The first tooth I ever made was red, green and blue. It was a central incisor and carved out of wax. My first Dental Anatomy assignment. I spent over 6 hours working on it and earned a “C-” along with the constructive comment, “Put a little more effort into it next time.” And, under that, the more cynical “This is good, if what you’re making is a blob.”
Dental school was a trip. Rarely was anything good enough for the instructors. They wanted perfection, and didn’t let you get away with anything less. Although I disagreed with their methods (the student next to me had his wax tooth thrown to the ground and stomped on) I see where they were coming from: teeth were to be revered, respected, and restored back to their original form—unless the owner requested otherwise.
Today, the teeth I work on are made of hard enamel on the outside and softer dentin on the inside. I restore them with tooth-colored materials when esthetics is a factor and gold when strength (and bling) rule. They don’t take me 6 hours anymore, and no one is driving me crazy by constantly criticizing and critiquing my efforts.
I do that all by myself.