When I fly into Seattle for some quality time spent with, arguably, the top dental educator on the planet, I am totally geeked out.
So maybe you’re a little like me when you get the chance to feel like a kid again-and I don’t mean a second or third childhood!
When I fly into Seattle for some quality time spent at the Kois Center and arguably the top dental educator on the planet, I’ll just confess; I get totally geeked out. And it wasn’t always this way.
See, I used to be practically normal before dental school. But for me, attending dental school was like learning a new language, figuring out how to ride a bicycle backwards, and explaining Donald Trump all at the same time. Humor and instant muscle memory woulda helped big time; but sadly, both were harder to find than the Clippers past the second round of the NBA playoffs.
For me, learning in dental school wasn’t so much fun. Instead of feeling like the kid I used to be, I slowly morphed into something like a dark-side, robotic version of either Waldorf or Statler. In fact, I used to fantasize about joining those guys on some kind of board of inquiry, sitting up in the balcony and turning the tables on my least fave instructors, giving them a piece of my dysfunctional mind… adult Muppet style.
And maybe my four years of dental school made up for four years I could have spent in military school, or even worse, with the Jesuits.
So I know I probably sound like some kind of born-again dunce but these days my learning experience is practically religious. Collaborating to reveal blind-spots that are barriers to growth and making a difference for others, for me, is like a trip back to seeing the ocean for the first time, or walking through a tunnel with your dad where the light at the end is your first sighting of a major league ballpark; it’s magical.
My 3-day, 10-hour per learning sessions spent with maybe 20 or so colleagues, 4 mentors, and Hall of Famer dentist/educator/mentor Doc John Kois focused on the complexities of the chewing machine comprised of our teeth, muscles of mastication, and Temperomandibular joint (TMJ). I’ve never worked with anyone more complete, organized, dedicated, and approachable than John (By the way, don’t call him Dr. Kois.) First time I visited the Kois Center, I almost asked for an autograph. Later on, John actually wrote something nice on the back cover of a book I published. My thank you included a fart machine, purchased at Spencer’s and equipped with remote control, Velcro, and a 200-foot range (Hey! Didn’t someone other than Will Ferrell once say immaturity keeps ya young?).
The interactive nature of the trainings happens when egos authentically get left at the door. Just as with our own patients, an environment of trust, humor, and safety made us all better listeners, easy collaborators, and more effective learners…not to mention, friends. When 30-hours of “Functional Occlusion, Science Driven Management” seem to fly by and you can’t wait to get home to implement the stuff you didn’t know you didn’t know, for me, the first image that always comes to mind is that first Little League at bat; don’t know about you but I couldn’t wait for the next one.
One of the diagnostic distinctions we now understand are pathologies that (1) involve an orthopedic problem with jaw position or (2) a muscular challenge to finding a comfortable, repeatable bite position. The former is called Constriction; the latter is Dysfunction. And just so you know, these terms have nothing to do with personality. Turns out, I have a touch of constriction.
Leaving my hotel at 6:30 AM on day One for the walk around Lake Union to the Kois Center, I indeed left my ego… some skin…and my Maui Jims at the door. If you stay at the Downtown-Lake Union Courtyard Marriott, watch out for the revolving door, especially if you’re really excited about learning, or the Seahawks.
I told the concierge I just needed some water; he responded, “It looks bad.” Armed with paper towels, Band-aids, and busted Maui Jims, I hustled to my room and called the Center to let ‘em know I was going to be late but I’d be there…as soon as I could stop the bleeding.
Flying home, I didn’t feel constricted at all. And it was cool hearing someone I really respect confirm that I wasn’t dysfunctional.
