I have, since starting this blog, received several emails from people asking how they can become archaeologists, or what to expect if they enter the field as professionals. It dawned on me that it would be useful to write up what I tell people so that I could just refer people here, and also it might let a few of the regular readers in on what professional archaeologists really do.
So, if you want to be an archaeologist, here's what you should probably know:
You Could've Been a Lawyer...or a CEO
One thing that I would say to would-be archaeologists is simply that they will spend alot of time training that could be spent pursuing better-paying careers. Now, this is not to dissuade these folks from getting into archaeology - I'm here, I spent the time and enjoy my career, so I definitely think that it's worth it - but the impression that I get from many people is that they think of archaeology as a field that can be easily entered, perhaps as a hobby, and it really isn't*.
A field technician is the "grunt worker" of archaeology (truth be told, they have to be intelligent and hard working, so they're hardly grunts, but this is often how they characterize themselves). Field technicians are responsible for carrying out the basic field tasks (walking survey transects, excavating units, screening dirt), as well as maintaining their own records for the project. Although some companies (and some projects) will allow field technicians who do not have a degree, you should expect that any field technician position will require a bachelors degree as well as field experience (at minimum a field school). Also, be aware that if you do an academic-oriented field school, you may not have gained the skills necessary to do CRM (cultural resource management) archaeology (consulting work and field/lab work geared towards keeping land developers in line with historic and archaeological preservation regulations), which is where the jobs are. Most field technicians work on a project-by-project basis, meaning that they should expect very little job stability, and you have to have a fair amount of experience before you should expect either a full-time job or a large number of employers keeping you busy as if you had a full-time job.
From field technician, you can work your way up to crew chief or field supervisor. On occasion, someone with only a bachelors degree and extensive experience will move up to field director or project manager. However, these jobs typically require someone with a Masters degree or a PhD (there are regulatory reasons for this, so it isn't just snobbishness). So, if you want stable, career-oriented employment in archaeology, you need to go to graduate school.
Myself, I attended a community college for two years, then transferred to the University of California, where I finished my BA. I then went to another University of California campus to get my MA. In between, I attended a field school and took other field and lab classes at Cabrillo College in Aptos, CA. All told, I was in college or graduate school for approximately nine years in order to get the credentials that I need for my job. Depending on the program that one attends, this could conceivably be done in six-to-seven years (I attended a research-oriented graduate school, so my MA thesis was a very different affair from those who attend CRM-oriented graduate schools). If you are an MA student, then there is not much funding available for you, so you should expect to take whatever jobs you can find while you attend school. Basically, don't expect to have a life outside of school and work.
This is comparable to (and very often exceeds) the education burdens on someone who is earning a law degree or an MBA. However, archaeologists should expect to make significantly less money than someone with a JD or MBA. So, bear that in mind while you rack up student loans.
You may have noticed that I focused here on CRM archaeologists and didn't talk much about becoming a professor. There's a reason for that...
Academics? Meet Consulting?
Although an increasingly large number of university anthropology programs are recognizing the necessity of CRM education, most remain academically-oriented. And by academically-oriented, I do not mean that they are geared towards education (though they are, and that is certainly appropriate), but rather that the majority of university programs are geared towards archaeology as a research discipline rather than an applied discipline, and many professors like to cast aspersions upon CRM (interestingly, the professors that I have met who are most likely to do this are the ones who are least likely to have had any CRM experience, and they are typically very much mistaken in their beliefs regarding CRM.
This is a problem because the vast majority of archaeologists in North America are CRM rather than academic archaeologists. Surveys of the field performed in 2009 indicate that at least 85% (and maybe more) of all archaeologists in the United States work in CRM, either for private companies or for government regulatory agencies. So, CRM is where the jobs are, and it's growing (that 85% includes an increase in numbers from a previous 2001 survey). By contrast, when last I checked (which was admittedly a few years ago, though there's little reason to think that matters have improved), there were 10 PhDs granted every year per academic job opening in archaeology. So, the odds are severely stacked against someone who wants to go into academics, and the number of unemployed PhDs that I know is truly staggering.
So, if you decide on a career in archaeology, expect to do CRM work, and don't plan on going into academics. What this means in practical terms is that the aspiring archaeology needs to learn more than just archaeological theory and practice. Someone wanting to become an archaeologist should study laws and regulations (Tom King's is a good place to start, but should not be where you stop), the standard phased approach to regulatory compliance (I recommend Neumann and Sanford's excellent books), and business skills including basic human resource management, budgeting, and project tracking.
Also, if you wish to become an archaeologist, avoid getting the "high and mighty" attitude that I have seen many people take with them out of the university. Talking down to construction workers and Native American representatives is a great way to not get hired for another project.
You'll Use That Shovel More Than That Trowel
Every time I bring a new person into the field, they are surprised at the methods that we employ. Owing to the way that archaeology is typically portrayed int he media (including portrayals by archaeologists), there is a perception that we always dig slowly using a trowel and a brush and nothing else.
You can imagine how surprised a newbie is when they see me pull out a shovel and a dig bar. And you should see the looks on their faces when backhoes show up.
The reality is that the tools that we use are diverse, and vary depending on a number of conditions. If we are digging a site with a lot of features that are identifiable only by subtle soil changes, then we may very well dig with a trowel and a brush. If you are excavating human remains, you'll use tools even more gentle than the trowel. By contrast, if you are excavating a shell midden that lacks any clearly identifiable strata and is located on a sand dune, you are going to use a shovel. And if you are digging a light density flaked stone scatter in dense clay, you are going to pound it with a dig bar. And there are even situations that call for excavation by heavy equipment.
Although there will be a few people who assume that this is the "destructive excavation" of CRM work, each of these tools is also found in the tool rooms of university anthropology departments. We use the tool that is necessary, which sometimes means slow, careful peeling back of soils...and sometimes means pounding the shit out of dense clay so that you can actually find the buried archaeological materials.
How Do You Feel About Hiking?
Another thing that you should probably know about actual archaeology is that we don't dig as much as people think. And I don't mean that our field season is limited, or anything like that. I means that the majority of the projects on which we work are geared towards finding out where the sites are, rather than digging them up. Although this has long been true of CRM, it is also often true of academic archaeology.
The way that we determine the locations of sites is by performing surveys. We hike over a given area looking for evidence of archaeological sites. Survey methodology varies from place to place, due in large part to local geomorphic conditions. In California, we typically do surface pedestrian surveys - in most parts of California, if a site is present, there will be some evidence of it on the surface. Where we think that may not be the case, we will recommend buried site testing (where auger bores, backhoe excavation, or some other method is used to look under the surface). In other parts of the U.S., survey involves digging holes with a shovel at regular intervals looking for evidence of buried archaeological materials. While this method does involve digging, it should be noted that they are digging to look for sites, rather than digging within sites.
Get to Know Your Relevant Disciplines
In addition to the need to learn about business and regulations, you should also make sure that you either know your flora and fauna, or build up a library for looking things up. Most archaeological site records include information regarding local plants and animals, and it is also wise to get some training in how to use local historical archives (local historical society libraries, county assessor's records, library map and genealogy rooms, etc.). Again, academics will generally not train you to do this sort of work, but it is vital for a career in archaeology.
An Adventure in Paperwork
Another aspect of archaeology that tends to surprise people is that there is a lot of paperwork. Really, just a metric shit-ton of it.Get used to it.
