Columbia University School of Dental and Oral Surgery - Dental Columbian Yearbook (New York, NY)

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Upstairs in the Pathology lecture room we had pre- views of coming attractions that we would study in the lab below. The door was slammed locked, the lights were turned out, the projector was turned on, and the professor ' s commentary began: Our slides for today are on Hodgkin ' s Disease. This disease is distinguished by the presence of Reed-Sternberg cells in the blood stream. Let ' s find one on the slide. A small, hazy cell was pointed out. This doesn ' t appear too clear. Let ' s switch to high power. A larger, but hazier cell was flashed on the screen. I think we ' ll see it better on the photomicrograph. The other projector was turned on. No, this doesn ' t reproduce the cellular stain accurately . . . Well, there should be a good slide downstairs in the view box . . . Ultimately, the sophomore microscopists scanned their individual faded slides in search of another mys- tery to reproduce with smudge sticks, and scientifically sharpened pencils. Final exams came in full force and at long last the big theory courses were coming to a close. Mean- while, back in the dental department, adding machines were computing the results of Operative Technique, and x-ray machines marked C B models in boxes. When all the tallies were taken, and the smoke in the staff room vanished, we toured the dental clinic for a good location at which to set up our Junior Year Dental practice. The blissful third year began with the bright pros- pect of a permanent parking space for our operative kits. As time went along, we learned to prepare teeth, impression mouths, fill cavities, and reserve our place on the instructor ' s waiting line. The sophomore lectures on sharpening pathology drawing pencils were replaced by lectures on sharpen- ing bench knives. (Professional development.) Occlusal Dynamics provided five ingredients every operator needs to achieve success — the L.A. Cohn Quint. But for the exam our class came up with forty- two different guesses on the meaning of cusp warpage. ilSilli Initial Incision Face Bow (After the exam, our instructors offered three more guesses.) Operative provided ten items to keep on the bracket tables. (It was disquieting to learn that the syllabus was not one of those items. ) Perio taught us three contraindications to the thirty- two unit fixed splint. (I think one contraindication was a condition called Anodontia.) I vaguely remember that in the Junior Year our class pooled all the equipment and instruments that we owned. The names that had been scratched on den- tal items no longer mattered; with fraternal feelings we helped ourselves to anything we needed. The only trouble with the system was that the wear and tear of passing things from hand to hand took a heavy toll, and many fragile spatulas fell out of circulation. In the Junior Year we yearned for larger baseplates and smaller anterior porcelain teeth. But in the Senior Year our yearnings expanded to include one dental technician, one secretary, and one dental hygienist for each student. Because of these needs, some students raised the roof. In response, the faculty raised the re- quirements. The Senior Class was divided into four groups. Jack Rosen was surprised to find that the third group was assigned to him. One spastic student in the fourth group saved time by teaching his patients to set up his bracket table during the nine o ' clock lecture. Then he lunged to the lead of his group by doing a direct oral wax-up of a partial denture harness. Asiatic flu epidemics, subway strikes, disappoint- ments and cancellations do not help seniors meet their requirements. In the throes of those tribulations, the Class of 1958. like many classes before us, found that most of those fearful figures in long white sleeves who stalked the clinic floor — men like Ed Cain — were not just supervisors. They were also our maestros and friends. Through their example, we learned that good fellowship and good dentistry are inseparable. Earl M. Warman

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Third degree mobility broken down by the system and excreted by the Dean ' s Office. A serious and common side action of D.D.S. is its ulcerogenic effect. Then we awoke to the Lecturer ' s droll tones saying, There are seventeen minutes left this morning. I will take two minutes to introduce the movie we have set up to project. The movie will last nine minutes and forty-three seconds, and we will have five minutes and seventeen seconds left for questions. This movie is a very dramatic and clear picture of what D.D.S. does to the respiratory, circulatory, and nervous systems. O.K.? Let it roll. Bill. The projector was started. Some stalling, grinding, noises were heard, and the machine conked out. The professor darted to the front of the room. While the machine is being fixed, we ' ll have our question period — to save time. We thought, maybe a stethescope would help. When the projector rolled again, the picture ap- peared but the sound track was dead. The lecturer ' s voice boomed over the murmuring audience: Even though the narration is missing, the movie is a valuable, dramatic — Poing! The film snapped. Bill flicked the lights on, and started splicing . . . Reparative opera- tions continued as students began to leave the amphi- theater. Practically no one was left inside when we heard, even from the noisy hall, an irrepressible voice, There ' s still forty-two seconds . . . In Prosthetics, a compensating cure is one thing; in Bacteriology it is something else. One fine day (fine outside that is) forty-two sophomores sat in a Bact. lab beside forty-two blazing bunsen burners, eight large windows (kept tightly closed) and two instructors glar- ing fiery eyes upon them. What was it all about? Did we all flunk the examination? One instructor stood up front on a little platform and rolled his eyes at us from man to man. He kept his chin down low, as if confronted with something malignant, something sickening. The other instructor walked around the room, stopping at each student, glaring at him as if hoping the vile student would dis- solve under his stare, and whispered a number to him. The first instructor spoke: My colleague is giving you the grades of the examination. Now I just want to tell you that something must be wrong someplace! When the whole class leaves out the same question, when almost the whole class misunderstands the same ques- tion, when the instructors have to raise all the grades forty points so that a good percentage of you can pass (that is twenty percent of you), something must be wrong somewhere. • Yes, this was the compensating curve of Bacteri- ology. It compensated for our real performances. At the end of a tirade that was filled with omenous pauses and fearful inflections, the instructor changed his tone: Let me beg you all to ask questions. Please, have you any questions? But the unworthy, intractable students sat in silence. We just couldn ' t think of a question that met the instructor ' s criterion of a valid question — that is a question whose answer cannot be found in the general or medical library. Well, if you have no questions, we ' ll go on with the little demonstration we ' ve planned for you on the phenomenon called anaphylaxis. We couldn ' t get a guinea pig today, so would anyone like to volunteer? . . . And so we marched on. Basic Science went storming along. Pathology joined the passing parade and we got in step. A very friendly looking man with a crew cut stood before us: Wel- come to General Pathology. Every year questions come up, so let me clarify certain things from the start: First, we will be giving out some notes every session— about thirty pages at a time — to outline the subject of the following meeting. These notes are not a sub- stitute for Anderson ' s text. They may be longer, and more detailed than the text, but that are not a substi- tute for it. Secondly, remember this: the men in charge of this department welcome your suggestions. Sure enough, some suggestions cropped up. For ex- ample, one student wondered, Wouldn ' t it be better to look at the slides instead of drawing them? Sharpen this knife, doc! Whoops! '

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SENIORS