If you asked me about my proudest accomplishment before getting accepted into dental school, I may have told you it was hitting the game winning three point shot in a YMCA basketball game at eight years old.
Before you give me that pathetic “Honey, it’s time to move on” smile, I would like to preface by saying I have since removed High School Varsity Team Captain from my resumé. Reflecting on my thirteen year basketball career, however, I can’t help but remember the morning when I hurled an orange ball larger than my head towards the basket and watched in awe as the ball dived through the net, the buzzer singing zero.
After a Steph Curry-inspired memory like that, I wince remembering I spent the majority of my basketball career as a bench player.
I wasn’t always a benchwarmer, mind you. I started playing basketball at five years old, admittedly because I wanted the Goldfish, Fruit Roll Ups, and Capri Suns my sister received after Saturday morning games. Luckily, basketball ended up being a perfect fit. I was the energetic point guard who constantly engaged her teammates, but also wasn’t afraid to drive to the basket and get fouled. I remember often hearing gasps from parents in the crowd as I was flung into the wooden floor after diving for a loose ball or after making tough contact with an opponent. I was fearless, confident, and as evidenced by my points per game and great chemistry with my team, I felt I was truly contributing to the (YMCA) game of basketball.
I joined more intense leagues with age. Gone were the days of participation trophies and equal playing time. My skills advanced appropriately, and in the right environment, I still played as fiercely as that unbridled eight year old. But something happened when I moved middle schools and had to try out for a brand new team, not knowing them on or off the court. I made the team, but as I would soon learn, that was the least of my troubles. Upon encountering players more skilled than I was, I grew nervous and doubtful of my own abilities. I often lost confidence in my instincts midplay, which translated to bad passes, mindless turnovers, and easy fast breaks for the other team. I even stopped driving into the paint to get fouled because shooting free throws became an extreme stressor.
Everything was more or less normal during practice. In fact, I worked harder and harder in a desperate attempt to get my confidence back. I loved playing a carefree game without the pressure of a crowd or a vulnerable winning streak. Having learned my game during tryouts and practice, my coaches and teammates knew that I had plenty of skills and potential. Forgiveness and patience abounded from coaches, teammates, and parents, but nothing and no one could shake the game day uncertainty that was slowly turning my favorite sport into something I dreaded.
My playing time quickly began to dwindle. Surprisingly enough, I made it to the varsity team senior year of high school. Despite playing great basketball in practice, I averaged about two minutes a game. This was first disheartening, then confusing, and finally, frustrating. With college applications and AP courses demanding more of my time, I decided to reevaluate my commitment to the game.
During one particular locker room talk after a rough loss, our coach singled out each player, concentrating on why each girl was a crucial part of the team. Coach harped on my defense, heart, and intuitive knowledge of the game. Talking to just the bench players at one point, she growled, ”If you all don’t give your best every day and push the starters, we do not have a shot at a championship. Period.” Admittedly, pushing during practice to the point of exhausted tears only to sit on the bench for the entire game and then hearing “work harder” did not sit well with me at first. What irked me most was the gravitas of my coach’s words as I continued to play them in my head. Whether I felt it or not, I apparently played a major role on our team.
As we approached the tougher games of the playoffs, a slow but steady transformation occurred. More than wanting to play most of the game or be on the court during tipoff, I wanted our players be challenged and prepared. Furthermore, I wanted our team to win. I noticed an elevation of spirits during practice when I started playing hard not in the hopes of the coaches noticing me, but for the love of the game and for the betterment of my team.
While I never quite made it to starter status, I was awarded several accolades at the end of the season. I couldn’t tell you where those certificates are now, but I can tell you that it took me thirteen years to learn how electrifying it is to contribute to something larger than yourself, and to find your unique niche in a large field.