On any given project, my paperwork consists of, at minimum, my field notes (kept in my personal notebook) and a daily work record (a form used specifically by my company, though many other companies have equivalent forms). I keep track of essentially the same things on both documents: where I am working, who is present, weather conditions, type of work, complications to doing work, anticipated and actual rate of work, and so on. I keep the notes because, after our forms have been put into cold storage, I will often be asked questions regarding something (especially if there is a complaint from a client or former employee, or if we find ourselves having to argue with a regulator or community group), and having my own notes is useful in order to save time. These notes also provide me a place to track information that is relevant to my job, but not appropriate to turn over to the client (for example: internal disputes between employees, musings on the nature of archaeological materials that are not directly relevant to the project, etc.).
Now, that's the bare minimum that I do. If I am performing survey, then I also fill out a survey form, which details the project area, where we surveyed, transect spacing, ground visibility, etc. If I am excavating a site, then each excavation unit will have a form or series of forms detailing depth of excavation, tools used, soils encountered, materials identified, etc. etc. If I am doing site condition assessments, then I will have forms related to that. If we are collecting artifact,s soils samples, or anything else, then there are forms for that as well. And when you get to the lab, you have forms detailing your lab work and the chain-of-custody of items.
And that is just talking about forms that vary from company to company. Every employer for which I have worked has required a photo log for all pictures taken, and if you are recording archaeological sites, you will have to fill out the appropriate forms (which vary from state to state).
Then of course, there's the basic administrative paperwork that you have to handle. If you're a field technician, get used to filling out time cards and expense reports. If you are a supervisor, you do the same, PLUS you review your crew's time cards and expense reports. If you are a project manager, you have all of this, plus you may have regular progress reports and budgeting paperwork.
If I am on a project for more than a week, it is not uncommon for me to return from the field with a binder (or multiple binders) filled with forms and records.
Is it Worth It?
This is, of course, subjective. I have seen people burn out quickly, and decide to go back to school to become lawyers, or take a job in the administration of a local tech company, etc. etc. etc. So, for them, it wasn't worth it.
For me, it has been worth it. For all of the frustrations that I have experienced, and I have had some severe frustrations, I have been fairly happy with my career choice. I have been able to go to some amazing places and see some wonderful things, and meet some interesting people. And if I sometimes spend too much time in a shithole, well, that's the trade off for the good times. While I don't get paid as well as my friends who work in the tech industry, I don't have the stability of the friends and family who have gone into law, and my life isn't as adventurous as a friend of mine who travels Africa doing rather important agricultural work, it still suits me rather well, and I enjoy my job more often than not.
But this line of work is not for everyone. I does have a low financial payoff, a lot of stresses, frequent instability (depending on the construction industry's activities), and a lot of areas of conflict. But every career has its downsides, and the upsides are sufficient to keep me satisfied.
*There is, of course, and exception to this. There are volunteer archaeology programs that will teach people how to perform basic fieldwork, and there are programs that allow people to pay archaeologists to accompany them on projects. These are of variable quality, and they can be an entry-point into archaeology, but none of them will carry you very far in and of themselves.
Showing posts with label Workplace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Workplace. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Friday, March 23, 2012
Meanwhile, in an Indiana Jones Movie...
A few minutes ago, I was called over to the office of one of the other archaeologists who works for my company. A woman was sitting in his extra chair while he stood over his desk staring down at three items spread out on it: a large ovoid chunk of sandstone with a crude face carved into it and a groove carved along the backside (as if it were intended to be bound by rope with the face hidden from view), a pestle carved from an unknown stone* with a strange ridge pattern on the handle, and a soapstone carving of a crouching man with his hands clenched at his chest. My boss took photos (which I don't currently have access to, but I will try to get them), and we both asked her questions. We couldn't say much about the artifacts, but they did appear to be consistent in design and materials with Aztec sculpture.
Seems that the objects were given to her by an elderly Mexican woman who had once lived on a large estate in Mexico. However, our visitor's grasp of Spanish coupled with the donor's grasp of English were insufficient to allow a more detailed description of the item's provenance to be gained.
So, we have sent the photos on to a few people we know who are experts in Aztec and Meso-American archaeology, and we will see what comes of this.
Still, this seems like the sort of thing that belongs in an adventure movie. A woman (who, naturally, was a redhead dressed all in black) comes by our office asking out opinion about three mysterious artifacts that came to her by way of a convoluted route, and she can't find information on what they are or what, if anything, they mean. I spend alot of time trying to disabuse people of the notion that my job in any way resembles and Indiana Jones story...and then this happens.
Now we're just waiting for some guy in a trench coat who speaks with a vaguely European accent to come by the office, threateningly asking if we know the whereabouts of these artifacts.
And, of course it has been pointed out to me that this occurred in 2012, no doubt meaning that these items are in some way connected to the impending Mayan apocalypse, despite the fact that they are more likely Aztec.
*As archaeologists are not geologists, this is, it must be said, not an unusual description. So, when you hear someone talk about a "mysterious artifact of unknown material", remember that the "unknown material" part is usually an admission of the archaeologist's ignorance, and not a convincing statement about the allegedly mysterious nature of the item.
Seems that the objects were given to her by an elderly Mexican woman who had once lived on a large estate in Mexico. However, our visitor's grasp of Spanish coupled with the donor's grasp of English were insufficient to allow a more detailed description of the item's provenance to be gained.
So, we have sent the photos on to a few people we know who are experts in Aztec and Meso-American archaeology, and we will see what comes of this.
Still, this seems like the sort of thing that belongs in an adventure movie. A woman (who, naturally, was a redhead dressed all in black) comes by our office asking out opinion about three mysterious artifacts that came to her by way of a convoluted route, and she can't find information on what they are or what, if anything, they mean. I spend alot of time trying to disabuse people of the notion that my job in any way resembles and Indiana Jones story...and then this happens.
Now we're just waiting for some guy in a trench coat who speaks with a vaguely European accent to come by the office, threateningly asking if we know the whereabouts of these artifacts.
And, of course it has been pointed out to me that this occurred in 2012, no doubt meaning that these items are in some way connected to the impending Mayan apocalypse, despite the fact that they are more likely Aztec.
*As archaeologists are not geologists, this is, it must be said, not an unusual description. So, when you hear someone talk about a "mysterious artifact of unknown material", remember that the "unknown material" part is usually an admission of the archaeologist's ignorance, and not a convincing statement about the allegedly mysterious nature of the item.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
I Can HAZWOPER?
On Saturday morning, I woke up early, drove to the appropriately named town of Shafter (about 15 miles north of Bakersfield), and register for the CalOSHA-approved class for Hazardous Waste and Material Operations (AKA HAZWOPER), where I would, allegedly, learn how to safely handle hazardous waste, and respond appropriately when the handling of said waste goes awry. The class lasts for two weeks: this past weekend, and this coming weekend, with 20-hours of class per weekend.
I hope that next week is an improvement, because this last weekend was, with the exception of a couple of hours in which we learned to take basic medical vitals information, a complete waste of time. The information presented this week might have been useful were I a welder, plumber, or electrical worker, but as I do none of these things, and my job prevents me from being in a situation where any such things are at all in my power, it wasn't a particularly good use of time. Still, next week we will start dealing with the actual hazardous material portion, as well as signs of trouble that will be visible to someone other than the immediate welder/plumber/equipment operator/etc., which should be useful to me.
