I’ve watched enough episodes of Scooby Doo to understand the dangers associated with digging up Indian burial grounds. So, picture my horror last week when I walked out of my Matthews dorm to find a full excavation site in place under the guise of discovering old Native American artifacts. I brushed off my initial shock and grudgingly took an indirect route to Weld laundry room. At least, I thought, the work must be important if University officials were willing to let a bunch of students tear up the picturesque yard.

But further investigation into Anthropology 1130, the front behind which this pain in the ass operates, revealed it to be nothing more than a study in inconsequentiality. The course description of Anthropology 1130, “Archaeology of Harvard Yard” portrays the class as a hands-on experience that provides “a richer and more nuanced view of the…lives of students and faculty in Harvard Yard.” The only nuances I saw on the digging site were the varying shades of dirt they had uncovered.

What could these people possibly be looking for? Well, apparently my front door step was once home to the influential Harvard Indian College, an institution founded in 1655. The school once boasted five students, whose many treasures the modern-day Anthro kids are now digging up. Alas, only one of these five scholars, named Caleb Cheeshahteaumuck, graduated from the short-lived school. He died a few months later from tuberculosis.

In short, it’s pretty clear these kids are looking for historically inconsequential trinkets. Perhaps I could understand if Anthro 1130 was providing students with a rigorous training in archeological methodology. But one look at the CUE guide reveals the course to be what is usually termed a “blow-off” elective class. Fewer than a quarter of the students were taking the course as part of their concentration requirements and the rest might have been attracted by its far-below-average workload and difficulty ratings.

Why care?

Well, this blow-off class for upperclassmen affects everyone on the yard. Nearly a quarter of the grass is unavailable for lounging at one rare time in the year when the weather permits it. The scene is also creating a logjam of tourists asking questions like: “Are all the landscapers at Harvard so well dressed and ethnically diverse?” and “Is this, like, some sort of way to get you guys at least some kind of physical activity?”

This isn’t the first year the Yard has been churned up in the name of learning, but maybe, hopefully, this year the Administration will recognize the trivial nature of this pedagogical endeavor. Since the students in this class will be obliged to finish out the term in Anthropology 1130, we all can at least pray they find some shiny beads or seashells. After that, I say we let those Indian spirits rest in peace.



Daniel Gonzalez ’11, a Crimson editorial comper, lives in Matthews Hall.