‘You don’t have to brush your teeth – just the ones you want to keep.’ – Author Unknown

‘A good friend is cheaper than therapy.’ – Author Unknown

Had my first tooth pulled today.

Now, I haven’t been to the dentist in about sixteen years. Never a filling, never a toothache. Once I had the braces removed I pretty much abandoned all interest in ever setting foot into another dental clinic of any sort again. And until February, I didn’t.

Now, sixteen years is not bad, I reckon, for looking after your teeth on your own. Not bad at all. At least, until a few of them started to fall apart on my while I was eating about a year or so back. I pondered the problem for a few weeks as I continued to find little bits of enamel in my dinner, but before too long they seemed to stop disintegrating, and even better, they didn’t ache or hurt. So I ignored them.

Then I noticed another threatening to do the same. So I bit the bullet (pardon the pun), and wandered into the local dentist clinic I hadn’t set foot in for the better part of sixteen years. I wasn’t even on their records any more!

They couldn’t fit me in for about six months, so I wandered down the street to the next clinic and asked about a check up.

‘When was your last one?’ they asked.

‘Aw, really early nineties?’ I answered.

‘And you still have your teeth?’

They fit me in and I had a check up. Short story was, two had to be pulled, and three had to be filled. I thought that was a pretty good score considering the time between visits and my irregular brushing. So I made the appointments and finally had the first last week to put three fillings in. Unfortunately, then they noticed there were two more fillings to be done and a third tooth to be pulled. Bugger.

So I wandered in this afternoon to have the next appointment. Fill another tooth, and pull the first one out. I wasn’t too concerned now about the filling and the needles – they’ve improved since the last time I had one in my mouth, but the extraction was concerning me if I’m honest. I asked him to talk me through it, but I figured I’d only feel uncomfortable and hear the odd crack and splintering sound. Any aches would come after the happy juice had worn off.

Short story again, it came out before I realised it as I didn’t actually feel it come loose. Yes, I felt the wriggling and levering and rocking stuff as my head rolled from side to side, and at one point I was concerned he would stretch the corner of my mouth too far and it would get the dental equivalent of a hamstring tear, but it was quite a simple procedure.

I wandered out able to talk with no pain and only half a box of tissues jammed in the hole in the back of my mouth.

So I wandered into the shopping centre for a quick browse because you don’t drive into town with petrol the way it is without making at least some effort to make it worth your while, eh?

Which is when I ran into one of the kids. Not just any kid from school, the little feller from the basketball team. By the way, they lost the grand final the other week. It’s a shame, but you don’t win them all. If you did, you’d have no reason to play, eh?

Now, most kids when they see a teacher will do one of two things. Wave with a slightly awkward, nervous smile, sometimes with a slight hint of guilt, or look the other way and hope to hell you haven’t seen them. Well, this kid’s different, at least when it comes to me, I suppose.

He ran half way around the plaza to catch me, grinning like a Cheshire Cat, to rabbit on about the things he’d just bought with his family and we wandered back to the checkout. After all, we hadn’t caught up with each other for, aw, twelve whole days. Twelve days is almost forever when you’re twelve, eh?

‘What are you doin’ here, Mr V? Shopping or something?’ Note the hint of boredom in the word ’shopping’, clearly something he thought wasn’t high on the list of ‘cool reasons to walk around the plaza’.

‘Actually, champ, I just had a tooth pulled…’

The sudden look of caring concern and the subdued voice asking ‘did it hurt?’ just made my day.

Better than a panadol, that was.

Officially, Clean Up Australia Day is this Sunday, March 2nd. The little problem here is that the kids aren’t at school that day. They’re at home, probably sitting in front of their X-boxes, their PS2s or in the corner. Maybe that’s a slight generalisation tainted by the ever-so-slightly-mental Friday I worked my way through today. If I’m honest, I reckon it probably is. But anyway…

Because the kids aren’t going to be here on Sunday (and, most importantly for us, neither are we teachers!), today, Friday, February 29th (and didn’t we talk about Leap Years a lot today!), was Clean Up Australia for Schools Day. Meaning… we dragged the kids around the school ground and the sports oval complex nearby with plastic bags and a shortage of plastic gloves. Yes, plastic is not really environment friendly, but neither’s leaving all that rubbish flitting around in the breeze either.

Lots of glass around, to be honest. The kids thought it was great to find an old VB bottle or two, but I did get a little sick of trying to pick up shattered glasses by the roadside, and I didn’t even bother when the kids found little tiny bits of glass scattered across the asphalt car parks.

The kids seemed to enjoy it, even if it did cut into their Free Time Friday afternoon, which most had to use finishing off their week’s work anyway. Maybe that was why they were happy to stay out there as long as possible…

I don’t think we’re technically allowed to call it ’scab duty’ any more… I think ‘emu parade’ is the more politically friendly and slightly amusing term for it now.

Shame. I always liked the term ’scab duty’.

* Not to do with this post, but if you missed today’s previous short post, read on again. Seems my other site is of Cultural Significance!