At any rate, I left my apartment at 6:00 Saturday morning to drive to the thriving metropolis of Shafter to attend the first of four 10-hour days of the HAZWOPER training. Entering the classroom, I saw that our instructor was a guy named Keith. Now, I have had to do several safety trainings and certifications at this facility before, and had several instructors, but Keith is my favorite. Here's the best way to describe this instructor: imagine that Larry the Cable Guy became a professional wrestler and then became an Army drill sergeant before becoming a Hell's Angel/coffee house hipster who teaches drivers ed to have an excuse to watch Red Asphalt. You are left with the impression that Keith could easily break you in half while giving a hilarious and ironic commentary on the subject. The material is often boring, but Keith is entertaining and he knows the subject well enough to provide all necessary information. Also, due to his experience, the class had more horror stories than a semester of Driver's Ed.
While the instructor was of good quality, I can not say as much for many of the students. A few of them, such as someone who was training to become and oil field safety inspector, a guy who looked like Jim Croce (and asked a few questions hinting that he had seen more than a few horrible injuries), and a fellow who had just gotten a job after a period of unemployment, these were the people who were taking the class seriously and really paying attention. The rest, however, seemed to treat the class as a joke, which is unfortunate as, unlike me, every one of them had jobs to which the course material directly pertained. Some of the people in the class were in training ot become EMTs, and given the quality of their behavior, I sincerely hope that I never have a medical emergency in Kern County.
One group of people were sent by a hazardous material handling/safety equipment inspection and preparation company known as Hazard Safety Services Incorporated (HSSI), and if the people in this classroom are any indication of the standard HSSI employee, I think I'll just walk away from any job site where I am having to rely on them for safety. I wouldn't trust these guys to tie their own shoes, much less safely handle dangerous equipment and materials. Amongst this group was a guy who I took to referring to as "Princess Diana" owing to his giant cubic-zirconium disks in his ears and his ugly and huge white plastic sunglasses, which reminded me of a cheap imitation of the rather excessive finery that used to show up whenever the media talked about the British royal family.. He looked like a reject from a movie about underachievers living in a frat house, and spent most of the two days that we were there disrupting class to make allegedly clever (but in reality irritating) comments to and about the instructor (who I am surprised didn't just crush the kid under his boot heel). Sad thing is, the kid probably thought that he looked and sounded cool, leading me to wonder in which head trauma ward his employer found him.
Really, with the exceptions mentioned above, looking at the other people in the classroom, I now know what happened to all of the kids I knew who flunked out of remedial basket-weaving. If these are the people responsible for safe handling of hazardous materials, then we're thoroughly doomed as a species.
On the upside, there was some amusement to be had during the class. We watched a truly awful safety video, the host of which looked like Glenn Beck and Dan Ackroyd had a baby. I learned two new terms: "Unexpected energization" - when a piece of equipment that is supposed ot be shut down turns on; and "metal fume fever" which is a malady to which welders are prone, but sounds like it should be a Ted Nugent song. I also learned that, contrary to what I had thought, the reason why smoking is no longer allowed in hospitals is not because it seems like a bad idea to have health care providers doing something astoundingly unhealthy around patients, but because oxygen-rich environments within the hospital kept catching on fire and exploding. Think of that next time someone tells you that medicine doesn't advance, at least you are now unlikely to explode in a hospital*.
As I said, the class lasted two days, meaning that I drove two hours each morning to get to class, and two hours each evening to get home. This coming weekend, I'll just book a hotel room.
Well, this coming weekend will cover material that is actually of use to me, so it should be a better deal. Here's hoping that Princess Diana can keep his trap shut and that the EMT students make me less hesitant about Kern County medical care.
*Which, admittedly, makes medicine less exciting, if better for you.
I hope that next week is an improvement, because this last weekend was, with the exception of a couple of hours in which we learned to take basic medical vitals information, a complete waste of time. The information presented this week might have been useful were I a welder, plumber, or electrical worker, but as I do none of these things, and my job prevents me from being in a situation where any such things are at all in my power, it wasn't a particularly good use of time. Still, next week we will start dealing with the actual hazardous material portion, as well as signs of trouble that will be visible to someone other than the immediate welder/plumber/equipment operator/etc., which should be useful to me.
At any rate, I left my apartment at 6:00 Saturday morning to drive to the thriving metropolis of Shafter to attend the first of four 10-hour days of the HAZWOPER training. Entering the classroom, I saw that our instructor was a guy named Keith. Now, I have had to do several safety trainings and certifications at this facility before, and had several instructors, but Keith is my favorite. Here's the best way to describe this instructor: imagine that Larry the Cable Guy became a professional wrestler and then became an Army drill sergeant before becoming a Hell's Angel/coffee house hipster who teaches drivers ed to have an excuse to watch Red Asphalt. You are left with the impression that Keith could easily break you in half while giving a hilarious and ironic commentary on the subject. The material is often boring, but Keith is entertaining and he knows the subject well enough to provide all necessary information. Also, due to his experience, the class had more horror stories than a semester of Driver's Ed.
While the instructor was of good quality, I can not say as much for many of the students. A few of them, such as someone who was training to become and oil field safety inspector, a guy who looked like Jim Croce (and asked a few questions hinting that he had seen more than a few horrible injuries), and a fellow who had just gotten a job after a period of unemployment, these were the people who were taking the class seriously and really paying attention. The rest, however, seemed to treat the class as a joke, which is unfortunate as, unlike me, every one of them had jobs to which the course material directly pertained. Some of the people in the class were in training ot become EMTs, and given the quality of their behavior, I sincerely hope that I never have a medical emergency in Kern County.
One group of people were sent by a hazardous material handling/safety equipment inspection and preparation company known as Hazard Safety Services Incorporated (HSSI), and if the people in this classroom are any indication of the standard HSSI employee, I think I'll just walk away from any job site where I am having to rely on them for safety. I wouldn't trust these guys to tie their own shoes, much less safely handle dangerous equipment and materials. Amongst this group was a guy who I took to referring to as "Princess Diana" owing to his giant cubic-zirconium disks in his ears and his ugly and huge white plastic sunglasses, which reminded me of a cheap imitation of the rather excessive finery that used to show up whenever the media talked about the British royal family.. He looked like a reject from a movie about underachievers living in a frat house, and spent most of the two days that we were there disrupting class to make allegedly clever (but in reality irritating) comments to and about the instructor (who I am surprised didn't just crush the kid under his boot heel). Sad thing is, the kid probably thought that he looked and sounded cool, leading me to wonder in which head trauma ward his employer found him.
Really, with the exceptions mentioned above, looking at the other people in the classroom, I now know what happened to all of the kids I knew who flunked out of remedial basket-weaving. If these are the people responsible for safe handling of hazardous materials, then we're thoroughly doomed as a species.
On the upside, there was some amusement to be had during the class. We watched a truly awful safety video, the host of which looked like Glenn Beck and Dan Ackroyd had a baby. I learned two new terms: "Unexpected energization" - when a piece of equipment that is supposed ot be shut down turns on; and "metal fume fever" which is a malady to which welders are prone, but sounds like it should be a Ted Nugent song. I also learned that, contrary to what I had thought, the reason why smoking is no longer allowed in hospitals is not because it seems like a bad idea to have health care providers doing something astoundingly unhealthy around patients, but because oxygen-rich environments within the hospital kept catching on fire and exploding. Think of that next time someone tells you that medicine doesn't advance, at least you are now unlikely to explode in a hospital*.
