Meat & Potatoes

When I graduated with my PhD in Anthropology, my perspective on the career I was developing was much different than it is now.  A friend of mine (another professor) and I had lunch yesterday, and I mentioned this blog to him as part of our conversation.  He pointed out that it will be interesting to look back at these posts five to ten years later to see how my perspective has changed.  I agree, because when I look back five to ten years right now, things were much different.  As Dick Vitale says, “I thought I had arrived” when I finished my PhD.  I was ready to make a big splash because I felt I had learned so much, frankly I was overconfident and arrogant at the time.

There are debates, arguments, issues, themes, big ideas that I wanted to publish on.  I had critical points to make, and I knew I was right.  I tried to write a few of those kinds of papers, and I found that being horribly critical of others’ work felt awful.  Here’s why.  I had published a few papers by then, but I had not really built a reputation or a body of research.  I began to realize that I had no business trying to shape the field of zooarchaeology, which is the archaeology of animal remains, with so-called “programmatic statements.”  I began to look around at my colleagues and to see the way they acted.  The people writing programmatic statements and shaping the field had vastly more experience than I did, and I began to realize they had earned their experience and their perspective.  Further, they were usually very polite and professional in their criticism of others.  “Young guns” from time to time would attempt to assert their positions, but these people were usually “flashes in the pan.”  Though their points might be warranted, they could not present their arguments from the roots of a lifetime of experience in collegiality and professionalism.

So, I made a commitment to myself that I would not try to publish programmatic papers for five years.  During that time I would attempt to publish what I call “bread and butter” or “meat and potatoes” papers.  These are case studies based on hands-on work.  That is, I would generate data on zooarchaeological topics and present and publish the results of that research.  It turned out to be a great idea because I accrued more experience, and I did not offend (too) many people.  It was fun, and I learned (some) modesty from the process.  Doing ‘actual research’ on faunal remains from archaeological sites takes effort, much more so than emphatically arguing a point.

Today, here and there, I weigh in on a debate.  It is difficult to argue and to maintain polite narrative at times.  The difference now is that I know that respect for my colleagues is more important than publishing any particular paper.  If the paper cannot be written in a manner that is engaging, challenging, but also polite, then perhaps it should not be written.  By no means am I an old sage, but I am thankful to have gained that perspective through experience.

One of my professors in graduate school (Professor Mike from ‘Write Like Mike’) chewed me out one day for being nasty during my criticism of another student’s paper.  He said, “You don’t get to criticize others until you put your own work out into the world for others to review.”  His toned conveyed that he was disgusted with my behavior and that he was quite serious about putting me in my place.  Thanks Mike, I see what you mean more clearly than ever.