My first year of dental school has presented its own obstacles. My toughest realization to date is that unlike basketball, I am not a natural at seemingly any direct aspect of dentistry. Despite working with my hands in various hobbies leading up to this point, nothing prepared me for the first day of dental school, when we entered pre-clinical lab, received a lecture on waxing, and were sent on our way. I remember sitting with a blazing bunsen burner and an unsightly replica of tooth #12 that was almost more of a hot mess than I was. Despite putting in more time, learning new techniques, and seeking assistance from professors, I reached a plateau in my assignment grades. While my waxing has improved drastically, I have had to adjust to often spending more hours working than my peers in order to produce high caliber work.
I quickly realized that operative dentistry would not be one of my natural talents either. As is natural with most beginners, my first preps were much too wide, then too deep, then too rough. I quickly reprioritized so that I could spend more of my “free” time in the simulation lab, learning control and bettering my technique.. I have since trained my hands and my head to produce quality dentistry. It has been a struggle to remind myself of healthy comparisons to classmates only, and to not count the seemingly infinite hours I spend in lab.
Of course, we need our brains just as much (if not more than) our hands. Two exams a week is its own feat, but the tougher adjustment has been studying hard, making what most would consider stellar grades, and just being in the middle of the pack. I never expected dental school to be easy, but I did expect to see direct results of the work I put in. Receiving average scores despite endless effort put into work sometimes reminds me of the days when no amount of steals or assists made would improve my chances of being a starter.
I still struggle with this. Professors and classmates have complimented me on on my work ethic and determination, as well as the steady but consistent progression of my hand skills. Yet there are days when I just see a B instead of an A. There are days when I get tired of feeling like a benchwarmer. Dentistry is not a game, however, and there are serious consequences to not giving my all in class or clinic. So how do I handle the days when life is, for lack of a better word, foul? Here are my 3 power plays:
1. Take a time out: I have yet to meet an upperclassman, professor, or dentist who thinks dentistry 24/7 is a good idea. When my head is muddied with negativity and I’m no longer productive, I step away from my desk. My favorite escapes include going for a long walk, journaling, or Facetiming with my adorable baby niece. Conquering a busy slide or a tricky prep seems much less intimidating afterwards.
2. Find a group huddle: Basketball is not a solo sport, and neither is dentistry. For the most part, everyone is fighting or has fought the same battles, and there’s a cornucopia of resources. Peers also make great reminders. While discussing my alleged lack of a dental school niche with an old friend the other day, he looked at me curiously and said, “Raven, you’re one of the most personable and empathetic human beings I’ve ever met; that has to count for something”. Initially, I dismissed this as a consolation trophy. Reflecting on his words, however, I began to realize how crucial my “skill” is. Some of my favorite memories of shadowing and assisting have revolved around the effortless yet meaningful conversations I’ve had with patients, be it to calm their nerves or to share a story. Quality dental treatment without patient rapport is not quality dental treatment. It sounds silly, but some patient out there needs my interpersonal skills. It has been an immeasurable blessing to cohort with faculty and classmates who truly exhibit a genuine love for the profession and for learning. I have been fervently reminded that I am a part of something larger than myself, and that by choosing this career path, I have vowed to work towards the advancement of a population and not just myself. Talk about a game changing revelation.
3. Remember why we first picked up the ball (handpiece): On the first day of dental school, a professor told us, “Remember, your worth is not defined by your grades”. No one says it enough, but we can all use the reminder that the ultimate goal of dental school is not to make 100’s on every assignment or be in the top 10%. We are in dental school to learn to provide the best treatment possible for patients who need us. While shooting for the best scores and work we can do, it is imperative to remember that we’re in this to improve the lives of others, and we can only achieve that if we’re focused on learning and applying dental knowledge.
To borrow a quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson, “That which we persist in doing becomes easier not that the nature of the task has changed, but our ability to do it has increased.” I expect my skills in dentistry to increase (they already have), and I know that my persistence will be worth it.
One day, I’ll be head coach of an amazing dental team, and with their help, we will advance the oral and general health of so many patients. I just gotta keep my head in the game.
– Raven Grant, University of Texas School of Dentistry at Houston, Class of 2019