As I said, the class lasted two days, meaning that I drove two hours each morning to get to class, and two hours each evening to get home. This coming weekend, I'll just book a hotel room.
Well, this coming weekend will cover material that is actually of use to me, so it should be a better deal. Here's hoping that Princess Diana can keep his trap shut and that the EMT students make me less hesitant about Kern County medical care.
*Which, admittedly, makes medicine less exciting, if better for you.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Why I Stay in Archaeology
I have had mixed feelings about my line of work. I have written previously about the annoying schism between resource management archaeologists such as myself and academic archaeologists. I have written about frustrations with a few (thankfully, very few) clients and projects, as well as frustrations with some agencies.
And yet I stay in this profession. I would even go so far as to say that, despite my occasional angst, I enjoy this profession. Why?
Well, a part of it is that it feels good to protect something for the sake of other people. It is a rare thing that I recommend protection of a site and then am able to do research-related work on it myself. Rarer still are the sites that I recommend protection for that I am able to visit for non-research or management purposes later. When I do recommend protection, I usually recommend the least impactful thing possible, which means that I recommend against archaeological investigation if at all possible, so I don't make any additional money off of the site, either. What this means is that the site is preserved for interested parties (Native Americans in the case of prehistoric and some historic sites, descendants or members of the interested public for other historic-era sites) and for research archaeologists, who will be armed with the tools and methodology to do a better job than the constraints of my job sometimes allow. The point is, I don't usually benefit from this, but I feel good knowing that someone else will.
Another significant reason that I stay is, for lack of a better way of putting it, I have been developing a sense of adventure. Now, archaeology is not an Indiana Jones-esque enterprise in which we risk life and limb on a regular basis (in fact, if our safety protocols have been well developed and executed, we should be in considerably less risk of harm than the average construction worker). However, we go places that most people don't, and we see things that most people can't on a regular basis. On any given work day, I am as likely to be in the field as in the office, and while much field work is enjoyable but unexciting, there are many days when I will be walking along a ridgeline looking down into the agricultural valleys of southern California, or I'll be hugging a cliff side in the Sierra Nevadas, or I'll be opening up a 1,000-year-old grave in the Napa Valley. Also, I am the only person I know who is not in the military who, in the course of a single week, has used as transportation all of the following: a helicopter, a 4-wheel drive truck, a boat (mutha'fucka'), and my ol' trusty hiking boots. I have been caught in freak snowstorms (twice), walked through Kern County's oil fields in 110+ degree temperatures (while carrying 30 pounds of equipment strapped to me), hiked for three hours carrying all of my camping and excavation equipment on my back, and stayed in 4-star casino hotels for meetings in which I would be accused of all manner of evil-doing by county planners. I have learned to speak diplomatically to armed ranchers who are worried about trespassers, to chase off packs of dogs using nothing but my voice, and how to deal calmly with the nut-jobs that one sometimes finds in isolated places. My job is often frustrating, sometimes unpleasant, but it is rarely boring. Considering that just a few years ago I considered spending a few days away from home an annoying disruption of my routine, I would say that the fact that I have come to appreciate, and even crave, these sorts of events indicates definite personal growth.
Related to the last point, another reason that I stay in archaeology is that I have the best work-related stories. Seriously. Most of my friends have work stories about what a tool their boss is or what wacky things their co-worker did with the photocopier, or more seriously, what they are doing to work their way through their employer's advancement process. These stories are entertaining, often hysterically so, or interesting, but they are of a different flavor altogether from my experiences. My stories involve hiking down a mountain hoping to escape a snowstorm, or being trailed by large animals in the wilderness, or a county coroner forcing me to use my Ford Escort as a transport for human remains*, or having to walk around with gas detection badges to let me know if death or injury via hydrogen sulfide is imminent. They are not inherently any more interesting than the stories that my friends have, but they are more unusual and therefore telling them once always results in my friends insisting that I tell them again when I am introduced to someone new.
The joy of discovery should also not be ignored. Most of my projects are relatively cut-and-dry. I go out to a place where some sort of construction project is proposed, I look for archaeological sites. If I find them, they are usually of standard types that I see routinely, and I record them. Sometimes I have to engage in small scale excavations to determine if a site is eligible for federal or state historic registers (they usually aren't). I then write a report and send it to the client, and my work is done. But sometimes things are a bit different. I have found weird and unexplained earthworks in the hills of eastern California; I have recorded sites covered in so much spectacular rock art that I spent weeks on end staring in amazement; I have excavated sites that were in the wrong location for the type of sites that they were, and contained the wrong kinds of materials for their region, meaning that something interesting was happening there that defies all of our models of prehistoric human behavior; and I have input data into a spreadsheet, run some statistical tests, and discovered that a set of data requires revision of my assumptions about the way that humans interact with their world. These are great moments, and they are not only intellectually rewarding, but I find myself in a state of physical euphoria when they occur.
There is, of course, a sense of mystery inherent in some of this work (though, it should be said, that this is a rather small portion of the work). Most of the time it is just a job, but every now and again, I get this feeling, like a chill running down the back of my neck. I'll be excavating a pit, and will pick up a spear point, and realize that I am the first human in two thousand years to see or touch it. On other occasions, I'll look at a landscape, and will see it not as it is now, but as it was centuries ago, and realize that even in a large crowd, I am the only person present who is seeing what I see. At times like this, I feel as if I am seeing something that is hidden, that has been locked away from humanity, but of which I now have the privilege of getting just a fleeting glimpse. It is maddening, but also thrilling, and while it doesn't happen very often, I always want more.
And finally I have to admit that a part (though an increasingly small part) of the reason that I stay in is the fact that I have invested so much time and energy into this career path - between time spent on the job and time, energy, and money spent getting the training and the Bachelor's and Master's degrees - that I am loathe to leave it. Several years back, when I had not yet grown accustomed to the crazy lifestyle that archaeology imposes on you, I was unhappy but stayed with the job because I didn't want all of that energy to have been spent for nought. Now, however, I find myself increasingly enjoying the job, and I am glad that I stayed with it.
*Seriously, this happened.
And yet I stay in this profession. I would even go so far as to say that, despite my occasional angst, I enjoy this profession. Why?
Well, a part of it is that it feels good to protect something for the sake of other people. It is a rare thing that I recommend protection of a site and then am able to do research-related work on it myself. Rarer still are the sites that I recommend protection for that I am able to visit for non-research or management purposes later. When I do recommend protection, I usually recommend the least impactful thing possible, which means that I recommend against archaeological investigation if at all possible, so I don't make any additional money off of the site, either. What this means is that the site is preserved for interested parties (Native Americans in the case of prehistoric and some historic sites, descendants or members of the interested public for other historic-era sites) and for research archaeologists, who will be armed with the tools and methodology to do a better job than the constraints of my job sometimes allow. The point is, I don't usually benefit from this, but I feel good knowing that someone else will.
