As a newly minted orthodontist, I was convinced I knew everything. I graduated at the top of my dental school class and had been asked to teach orthodontics by the department head of my orthodontic program right after graduation. I had even decided to add to my own education on top of my formal assigned training. I scanned all the available orthodontic literature at my ortho program from 1972 (start of my formal training) to the early 1900s. I knew my stuff and was good at it!

I can remember being in conversation with someone who had crooked teeth and imagining in my mind exactly where I would place braces on the teeth, how the wires would then move the teeth, and how I would make the teeth fit like gears. I could visualize in my mind what the teeth would look like. I might forget a person’s name, but I had a photographic memory for their teeth and a clear vision of what they would look like when I finished. We dentists are actually a weird lot like that. I had white plaster models of before and after cases on display in a glass cabinet in my office—just like the orthodontist I went to as a 12-year-old boy! I proudly showed all these models of straight teeth to parents and kids.

Then I started getting flyers in the mail (long before email!) for a course by Dr. John Witzig. He was a general dentist teaching other general dentists to do orthodontics in weekend courses. He alleged that orthodontists were ruining faces and causing TMJ problems. I had never heard of him, but hated him anyway. I had spent two years of my life learning to do what he was criticizing and also learning that orthodontics was so complex that only orthodontists could do it. I was livid! Who did this guy think he was?

After being in practice for about five years, I began to look at the faces I had produced… and think that Dr. Witzig might be right! I felt guilty but put those thoughts out of my mind since I didn’t know anyone who had gone to his courses. When my best friend (and best referring dentist) invited me to lunch and asked me why I took out teeth so often and didn’t treat earlier, I was totally embarrassed. About that time, two orthodontists I had trained with told me I should take Witzig’s course because they had—and they believed him! Those three people gave me the three straws that broke the camel’s back. I went to hear Witzig. The guilt really hit me very hard. Let’s not dwell on that right now, but just say that I began a very painful process of change.

I began doing things in other ways and stopped removing teeth and retracting. The faces did look better. In time, I discovered that people actually had to breathe to stay alive and the size of the airway did matter. The process of recognition of the need to change started many years ago, but has never ended! What I did for almost 40 years was the diametric opposite of the first few years of my practice.

Fast forward to 2025. I look at faces and airways that I’ve treated and improved dramatically based on what I learned from others. It seems like ages ago when I made optimizing airway goal number one in my practice. I can’t imagine not making that the top of the list of “must haves.” I look at kids today and know they have been retracted—like I used to do. I feel bad for them. I look at adults I meet in social situations whose faces have been devastated and sometimes question them about their health. When they confirm my suspicion that they have severe OSA, I remember when I was doing treatment which I now know caused that very issue for others.

I quietly think of those people who helped put me over the edge and start thinking in a different way. I am committed to being that catalyst for making that change in other doctors’ thinking patterns. If I do that, I have a much better chance of helping the world be a safer, healthier place. This sounds corny, but I’m not a young man and think of the legacy I want to leave behind. Will the world be a better place because others helped change my thinking? Will my efforts help others do the same? I hope so. I’m trying. Are you?