From the Journal of the Colorado Dental Association
By Casey Rhines, D.D.S., CDA Editor
“Can you ask Carrie what size shoe she wears?”
This was my first order of business as the new CDA editor-in-chief; I’m known to ask the uncomfortable questions and add a cheeky remark every once in a while. I am following in the footsteps of Dr. Carrie Mauterer, the CDA’s former editor. I read several of her columns to get a sense of who she is and what makes an editor one who everyone loves. It is not unbeknownst to me that I have big shoes to fill, and I hope to bring my own style to this role.
Like Dr. Mauterer, I came to this position with a deep passion for dentistry and a love for storytelling. I recently moved to Colorado from Michigan where I was on the editorial advisory board for the Michigan Dental Association. Before moving here, I taught part-time at the University of Michigan School of Dentistry while working in private practice. The Rockies are a dramatic change from the flat, tree-lined landscape that Ann Arbor offered. I moved here to teach full-time in the Department of Restorative Dentistry at the University of Colorado School of Dental Medicine and I’ve found that mountain analogies are far more suited for dentistry than Michigan timberlines.
The first time I noticed this was when I was driving back from Moab in March. I was teaching on occlusion and my students were having a hard time — as we all did — understanding working and non-working interferences. It was difficult to grasp the concept of naming inclines and understand that is where these interferences occurred. Driving east on I-70, I noticed how the mountains on either side of the freeway were each half covered in snow. The south facing slopes were dry and rocky, while the north facing ones were covered in evergreens and fresh powder. As native Coloradans know, the amount of snow and trees has nothing to do with the side of the road the mountain was on, but rather the direction that each incline faces. Similarly, naming an interference as working or nonworking doesn’t relate to the cusp itself, but the direction of the facing slope.
My journey to dentistry was straight-forward. I was in high school when I applied to an accelerated dental program; I had always been in accelerated classes so it just made sense that I would continue. I landed on dentistry for similar reasons to everyone else: commitment to the community, bettering society and flexible work/life balance with a stable income. In my sophomore year of college, I met a new student in my program. Her uncle, a dentist in a town about 20 minutes away, offered her a dental assistant position but she didn’t have a car to get there. Thankfully, I had a car and a desire to learn. I imagined I would just drive Kimberly after chemistry lab every other day and stick around, hoping to gain any pearls of wisdom.
After shadowing Dr. Bill and Kimberly for a few days, Dr. Bill offered me a job at $10/hour. He was shy and I think he thought it wouldn’t be enough money. Little did he know, I had never seen that much money in my life, and I probably would have done it for free. What started as casual observation turned into a six-year mentorship with Dr. Bill, and my passion for the profession was truly ignited there.
Dr. Bill is still an incredible mentor, friend and colleague. Educated 40 years before me, he and I were assumed to be completely different dentists. He spent several hours a day in his lab —building wax rims, setting teeth — and an equal number of hours standing while treating his patients, taking his own film radiographs, and having me “hand him a double” carpule of amalgam. As a recent graduate, much of this art was lost on me. Nevertheless, there are some things that even four decades can’t shake. Despite our generational differences, we shared a core value: building relationships. We knew our patients, their family vacations, how old their kids were, how long their drive to the appointment was, etc. Dr. Bill is a part-time faculty member at my alma mater, the University of Detroit Mercy School of Dentistry. Working for him throughout undergrad, I always had the idea of teaching in the back of my mind. There were always dental students at the office getting help with balanced occlusion, asking for letters of recommendation, or dropping off cases for him to inspect.
It was in my final year of dental school when I finally asked him, “Why do you like teaching?” I can still see him lowering his acrylic bur, looking at me, and saying, “Because students want to be there.” I hope you can all imagine your fourth-year-dental-student-selves and know my response: “No we don’t?”
We laughed. But in all seriousness, it was incredibly refreshing to be surrounded by like-minded people who felt compelled to work toward progressive change. It’s a similar feeling to why I’m involved in organized dentistry. Whether it is taking CE courses, lobbying our local officials, or keeping up to date with the CDA journal, we all have a role in inspiring progressive change in our profession. I’m mesmerized by the advancements we have made in the last 40 years and I’m curious where we will be in 2064. With the exponential growth of technology, the rise of millennial driven marketing, and the increasing importance of advocacy, this is a pivotal time for our profession.
I’m proud to be your new editor and I hope you’ll join me in becoming involved with your local or state dental association. And don’t worry, Carrie and I wear the same size shoe!