Another significant reason that I stay is, for lack of a better way of putting it, I have been developing a sense of adventure. Now, archaeology is not an Indiana Jones-esque enterprise in which we risk life and limb on a regular basis (in fact, if our safety protocols have been well developed and executed, we should be in considerably less risk of harm than the average construction worker). However, we go places that most people don't, and we see things that most people can't on a regular basis. On any given work day, I am as likely to be in the field as in the office, and while much field work is enjoyable but unexciting, there are many days when I will be walking along a ridgeline looking down into the agricultural valleys of southern California, or I'll be hugging a cliff side in the Sierra Nevadas, or I'll be opening up a 1,000-year-old grave in the Napa Valley. Also, I am the only person I know who is not in the military who, in the course of a single week, has used as transportation all of the following: a helicopter, a 4-wheel drive truck, a boat (mutha'fucka'), and my ol' trusty hiking boots. I have been caught in freak snowstorms (twice), walked through Kern County's oil fields in 110+ degree temperatures (while carrying 30 pounds of equipment strapped to me), hiked for three hours carrying all of my camping and excavation equipment on my back, and stayed in 4-star casino hotels for meetings in which I would be accused of all manner of evil-doing by county planners. I have learned to speak diplomatically to armed ranchers who are worried about trespassers, to chase off packs of dogs using nothing but my voice, and how to deal calmly with the nut-jobs that one sometimes finds in isolated places. My job is often frustrating, sometimes unpleasant, but it is rarely boring. Considering that just a few years ago I considered spending a few days away from home an annoying disruption of my routine, I would say that the fact that I have come to appreciate, and even crave, these sorts of events indicates definite personal growth.
Related to the last point, another reason that I stay in archaeology is that I have the best work-related stories. Seriously. Most of my friends have work stories about what a tool their boss is or what wacky things their co-worker did with the photocopier, or more seriously, what they are doing to work their way through their employer's advancement process. These stories are entertaining, often hysterically so, or interesting, but they are of a different flavor altogether from my experiences. My stories involve hiking down a mountain hoping to escape a snowstorm, or being trailed by large animals in the wilderness, or a county coroner forcing me to use my Ford Escort as a transport for human remains*, or having to walk around with gas detection badges to let me know if death or injury via hydrogen sulfide is imminent. They are not inherently any more interesting than the stories that my friends have, but they are more unusual and therefore telling them once always results in my friends insisting that I tell them again when I am introduced to someone new.
The joy of discovery should also not be ignored. Most of my projects are relatively cut-and-dry. I go out to a place where some sort of construction project is proposed, I look for archaeological sites. If I find them, they are usually of standard types that I see routinely, and I record them. Sometimes I have to engage in small scale excavations to determine if a site is eligible for federal or state historic registers (they usually aren't). I then write a report and send it to the client, and my work is done. But sometimes things are a bit different. I have found weird and unexplained earthworks in the hills of eastern California; I have recorded sites covered in so much spectacular rock art that I spent weeks on end staring in amazement; I have excavated sites that were in the wrong location for the type of sites that they were, and contained the wrong kinds of materials for their region, meaning that something interesting was happening there that defies all of our models of prehistoric human behavior; and I have input data into a spreadsheet, run some statistical tests, and discovered that a set of data requires revision of my assumptions about the way that humans interact with their world. These are great moments, and they are not only intellectually rewarding, but I find myself in a state of physical euphoria when they occur.
There is, of course, a sense of mystery inherent in some of this work (though, it should be said, that this is a rather small portion of the work). Most of the time it is just a job, but every now and again, I get this feeling, like a chill running down the back of my neck. I'll be excavating a pit, and will pick up a spear point, and realize that I am the first human in two thousand years to see or touch it. On other occasions, I'll look at a landscape, and will see it not as it is now, but as it was centuries ago, and realize that even in a large crowd, I am the only person present who is seeing what I see. At times like this, I feel as if I am seeing something that is hidden, that has been locked away from humanity, but of which I now have the privilege of getting just a fleeting glimpse. It is maddening, but also thrilling, and while it doesn't happen very often, I always want more.
And finally I have to admit that a part (though an increasingly small part) of the reason that I stay in is the fact that I have invested so much time and energy into this career path - between time spent on the job and time, energy, and money spent getting the training and the Bachelor's and Master's degrees - that I am loathe to leave it. Several years back, when I had not yet grown accustomed to the crazy lifestyle that archaeology imposes on you, I was unhappy but stayed with the job because I didn't want all of that energy to have been spent for nought. Now, however, I find myself increasingly enjoying the job, and I am glad that I stayed with it.
*Seriously, this happened.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Movin'
So, we have closed down my office. As noted previously, I still have a job and will be working from home when I am not in the field. However, today I pack up my computer for set-up back home. Tomorrow night, I fly down to southern California for a project.
Anyway, the point is that I'm all-over the place, and I have no idea what my posting schedule will be like. However, I hope to get back to a 3-times a week update schedule soon.
Anyway, the point is that I'm all-over the place, and I have no idea what my posting schedule will be like. However, I hope to get back to a 3-times a week update schedule soon.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Crunch Time
As I often complained about in previous posts, I spent most of last year (and, in fact, the hottest months of the year) in the area around Taft, CA performing survey in oil fields. A few months ago, the client finally approved the necessary budget to produce the report, but I was placed on other projects, which reduced my ability to actually work on the report.
As of this week, my employer has freed up the resources necessary to get this report done. The catch is that a report that should have taken 3-4 months to produce because of the huge number of site records produced is now going to be done in six weeks (during a week of which I will be out of the country).
So, I am writing this post for two reasons. One is to explain why the next several weeks postings may be a bit spotty. But another reason is that part of the rationale for me keeping this blog is to describe what working in archaeology is really like, and these sorts of chaotic deadlines are a part of the job.
Environmental consulting in general, and contract archaeology in particular, runs on a feast-or-famine schedule. Two months ago, I was having to scrape and scrounge for work to do, and now I am working close to 16-hour days. The especially long days this week are due to prep work necessary to get the report information distributed to the appropriate people in order to have the report produced. Over the next few weeks, I will likely work long days, but not nearly as bad as this week (hopefully).
This report has over 600 site records, and each of these will need to be created using standardized forms from the California Department of Parks and Recreation (the DPR 523 forms). The information from our GPS units is currently being compiled, and will be useful both for creating the site records, and for providing the agency in charge with a GIS (geographic information system) layer to help them track the sites in the future.
In other words, we're doing what needs be done to get this report out the door in six weeks. Then we can go back to wondering what we're going to do with ourselves until the next crunch comes.
As of this week, my employer has freed up the resources necessary to get this report done. The catch is that a report that should have taken 3-4 months to produce because of the huge number of site records produced is now going to be done in six weeks (during a week of which I will be out of the country).
So, I am writing this post for two reasons. One is to explain why the next several weeks postings may be a bit spotty. But another reason is that part of the rationale for me keeping this blog is to describe what working in archaeology is really like, and these sorts of chaotic deadlines are a part of the job.
Environmental consulting in general, and contract archaeology in particular, runs on a feast-or-famine schedule. Two months ago, I was having to scrape and scrounge for work to do, and now I am working close to 16-hour days. The especially long days this week are due to prep work necessary to get the report information distributed to the appropriate people in order to have the report produced. Over the next few weeks, I will likely work long days, but not nearly as bad as this week (hopefully).
