The Notebook

In my day we called it the 'Murder House'. The small building at the entrance to the country school I attended usually lay uninhabited, but came to life a couple of times a year. Invitation to the Murder House came via a small notebook, and every time a child entered the classroom clutching said notebook, we all silently prayed that it was not our name at the top of the invite list.
The time in the chair was spent clutching its arms as the austere Dental Nurse investigated our teeth with her hooked metal implement, squirting pink liquid in and blowing air as necessary...  not to mention the drilling...
I am not sure if the same feeling of fear that existed then, still accompanies a visit to see the Dental Therapist today. The environment certainly has changed. All dental checks for our students are done in a mobile van, and the one currently visiting our school is brand new and very flash. Any 'work' to be done occurs back at a central clinic. The chirpy and friendly therapist has students relaxed and laughing before and during their checks. She views previous notes on a monitor directly beside her as she works, and an assistant updates it digitally as the therapist works, from a computer at the front of the van. Lighting, seat adjustments etc are all pre-programmed and can be changed with the press of a button.
But the invite still comes via a small notebook...