Annette Taylor: School 'murder house' has lost its dreadful sting

Opinion

When I was a little girl, with curly hair and freckles, I could run like the wind. In close pursuit was my father, a doctor, waving a needle. Not for me a tetanus shot or a stitch, as I piled on the speed and flashed him a smile.

If only I'd displayed the same preservation techniques at my primary school dental clinic. Now, 40 years on, I can't run quite as fast and my once gleaming smile is darkened by amalgam fillings and the prospect of complicated dental manoeuvres such as root canals and caps.

I still flinch at the thought of visits to the "murder house". For hours they had me at their mercy while they drilled and filled. I was under no illusions: this was personal - they were out to get me.

However, it must be said that my daughter, 14, doesn't have one filling in her entire mouth. And yet she eats as many lollies and chocolates as I ever did, and also, when younger, was a regular dental nurse customer.

She returned from these visits with little bumble bees and snowmen made out of cotton wool and dental floss. All I got was fillings. Clearly, something has changed.
With trepidation, I visited Gordonton Primary School in the Waikato and had a hot cup of Milo with dental therapist Shiree Horn.

There's a change for a start - she's a dental therapist rather than a nurse. And, Shiree assured me, you seldom hear the words "murder house" these days.

"If you do, it's used by the parents."

Children are, she says, generally delighted to see her. One little boy drops by two or three times a week just to chat, demanding to know when she'll give him some fillings.

"In the end," says dental assistant Tasha Byrne, "we gave him an appointment card to put his mind at rest."

Byrne, who has been in the industry for about two years, also had a less-than-favourable experience when she was young but that's changed: "I'd be glad to go to a dental nurse any day now," she says.

Two little space creatures knock at the door (students are dressed up as an end-of-term treat) and deliver something to Horn, who invites them in and stamps their hands. She calls them sweethearts and they beam at her with beautiful teeth. The kids at Gordonton have good teeth, I'm told.

Horn moves round the district. She's just come from Huntly and will soon be working at Tauhei and Whitikahu. She graduated in 1989 and loves the job.

Nationally there are 500 to 600 dental therapists, says School Dental Services (acting) manager Diane Pevreal. This is dramatically fewer than 40 years ago.

"Children's teeth have improved amazingly since that time."

Pevreal gives fluoridation much of the credit. She also adds that philosophies have changed since my childhood. Back then the catchphrase was "extension for prevention" .

"That meant that even if you had only a little cavity, you needed a big filling on the basis that all the other little grooves in the tooth would decay. So it was better to do one filling that would do the lot.

"The old silver and mercury filling products needed bulk for strength, so small, shallow cavities had to be made large."

She adds that natural teeth were seen as an interim arrangement that would be replaced with "plastic fantastics". It's very different now. Gone are the old wooden chairs, the hand-mixing of fillings and the slow, treadle drills - although Pevreal keeps one in her office.

She says it's a struggle to attract school-leavers to the profession, which has a much lower profile now.

"Clinics used to be in the foreground of the school and the facilities were modern in their time. Many are now run-down and spend most of their time empty."

Nationwide, district health boards are looking at incentives such as scholarships to entice more young people, and improving salaries and introducing flexible working hours.

"We're also looking at the possibilities of refurbishment for some clinics and perhaps a community superclinic."

As I leave the Gordonton school, I collar a little girl wearing a space outfit and ask if she'd been to see the dental nurse. What did she think of her?

Her face lights up as she tell me she's lovely. "And she gave me a filling!" Her friend looks a bit sad that she didn't get one, too.

Clutching the little butterfly and snail that Horn made me, I head home.