This report has over 600 site records, and each of these will need to be created using standardized forms from the California Department of Parks and Recreation (the DPR 523 forms). The information from our GPS units is currently being compiled, and will be useful both for creating the site records, and for providing the agency in charge with a GIS (geographic information system) layer to help them track the sites in the future.
In other words, we're doing what needs be done to get this report out the door in six weeks. Then we can go back to wondering what we're going to do with ourselves until the next crunch comes.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
My Time as an Alt-Med Salesman
I moved to Santa Barbara in the spring of 2002 in order to attend graduate school at UC Santa Barbara. I had a severance package from my previous job, and anticipated having to take some loans, but I needed more money to fund grad school. Had I been a PhD student, I could have counted on Teaching Assistantships and Research Assistanceships to cover my bills, but as a Masters student, I had no such luck (I did eventually become a TA, thankfully, but that is another rather bizarre story). So, I needed to find a job.
I did the usual, canvassed places putting in resumes, signed up with temp agencies, and put my resume up on every job search website I could find. Eventually, I was asked to interview for a store manager position at a company called L'Occitane. L'Occitane, for those who don't know, is a company that markets rather expensive soaps, incense, and pretty much everything else to make your home smell like a perfume factory exploded.
They also sold various aromatherapy supplies, making me a small cog in the machine that is the alt-med industry.
I got the job, though I was made the assistant manager rather than manager due to my grad school requirements, and went through a rather surreal three months (at which time I left due to what could euphemistically be referred to as "ethical differences" - I didn't think people should be screwed over, my bosses disagreed). I immediately began reading up on the products that the company sold. Most of what I read was the companies marketing materials (after all, soap is soap and incense is incense, and if people want to spend too much on it, that's their business). However, on those products that made health claims, such as the aromatherapy products, some of the skin screams, and a few other odds and ends, I looked for information from actual doctors and researchers to see if the claims made for some of the products were actually plausible.
In the case of the moisturizing hand creams, the claims made by the company were clearly exaggerated, but at least based on reality. For the aromatherapy products...
Well, let's talk a bit about aromatherapy. It is a practice that involves using aromatic compounds from plants (primarily what are referred to as essential oils, but not limited strictly to them) in order to provide some medical effect. Usually the fumes from the oil are inhaled (hence "aromatherapy"), but they may also be applied to the skin or to an injury.
Some of these things work - chemicals within some plants will break down mucus when inhaled as fumes thus alleviating congestion, and other plant compounds contain toxins that kill bacteria and might stave off infection if applied directly to a wound, for example - but, as with so many of these types of things, most of them don't. And even with those things that do work, the claims of their efficaciousness is often terribly exaggerated. So, one is stuck in a weird position of attempting to figure out what does and what doesn't work.
L'Occitane and our regional manager did something that was both clever and weasel-like. They "suggested" that the store staff refer to medical claims - always in vague or nonsensical ways ("this oil helps to detox the liver"...yes, people who actually understand human anatomy may start screaming now), but the official marketing material touted these benefits in ways that made it sound like they were making medical claims but actually only made direct claims about subjective conditions where it could not be said whether or not the use of aromatherapy actually helped. They also relied heavily on claims about the antiquity of aromatherapy, claiming that this proved that it was effective.
Okay, a quick deal on that last point. It's basically just a variation on the Caveman Fallacy, a claim that "our ancestors did it, therefore it must be best!" In this particular case, the materials we had at the store all claimed that aromatherapy must be 100% effective in all cases because it's been used ever since the Medieval Period!
Yeah, that's right, according to L'Occitane's marketing material, we were supposed to take all aromatherapy claims seriously because they were taken seriously by people who thought that slitting open veins was a great way to cure a headache*. Ugh...
The other claims made generally referred to the improvement of mood, or concentration, or something else along those lines. They were phrased in a way as to suggest (though never outright claim) that these products would be effective in people with emotional symptoms and needing medications because of underlying medical problems. Okay, here's the deal, assuming that you are not suffering from a particularly nasty neurological disorder, the reality is that mood and concentration and the like are based largely on your state of mind. If you are actively doing something to try to improve your state of mind, then odds are you will be successful because acting with the intention is probably sufficient. So, it wasn't the essential oils or anything else that did it, it is the fact that you acted to benefit yourself emotionally. So, if you want to be aromatic plant stuff for that purpose, knock yourself out. But you don't have to spend money if you don't want to. You could do any number of things to get the same results.
We at the store were encouraged by our regional manager to say things such as "this essential oil helps to detox your body" (actually, your body removes toxins on its own through your normal respiratory and metabolic processes - if you actually need a toxin removed, you are probably lying unconscious or in pain in an ICU somewhere and not buying herbs or essential oils in a shop), or "this oil is popular in Europe" (well, so was Fascism**), or, my favorite, "this product has been proven in clinical trials" (no joke, the "clinical trials" involved a small group of women who were given free samples and asked leading questions by a company employee, these were clinical trials in precisely the same way that I am the Emperor of Spain).
So, what's an honest man to do?
Well, I did something that would have annoyed the regional manager had she ever been there to see it. People would come in, having been sent by their psychic***, and would say something like "I was told to buy lavender oil, because lavender helps you relax****"
I would respond with a simple question: "Do you like the smell of lavender?"
If they said "yes", then I would reply that lavender might help them relax and sell them what they were asking for. If they said "no" then I would say "if you don't like the smell of lavender, do you think it'll actually be relaxing to have it around? What scents do you like?" and we would begin finding something that they might actually enjoy having around (and which might, therefore, help them to relax).
And I never, NEVER claimed that the oils did anything medical or magical. When anyone would ask me about it, I would be honest and say that when I looked at the actually data, I was generally unimpressed, and that those plant compounds that are effective tend to get used by pharmaceutical companies making medications to do what the plant oils are claimed to do (yep, big pharma is perfectly happy to use natural compounds to get the desired medical - or, unfortunately, increasingly marketing - results).
The oils could be nice, they had a pleasant aroma, after all. But whenever anyone would ask me to recommend an oil for a medical condition, I always told them to talk with their doctor, as their doctor would be far more qualified to deal with medical issues than an underpaid soap shop employee.
*Amusingly, I also often meet people who are members of neo-pagan religions who claim that aromatherapy must work because of it's connection to Medieval Europe. This seems odd, as the people who they are citing as wise authorities are the same people who thought that burning non-Christians in their homes was a damn fine way to spend a Saturday night.
**Thank you, Mark Crislop
***no joke, most of the people who came in for aromatherapy products told me that they had been referred to us by a psychic, while most of the people who came in for skin scream told me that they had been sent by their plastic surgeon. Ahhh, southern California...
****Depending on which aromatherapist you ask (and I asked quite a few during this odd period in my life), you may be told that lavender helps you relax, or that it helps you to be more alert and ready to act. Two, mutually exclusive reactions, really, so which one is it?
I did the usual, canvassed places putting in resumes, signed up with temp agencies, and put my resume up on every job search website I could find. Eventually, I was asked to interview for a store manager position at a company called L'Occitane. L'Occitane, for those who don't know, is a company that markets rather expensive soaps, incense, and pretty much everything else to make your home smell like a perfume factory exploded.
They also sold various aromatherapy supplies, making me a small cog in the machine that is the alt-med industry.
