Grading 102 Intro Archaeology Exams

Written December 23, 2013

December 2012 I was in Boston, unraveling because I had to order a pizza called the Nutty Tuscan.

I was amidst grading 102 undergraduate essay exams with my co-TAs, Nerb and Gilbert. By essay 18 I was bored. By essay 30 I was despondent. By essay 64 I was unstable, and that is when Nerb made me order the Nutty Tuscan.
 
My favorite part of grad school—besides the fact that most people are functioning alcoholics—is teaching. I don’t teach actually, but work as a TA. At Harvard that means the professors give flashy, but unstructured lectures and the TAs lead recitation sections to clarify professor rambling. The job mostly entails answering, “will this be on the exam?” and trying to dress more grown-up than 20-year-olds.
 
TAs also do the grunt work of courses—maintaining the course website, designing labs, grading assignments, confirming the legitimacy of doctor’s notes, reminding students that their grandmothers can only die so many times in a given semester, etc.
 
All this is fun for me. I hope to do it the rest of my life, but as the professor and at a small liberal arts school in the woods along the Vermont/New Hampshire border.
 
As much as I love teaching, grading exams can drive anyone loopy—especially for a large, blow off course, like Archaeology 101. When I TA-ed this class, the final exam comprised identifications, short answer questions, and an essay. The tests were hand-written in “blue books” during a 3-hour period. By the time students got to the essay portion, their handwriting was indecipherable and their brains were drained.
 
It made sense for one person to grade all the essays to ensure consistency. It made sense for me to grade all the essays to ensure efficiency. Gilbert’s first language is French, and Nerb is an excessive deliberator. He hems and haws over minute decisions like whether to sign an email “Best” or “Cheers.” Hence, grading takes him ages. 
 
I took the essays, Gilbert got the IDs, and Nerb was to do the short answers.
 
I arrived at our seminar room—grading base camp—promptly at 9 am on a December Saturday, which was chilly enough for visible breath, crunching steps, and an unavoidable runny nose. I was well rested. I was motivated. I had snacks and caffeinated drinks.
 
The prompt was: Discuss three ethical issues related to the practice of archaeology. Explain the causes, consequences, and “sides” of the issues.  Be sure to cite specific examples discussed in class.
 
Exam 1: The first issue in archaeology is NAGPRA. NAGPRA makes sure that Native Americans are entitled to their cultural heritage. NAGPRA is a multivalent issue…
 
Exam 17: …The issue of proper excavation methodology is exemplified by Indiana Jones in the 80s blockbuster Raiders of the Lost Ark.  The protagonist, “Indy,” played by a young Harrison Ford, must eschew proper methodology to ensure that a powerful artifact does not fall into Nazi hands. Although meticulous, systematic excavation is ideal, sometimes it must be sacrificed to prevent a greater evil…
 
It was almost noon when Nerb dawdled into the room.
 
Nerb is his nickname and apt. Nerb looks like a nerb. What is a nerb? You’d know if you saw Nerb. 
 
Nerb is gangly with a pronounced brow ridge—a body form reminiscent of Homo erectus (As a paleoanthropologist, I mean this as a compliment. H. erectus was a highly successful and admirable species!) He’s an intelligent, energetic guy, rabid to tell you about two topics 1) his marathon training and 2) his archaeological research.
 
Nerb used to research Nuzi Ware, ceramics made by the Hurrians, an obscure past people of the Bronze Age Near East. Then Nerb got tired of Nuzi Ware 😦 and switched to the origins of iron smelting in the Caucuses. He researches this process by examining slag, a vitreous waste product of metal production, recovered during archaeological excavations. Nerb is fascinated by slag of the Caucuses. 

An example of archaeological slag with iron.

Entering grading base camp, Nerb blew his nose with a honk. “Sorry it took me so long to get here. I had to do my 18-miler this morning so I ran out to Concord and Natalie was supposed to pick me up in a coffee shop, but we went to different ones so I was waiting and SO HUNGRY for 30 minutes!”
 
He unraveled his trademark stripped scarf, mustard and crimson, acquired when he did a Masters at Oxford. He went on, “luckily I had some GU in my pocket.  Do you like GU?”
 
“Not really, I don—”
 
“I like the peanut butter and chocolate, but the fruit ones are disgusting!”
 
When Nerb is excited, just let him talk until he settles down.
 
Exam 26: …The source of funding for archaeological excavations can raise ethical issues. Some excavations are funded by private donors or political groups, whose interests may influence the project. For example, Turkey (the country) with Noah’s Ark or Shell (the oil company) at Catelhoyuk…
 
Nerb opened Tupperware, removed a full-length carrot, and began chomping like Bugs Bunny.
 
Exam 32: …One example of ethically laudable archaeological research is that of our professor, Dr. Urey…
 
Nerb crinkled opened a cinnamon Poptart. How does a child-free adult come to possess Poptarts?
 
Around hour six, Gilbert burst into the room, launching into soliloquy before we could greet him.
 
Gilbert—“I’m going to be here all night. I can’t believe we have to grade these by tomorrow. This is so unfair. I’m supposed to have this nice date tonight with this Canadian-Dutch girl and there’s no way I’ll make it.”
 
