Faculty at school always told me that as soon as you mention that you are a dentist, you will receive a bunch of unsolicited questions from random people about their teeth. I heard of people being asked to check out someone’s mouth at dinner parties, at the movies, in the parking lot of Sam’s Club. The thing is, I never found myself in these situations, like, ever. So I set out one day to think about why that was, and I realized it was because I never really put it out there that I actually know anything about anything when I’m around people. For such a long time, I had this complex of being below par compared to my 23-year old science-robot peers at school that I really didn’t think I knew a thing about oral health beyond brushing and flossing. I still don't think I do.
The truth is, I sometimes really hate being a student…at least from a social standpoint. I once used to have a job, I had people who worked for me, and I used to be THE boss. I might have looked younger than my age (actually that was more of Andy’s problem) but people could gauge my experience level just by the rank I wore on my uniform. Aside from the time of being a brand new 2LT in the Army, I never felt like I had anything to prove. However, I just hate telling people I’m a student…I know it’s not fully true but it feels substandard. Especially since I’m years older than my fellow classmates, it’s especially hard to accept that there are faculty younger than me.
What I despise the most is when I meet parents of other kids at the girls' school, soccer, gymnastics, or wherever. I know it’s half paranoia, but sometimes I wonder if people think I’m not “established” or “stable” because I’m a full time student without a job. I wonder if they think I was a teen mom or something and had my kids real young and just kept on chugging along with school, or if they question what the heck I was doing in between undergrad and dental school and wasting all that time in between. I wonder if stay-at-home moms judge me for leaving the Army to spend more time with my kids only to "ditch" them again in the selfish pursuit of a degree, and I have a serious fear that my own guilt permeates in the thoughts of others. Either way, it’s very unconventional to see a kid with a parent who uses a student ID and I can’t help but feel lame when I have to explain myself. Just the other day I was unpacking lunchboxes into Megan’s cubby when another parent in scrubs asked me, “I have to ask, are you a physician? Because I’m a surgeon and I was curious where you work” and I had to reply with, “Oh, no...still a student. Dental school. Yeah…I wear scrubs because I drip wax all over my clothes. Yeah…” And then the conversation died off and then Doctor Superstar Dad got into his doctor car and drove to his doctor job. Or when the girls’ school lost power and I had to pick them up, all these other parents were all busy-busy on their phones letting their clients, bosses, and secretaries know that they’ll be out for a minute while they find alternate child care. The receptionist said to me, “Oh, I’m sorry Mrs. Chung, it must’ve been hard for you to skip out today.” To which I replied, “Nope, not really. They record lectures online now, you know. But maybe I can get a note from you so I can give it to my teacher to explain why I was absent today??" There goes my perfect attendance star for the year.
So I challenged myself one day to just see what it’s like. What it’s like to feel smart, to feel established, to feel credible. Not necessarily to lie, but just, you know, not mention the whole school thing, and see how differently, if at all, people treat me. Maybe I’ll realize it’s really all in my head afterall.
I was in Safeway at the fish and deli section and had just asked for two pieces of the “on sale” tilapia. The lady behind the dome-shaped glass counter asked me which hospital I worked in, to which I instinctively replied, “Oh, I don’t work in a hospital”…then I remembered my plan and said instead, “I’m in dentistry in Baltimore.” And she looked at me with an eyebrow raised and said, “oh, like a dentist?”
As soon as I nodded, it happened. The whole thing was so fast I still don’t know where it came from. But suddenly, as soon as she was finished wrapping the fish in parchment paper, she dropped the tilapia on the counter, used the same gloved hand to pull her cheek away from her lips, and used her other (yes, also gloved) hand to pull out a partial denture of her upper teeth exposing a very gummy smile. Awesome.
She left my fish just hanging out on the countertop while she proceeded to point out some crack I couldn’t see and asked me my opinion about it. She told me about how it first happened, how she lost a bunch of her teeth growing up and then how she had missed chewing with her back teeth, and how much her life changed with the addition of this denture. But now it was hurting the roof of her mouth and she thinks this crack has something to do with it, and would I be so kind to look at it? I wasn’t really listening to half the things she was telling me because I just couldn’t believe that she seriously removed her nasty denture in front of all these customers, and moreover, while I know I was nodding my head, my eyes kept on gravitating to the fish that just helplessly lay on the countertop. I told her I couldn’t really see what she was pointing to because of the lighting, which I regretted saying as soon as it came out of my mouth because of course she invited me to the back.
Luckily I had the sense to decline the offer and I think I said something about taking it to her dentist, because the guy who made it probably knows best. She thanked me, and with her still-gloved hand, put the denture back in her mouth, and with that same hand, reached down for my tilapia. I intercepted fast enough to not let her gloved hand touch my fish by asking her when the next batch of squash was coming out, and she had to go use the phone in the back to call and ask the Produce Section. By the time she came back, I got another guy working there to hand me my long-awaited tilapia, and I thanked the lady for the 411 on the squash and quickly left that section.
I still haven’t gone back - it's been 2 weeks.
So I realize now that I really don’t care to have that happen to me again, and maybe it’s not so bad afterall to just say I’m a student and suck up whatever stigma that is associated with it. So I decided from that point on, I'd just tell people the truth: Yes, I'm an old lady with kids and a student loan. Maybe one day I'll be happy to brag about my D.D.S., but for now I think I'll hunker down and take my pride elsewhere. Almost losing your fresh fish to dentures contamination can really humble a gal, ya know.
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