I got the job, though I was made the assistant manager rather than manager due to my grad school requirements, and went through a rather surreal three months (at which time I left due to what could euphemistically be referred to as "ethical differences" - I didn't think people should be screwed over, my bosses disagreed). I immediately began reading up on the products that the company sold. Most of what I read was the companies marketing materials (after all, soap is soap and incense is incense, and if people want to spend too much on it, that's their business). However, on those products that made health claims, such as the aromatherapy products, some of the skin screams, and a few other odds and ends, I looked for information from actual doctors and researchers to see if the claims made for some of the products were actually plausible.
In the case of the moisturizing hand creams, the claims made by the company were clearly exaggerated, but at least based on reality. For the aromatherapy products...
Well, let's talk a bit about aromatherapy. It is a practice that involves using aromatic compounds from plants (primarily what are referred to as essential oils, but not limited strictly to them) in order to provide some medical effect. Usually the fumes from the oil are inhaled (hence "aromatherapy"), but they may also be applied to the skin or to an injury.
Some of these things work - chemicals within some plants will break down mucus when inhaled as fumes thus alleviating congestion, and other plant compounds contain toxins that kill bacteria and might stave off infection if applied directly to a wound, for example - but, as with so many of these types of things, most of them don't. And even with those things that do work, the claims of their efficaciousness is often terribly exaggerated. So, one is stuck in a weird position of attempting to figure out what does and what doesn't work.
L'Occitane and our regional manager did something that was both clever and weasel-like. They "suggested" that the store staff refer to medical claims - always in vague or nonsensical ways ("this oil helps to detox the liver"...yes, people who actually understand human anatomy may start screaming now), but the official marketing material touted these benefits in ways that made it sound like they were making medical claims but actually only made direct claims about subjective conditions where it could not be said whether or not the use of aromatherapy actually helped. They also relied heavily on claims about the antiquity of aromatherapy, claiming that this proved that it was effective.
Okay, a quick deal on that last point. It's basically just a variation on the Caveman Fallacy, a claim that "our ancestors did it, therefore it must be best!" In this particular case, the materials we had at the store all claimed that aromatherapy must be 100% effective in all cases because it's been used ever since the Medieval Period!
Yeah, that's right, according to L'Occitane's marketing material, we were supposed to take all aromatherapy claims seriously because they were taken seriously by people who thought that slitting open veins was a great way to cure a headache*. Ugh...
The other claims made generally referred to the improvement of mood, or concentration, or something else along those lines. They were phrased in a way as to suggest (though never outright claim) that these products would be effective in people with emotional symptoms and needing medications because of underlying medical problems. Okay, here's the deal, assuming that you are not suffering from a particularly nasty neurological disorder, the reality is that mood and concentration and the like are based largely on your state of mind. If you are actively doing something to try to improve your state of mind, then odds are you will be successful because acting with the intention is probably sufficient. So, it wasn't the essential oils or anything else that did it, it is the fact that you acted to benefit yourself emotionally. So, if you want to be aromatic plant stuff for that purpose, knock yourself out. But you don't have to spend money if you don't want to. You could do any number of things to get the same results.
We at the store were encouraged by our regional manager to say things such as "this essential oil helps to detox your body" (actually, your body removes toxins on its own through your normal respiratory and metabolic processes - if you actually need a toxin removed, you are probably lying unconscious or in pain in an ICU somewhere and not buying herbs or essential oils in a shop), or "this oil is popular in Europe" (well, so was Fascism**), or, my favorite, "this product has been proven in clinical trials" (no joke, the "clinical trials" involved a small group of women who were given free samples and asked leading questions by a company employee, these were clinical trials in precisely the same way that I am the Emperor of Spain).
So, what's an honest man to do?
Well, I did something that would have annoyed the regional manager had she ever been there to see it. People would come in, having been sent by their psychic***, and would say something like "I was told to buy lavender oil, because lavender helps you relax****"
I would respond with a simple question: "Do you like the smell of lavender?"
If they said "yes", then I would reply that lavender might help them relax and sell them what they were asking for. If they said "no" then I would say "if you don't like the smell of lavender, do you think it'll actually be relaxing to have it around? What scents do you like?" and we would begin finding something that they might actually enjoy having around (and which might, therefore, help them to relax).
And I never, NEVER claimed that the oils did anything medical or magical. When anyone would ask me about it, I would be honest and say that when I looked at the actually data, I was generally unimpressed, and that those plant compounds that are effective tend to get used by pharmaceutical companies making medications to do what the plant oils are claimed to do (yep, big pharma is perfectly happy to use natural compounds to get the desired medical - or, unfortunately, increasingly marketing - results).
The oils could be nice, they had a pleasant aroma, after all. But whenever anyone would ask me to recommend an oil for a medical condition, I always told them to talk with their doctor, as their doctor would be far more qualified to deal with medical issues than an underpaid soap shop employee.
*Amusingly, I also often meet people who are members of neo-pagan religions who claim that aromatherapy must work because of it's connection to Medieval Europe. This seems odd, as the people who they are citing as wise authorities are the same people who thought that burning non-Christians in their homes was a damn fine way to spend a Saturday night.
**Thank you, Mark Crislop
***no joke, most of the people who came in for aromatherapy products told me that they had been referred to us by a psychic, while most of the people who came in for skin scream told me that they had been sent by their plastic surgeon. Ahhh, southern California...
****Depending on which aromatherapist you ask (and I asked quite a few during this odd period in my life), you may be told that lavender helps you relax, or that it helps you to be more alert and ready to act. Two, mutually exclusive reactions, really, so which one is it?
Friday, November 20, 2009
Sexism and Field Archaeology
The author of the Digging the Dirt blog (if you don't read his blog, then you really should) has an interesting post about sexism in archaeology. Within the post there is a discussion of the role that sexism plays in whether or not women pursue a career in archaeology.
And this leads me to a couple of questions. The first is whether or not sexism plays a more significant role in archaeology than in society in general, and the second is whether or not my own professional behavior is at-fault.
To the first question, the BWA (British Women in Archaeology)* states that 1 in 3 women in archaeology have experienced sexist comments while at work, and 60% know someone who has. To be honest, I am surprised that the number is that low**, but it would be fair to say that any level is unacceptable. Likewise, an article in the September 2008 edition of the Society for American Archaeology's newsletter the Archaeological Record found that women were significantly more likely to have experience with the career plateau-effect known as the "glass ceiling"***, illustrating that sexism in the workplace isn't just a British phenomenon.
As with all fields of employment, the role of women is increasing (and their well-being improving) within archaeology, according to two Society for American Archaeology Bulletin articles on the subject, though problems such as pay disparities continue.
This matter is made a bit more complicated by the fact that our academic training would generally lead us to regard women as our equals (both due to the content of coursework and the fact that half or more of our fellow students are women). However, there is a very definite macho culture amongst many field archaeologists (especially the older field technicians) that tends to alienate many women entering the field. The two seem to balance each other out, but both are very much present.
If you follow the hyperlinks here, you'll see that this pretty much squares with what is seen in other lines of work.
While, no doubt, many people will seek to explain this away with claims about fundamental differences between men and women leading to different competencies, an analysis of actual differences between men and women in terms of cognitive, personality, and leadership traits indicates that such claims are essentially myths propped up by our culture's mars/venus confirmation bias rather than fair observations of reality.