Gilbert is a recklessly charming Frenchman whose life is a series of "nice dates," catastrophic breakups, and stone tool analysis.
 
He had just arrived by bus from New York. It was his third trip to New York in the past 10 days. He was trying to get a visa from the Russian embassy to go to Dagestan for research. We assumed he made up Dagestan and was really having some love affair in New York. But it turned out Dagestan is a real place—a volatile republic of Russia known for general lawlessness and Chechen terrorism or resistance (depending on who you ask). Its capital of Makhachkala has a small museum with a collection of stone tools of questionable relevance to Gilbert’s dissertation.
 
Exam 39: …No issue is more ethically dubious than the Rosetta Stone. Should the British Museum own this world treasure? Does it belong to the French? Or the Egyptians? Like many questions in archaeology, only time will tell…
 
Gilbert started giggling.
 
“What?”
 
“Nothing. Just this New York girl sent me a picture.”
 
“Nude?”
 
He turned his computer and yes, it was a boob shot. So, he was having a love affair in New York and trying to get a visa to Dagestan. Gilbert whipped a corkscrew from his peacoat pocket and opened a bottle of wine.
 
Exam 42: …One issue that archeologists have is where to dig. A priori, this isn’t an ethical issue per se, but it can be, if for instance, a site is in someone’s backyard…
 
Nerb was huddled over an exam like a gargoyle expressing consternation. I could see the thoughts churning in his balding cranium. Both Gilbert and Nerb are balding, by the way. Gilbert in an, “I’m aging like fine wine” way and Nerb in an, “I hope this makes me a more aerodynamic runner” way.
 
Nerb’s face shot up. “Errrr, now how much credit would you give for this? I’m just not sure. The student was supposed to explain taphonomy and he did correctly, but every time he wrote the word, he wrote tamponomy.  Do you think he meant to say TAMPONomy??”

An illustration of taphonomic processes (Jablonski et al 2012).

Part of tamponomic processes.

I poured myself a glass of wine.
 
A woman in a wrinkled man’s dress shirt and leggings appeared in the doorway.  She had an accent, something South American. She addressed Gilbert: “I need to speak with you. Now.”
 
Gilbert left the room.
 
Exam 50: …Like any discipline, archaeology has its fair share of ethical issues!…
 
Gilbert returned. I poured another glass of wine.
 
Exam 56: …the repatriation of the Elfin Marbles…
 
Gilbert—“I need you to post a picture of me grading on Facebook. This Canadian-Dutch girl who I was going to see tonight doesn’t believe I’m grading.”
 
Exam 59: …according to Willey and Phillips, “archaeology is anthropology or it is nothing”…
 
Gilbert—“Take another picture, but a good one this time.”

Perhaps the student writing about Elfin Marbles meant Elgin Marbles.

I was on exam 60 and had been grading for 10 hours. I was averaging 1 exam every 10 minutes, or 6 exams per hour. At this rate I would need 7 more hours and finish at 2 am. I fantasized about collapsing onto the carpet, but knew the fibers bore decades of grad student detritus and other questionable substances.
 
Nerb—“Oh man!  Everyone is getting the short answer about slag wrong!”
 
Nerb—“You’d think I told them enough about slag!  Every section I mentioned slag!”
 
I imagined a musical about slag. A dozen Nerbs twirled and leapt across the stage, shouting “Slag!” at various harmonizing pitches.
 
Exam 64: …The Temple of Doom is neither ethical nor unethical…
 
Nerb—“Hey!  Didn’t the professors say we could order pizza and charge it to the department?”
 
We looked up one place, let’s call it The Crusty Crust, but it was recently shuttered because they stole credit card info one too many times. Otto Pizza didn’t deliver. No one answered the phone at Oggi. 
 
Nerb—“How about Crazy Dough’s?”
 
This is a place that shares a building with a tattoo parlor, comic book shop, and Indian fusion sandwich shop specializing in “naan-ninis.”
 
He went on fervently, “they have this great pizza with pesto called the Nutty Tuscan.”
 
Me—“I am not ordering a pizza called the Nutty Tuscan.”
 
“No, trust me. It’s really good!”
 
“Fine you order it.”
 
“I forgot my phone because it was in my running coat and after I did my 18-miler this morning, which I felt pretty good about by the way. Not exactly where I want to be in my Boston training, but this time last year...”
 
Ordering the Nutty Tuscan would force me to break my lifelong prohibition against ordering foods with cutesy or punny names, like the Hail to the Ceaser Wrap or a naan-nini. I’m physically incapable of uttering such stupidity, just like I’m unable to “whoo” during fitness classes.
 
Gilbert was distracted, sending texts, and did not come to my aid. Nerb was talking about a stone he saw on his run around mile 12 that looked like some Georgian slag.
 
Me—“Fine. I’m starving. I don’t care. I’ll order the Nutty Tuscan.”
 
I dialed the number. The pizza guy answered. 
 
“Can I have a large Nutty Nerb—…Sorry, Nerbs Nuts—, a Tuscan Nut—”. I started to laugh and cry and unravel. I reevaluated my dream of professing at a small liberal arts school on the Vermont/New Hampshire border—if said dream required me to finish grading these exams and utter "Nutty Tuscan."

the real Nutty Tuscan