COLUMN: Tales from the Gravel Ridge – A Rosengard memory of dental hygiene

Not long ago, I had occasion to schedule an appointment with my dentist. It is actually a delight to visit this dental clinic. Everybody is congenial and since such visits don’t cause me anxiety in the first place, it might even be classified as something of an outing.

My experience in dental hygiene today is not unlike that of many other Canadians. We get our teeth cleaned from time to time, and if need be we undergo treatment as recommended by the dentist. In between such specific attention we try our best with toothbrush and paste, along with dental floss if we are sufficiently motivated.

When it becomes necessary, a good old-fashioned toothpick can be used to advantage. That part has remained unchanged from my Rosengard childhood days, although I don’t recall ever seeing the round type back then. Comparisons between my own dental hygiene then and now end with the mention of the toothpick.

Toothbrushes today are easy to come by. Your dentist may well provide you with one from time to time. It wasn’t always so. I was scarcely aware of toothbrushes until I was perhaps nine years old.

My grade four teacher ran a rigorous personal hygiene program at school. We were given points for such things as good grooming generally, including clean hands and fingernails, and for having brushed our teeth. I do not recall seeing Rosengard children ever coming to school in a particularly dishevelled appearance during the 10 grades I was a student there. Nevertheless, our teacher of the day initiated this particular project for reasons of her own. In retrospect, she may in fact have had dental hygiene in particular in mind. As a result, it is for that aspect of the project that I specifically remember it.

I had no toothbrush, and so of course I couldn’t get marks on that score. Being well-groomed wasn’t so difficult. Poor as we were, going to school with torn clothes was unthinkable. Any tears in our garments were carefully mended by my mother. Before commencing any outdoor chores, we had to change from our school clothes into work clothes. Generally then, we were relatively clean.

My mother routinely braided my hair before I went to school in the morning. After making a careful part in the middle, she made a little braid on each side of my head. She then took these and braided them into the hair at the back. I definitely did not have an unkempt appearance, so for our purposes, my hairstyle was quite suitable. All in all, scoring points with the teacher wasn’t too difficult.

The prizes awarded from time to time were an incentive to keep at it as well. With such high stakes, it is small wonder that I began to have a burning desire for a toothbrush. Toothpaste I could do without, but rubbing a clean cloth over my teeth, dipped in salt, just didn’t cut it as far as tooth-brushing was concerned. Presumably the salt and cloth method would be a reasonable substitute but how could I tell my teacher that I’d brushed, when deep down I knew I didn’t even own the necessary instrument. Besides, there’s nothing exotic about a cloth, even if it is clean. No, it was a toothbrush I wanted.

I actually ended up getting the prized item that year. Alas, the glamour of brushing wears off even when your brush is brand new. Nevertheless, having now received what I so much desired, I could hold up my head, secure in the knowledge that I now too was a toothbrush owner.

These many decades later, it seems those efforts in dental hygiene have worked in my favour. So too, quite possibly, is the fact that pop and all manner of what is now commonly referenced as “junk food” were absent from our diet.