This is, however, not an easy issue. Cultural assumptions about the role of women in family life may play a role, and these assumptions are difficult to deal with (though, like everything else involved here, they have been changing). It has also long been assumed that women might not rise to positions of higher authority because of career choices, but there is evidence to suggest that this isn't true.
Regardless, what is seen in archaeology indicates that it has the same issues as the rest of society, which is not good for women, but is an improvement over what it had been. Whether or not progress with continue or things will stagnate is open to question, but there is reason to be at least cautiously optimistic. It is well to be aware of the problems, and to do things to try to correct them where and when we can.
Okay, so on to the second issue - as a project manager, is my own behavior part of the problem?
This is difficult to assess. Of course, I want to say "no." I hire many women to work as field technicians, and the hires who I choose (as opposed to those who my boss or colleagues urge me to choose) are around 50% women. Of the people who I trust both as field techs and as other project managers or co-managers, the majority of them are women - but to be fair this is likely due in large part to the fact that most of the project managers in my company are women, rather than being due to my own preference. When I think of field techs who I am willing to bring onto projects or suggest for promotion, there are slightly more women than men on the list but all such promotions are justified based on their experience and proven qualifications, I hadn't even realized the gender ratios until I stopped to write this blog entry.
So, on the surface, I am doing rather well in this regard. In fact, I would say that, overall I probably am doing very well. However, regardless of how we may evaluate ourselves, the problem lies in how our assumptions that we may not even be aware of influence our behavior. For example, there's one person I can think of who is astoundingly sexist, to the point that I have heard him blame the current economic problems on women going to work rather than "staying home and being moms and housewives," and he has stated that the sign of a strong and independent woman is that she looks for a husband who is financially capable of taking care of her, and yet he believes that all of his notions are based on good solid facts rather than on really questionable assumptions and bizarre, convoluted reasoning.
So, am I different?
I'd like to think so, and certainly if I am harboring sexist tendencies they are nowhere to the level of that guy's. But the problem is that he doesn't think that he's sexist or misogynistic (despite the fact that he obviously is), which leaves me wondering whether or not the difference between him and I is one of degree rather than type.
In the end, all that I can do is keep in mind that I may have biases that I am not even aware of, and to try to spot them when they creep up. In doing so, perhaps I will be able to do my part to improve the situation within my field.
* While I think that the existence of a group such as this is a good thing and I am happy to know if its existence, I was struck by this apparently self-contradictory statement on the website: [The BWA] does not exclude men but does provide a women's-only forum. There may be a good argument for having a women-only forum, but how do you "not exlude" someone by exluding them?
** It should be noted that this is based on a survey with 85 respondents, and without a description of the survey methods, definitions of what constitutes a sexist comment, etc. All of which means that these results should be taken with a grain of salt. The reality could be worse or better than these results indicate, we just don't know.
*** Neal, L. "Glass Ceiling Syndrome for Women in Archaeology", in the SAA Archaeological Record (8) 4: 31-24.
And this leads me to a couple of questions. The first is whether or not sexism plays a more significant role in archaeology than in society in general, and the second is whether or not my own professional behavior is at-fault.
To the first question, the BWA (British Women in Archaeology)* states that 1 in 3 women in archaeology have experienced sexist comments while at work, and 60% know someone who has. To be honest, I am surprised that the number is that low**, but it would be fair to say that any level is unacceptable. Likewise, an article in the September 2008 edition of the Society for American Archaeology's newsletter the Archaeological Record found that women were significantly more likely to have experience with the career plateau-effect known as the "glass ceiling"***, illustrating that sexism in the workplace isn't just a British phenomenon.
As with all fields of employment, the role of women is increasing (and their well-being improving) within archaeology, according to two Society for American Archaeology Bulletin articles on the subject, though problems such as pay disparities continue.
This matter is made a bit more complicated by the fact that our academic training would generally lead us to regard women as our equals (both due to the content of coursework and the fact that half or more of our fellow students are women). However, there is a very definite macho culture amongst many field archaeologists (especially the older field technicians) that tends to alienate many women entering the field. The two seem to balance each other out, but both are very much present.
If you follow the hyperlinks here, you'll see that this pretty much squares with what is seen in other lines of work.
While, no doubt, many people will seek to explain this away with claims about fundamental differences between men and women leading to different competencies, an analysis of actual differences between men and women in terms of cognitive, personality, and leadership traits indicates that such claims are essentially myths propped up by our culture's mars/venus confirmation bias rather than fair observations of reality.
This is, however, not an easy issue. Cultural assumptions about the role of women in family life may play a role, and these assumptions are difficult to deal with (though, like everything else involved here, they have been changing). It has also long been assumed that women might not rise to positions of higher authority because of career choices, but there is evidence to suggest that this isn't true.
Regardless, what is seen in archaeology indicates that it has the same issues as the rest of society, which is not good for women, but is an improvement over what it had been. Whether or not progress with continue or things will stagnate is open to question, but there is reason to be at least cautiously optimistic. It is well to be aware of the problems, and to do things to try to correct them where and when we can.
Okay, so on to the second issue - as a project manager, is my own behavior part of the problem?
This is difficult to assess. Of course, I want to say "no." I hire many women to work as field technicians, and the hires who I choose (as opposed to those who my boss or colleagues urge me to choose) are around 50% women. Of the people who I trust both as field techs and as other project managers or co-managers, the majority of them are women - but to be fair this is likely due in large part to the fact that most of the project managers in my company are women, rather than being due to my own preference. When I think of field techs who I am willing to bring onto projects or suggest for promotion, there are slightly more women than men on the list but all such promotions are justified based on their experience and proven qualifications, I hadn't even realized the gender ratios until I stopped to write this blog entry.
So, on the surface, I am doing rather well in this regard. In fact, I would say that, overall I probably am doing very well. However, regardless of how we may evaluate ourselves, the problem lies in how our assumptions that we may not even be aware of influence our behavior. For example, there's one person I can think of who is astoundingly sexist, to the point that I have heard him blame the current economic problems on women going to work rather than "staying home and being moms and housewives," and he has stated that the sign of a strong and independent woman is that she looks for a husband who is financially capable of taking care of her, and yet he believes that all of his notions are based on good solid facts rather than on really questionable assumptions and bizarre, convoluted reasoning.
So, am I different?
I'd like to think so, and certainly if I am harboring sexist tendencies they are nowhere to the level of that guy's. But the problem is that he doesn't think that he's sexist or misogynistic (despite the fact that he obviously is), which leaves me wondering whether or not the difference between him and I is one of degree rather than type.
In the end, all that I can do is keep in mind that I may have biases that I am not even aware of, and to try to spot them when they creep up. In doing so, perhaps I will be able to do my part to improve the situation within my field.
* While I think that the existence of a group such as this is a good thing and I am happy to know if its existence, I was struck by this apparently self-contradictory statement on the website: [The BWA] does not exclude men but does provide a women's-only forum. There may be a good argument for having a women-only forum, but how do you "not exlude" someone by exluding them?
** It should be noted that this is based on a survey with 85 respondents, and without a description of the survey methods, definitions of what constitutes a sexist comment, etc. All of which means that these results should be taken with a grain of salt. The reality could be worse or better than these results indicate, we just don't know.
*** Neal, L. "Glass Ceiling Syndrome for Women in Archaeology", in the SAA Archaeological Record (8) 4: 31-24.
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