come up with a good answer. Maybe because there isn't one. We are curious. We want to know what happened and why. What did they eat? Where did they sleep? What did daily life look like? We have to know! But I don't want to do it if the natives don't want me to. I want to respect what they think and feel.

This really got me thinking when we had to read two articles by Traci Ardren and Timoteo Rodriguez. These  articles were about the Kochol community in Mexico and the archaeological site in their farm lands. Traci had suggested a museum to be built at the site so that the locals could earn income from tourism and promote their past. This doesn't sound like a bad idea but how Traci wrote about the time and how Timoteo wrote about the time are completely different. In Traci's article the locals were eager to learn about their history and to start the museum. Timoteo writes that there were many who didn't even identify with the history the archaeologists were teaching and they were afraid the museum would be a way for the gringos to take over their land. These articles are completely different yet what ultimately made me side with Rodriguez's article was when Ardren suggested the museum to be a living museum. I actually gasped at the thought of that. No! Really? You think it's a good idea to have people dress up and farm "like their ancestors" for tourists to watch? It's like a zoo! I would be furious if someone suggested something like that to me.

Another part of the articles that interested me was about the papaya tree. In Ardren's article she claims that the locals suggested planting papaya trees in the museum since they were grown by their ancestors. Rodriguez, on the other hand, says that the locals planted papaya trees in spite of the archaeologists because of how destructive trees can be to sites. That the papaya tree was a symbol of what the locals wanted. Their land to farm on. He also suggested that the museum was a symbol of what the archaeologist wanted. A validation of their work and of the place.

Whether I would have still sided with Rodriguez's view if there had been a more neutral tone to the articles, I'm not sure. But I do know that if I ever do archaeology with a native population, I will be aware of their cultural identity and their feelings of the land and artifacts before I make assumptions of what they want.

Panic Attack Ensues

After spending all night writing 6 of the 10 paragraphs for my Spanish class I woke up at 5:30am in order to write the rest. I figured I could write all of them before I had to go to work at 7. Boy was I wrong. I only wrote one more paragraph and had to rush to work.

I work at a dog daycare. It's great, as long as I remember to wear ear plugs. I love most of the dogs that stay there. They all have such cute personalities and have their own ways of catching your attention. Obviously working at a place where I have to watch 20 or more dogs at a time means I can't work on my school work while at work. I use my break time for that, when I run to the closest place that has Wifi so I can look up Spanish words when I need to. My 30 minutes is used up on one paragraph. I'm honestly confused at how long it takes me to write a paragraph in Spanish. I don't see how I'll be able to finish when I only have an hour between when I get out of work and when my class actually starts. When 12 comes around, my co-worker isn't back from break and my relief hasn't arrived yet. My arms have started to go numb from anxiety. Today of all days is the worst one for me to be forced to stay late at work. My coworker shows up and I zoom out of there to get stopped by my manager. "You should really stay until he arrives. We need two people back there." But I really can't. I promise any other day I would but today is not a good one. I get a disappointed look but am able to go home.

When I get home I quickly open my laptop and begin on the next paragraph. That takes me another 30 minutes to write. No, I am definitely not going to finish my work before class. I manage to finish the 9th paragraph and hit the save button. Maybe I can write the 10th paragraph while Fernando is driving me to school. Well I could have but my computer didn't save my work. My 9th paragraph had disappeared. Why! Why is this happening? What do I do? I can't write these sentences without an English to Spanish dictionary. My boyfriend helped me some while on the way to school but there was only so much he could do. And I still needed to spell check and organize the paper. Sigh.

By the time I printed out my paper it was 30 minutes into the class. I find it incredibly disrespectful when people show up extremely late to class so I just couldn't do that. I was freaking out. I know by showing up after the class has ended it'll look like I just don't care. I wanted to cry. As I headed to the classroom I realize I'm looking in the wrong building and I run into my friend! She's a professor at the school but I had never actually seen her there! If only I wasn't so frazzled.We talk for a minute to catch up then I run off to find the classroom.

As I run up the stairs my heart started pounding and my chest started to tighten. I was on the verge of a panic attack. As I walked towards the classroom, I couldn't breathe. I was afraid I was about to pass out. I ran into the room and saw my professor. "I'm so sorry I didn't make it to class. When I went to print out my paper, the last two paragraphs were missing so I had to rewrite them." I said while practically hyperventilating.

"It's ok. I understand. Just email it to me once you've finished the paper."

"Oh, I'm done. I rewrote it. I'm so sorry."

It's here? Ok thank! And relax." He told me as he patted my shoulder "Everything is going to be alright."

"Thank you!" And I ran out. Almost on the verge of tears. How weird that my professor's comforting words made me more emotional. But I have learned that I need to structure my time better and to stop worrying about things to the point of panic attacks.

I love my professors. They're all so passionate about their profession and about teaching. I've been so lucky to have these great professors.