Robyn Mills, RDH, MSDH, CTTS, FADHA, CPIPC

I did not come to dental hygiene by accident, nor did I come to it simply looking for a profession; I came to it because it is where compassion, science, and human connection intersect in ways that feel deeply meaningful to me. I came carrying a story shaped by family, loss, and the realization that early detection can mean the difference between hope and heartbreak. Long before I ever taught a student or stepped into a leadership role, I watched someone I loved face oral cancer, an experience that permanently changed how I see the mouth, the patient, and my responsibility as a clinician.

My great aunt’s diagnosis left an imprint on me that never faded. She had no conventional risk factors for oral cancer and never smoked or consumed alcohol, a fact that continues to echo in every careful screening I perform. That experience taught me that oral cancer does not always present dramatically and that its earliest signs can be subtle, easily overlooked, or dismissed if we are not intentional. From that moment forward, I understood that being a dental professional meant more than performing clinical procedures; it meant safeguarding lives through vigilance, patient education, and advocacy.

Some of the most inspiring moments of my career have occurred during quiet, unremarkable appointments. I think of the patient who hesitated when I began an oral cancer screening and asked why it mattered, and the look of relief when I explained what I was assessing and why. I think of the patient who returned for a follow-up visit grateful that someone finally took the time to look, and of the countless individuals who left the chair more informed, more empowered, and more seen than when they arrived. These moments, brief as they may seem, remind me that presence and intention can be transformative.

That belief has followed me into every role I hold today. I perform an oral cancer screening on every patient I encounter, regardless of the reason they are in the chair. Whether I am treating my own hygiene patient in private practice, removing sutures, administering local anesthesia for a colleague, assisting a student with a tenacious piece of calculus, or stepping into a clinical interaction for only a brief moment, I take the time to assess, palpate, and truly look.

As an educator, these same moments shape how I teach. I emphasize to students that oral cancer screenings are not optional, not situational, and not dependent on a perfect appointment. They are a responsibility. I want future hygienists to understand that prevention and early detection are acts of compassion and that our presence alone can alter someone’s health trajectory. Watching students gain confidence in these skills and begin to recognize their impact continues to renew my excitement for this profession.

What I love most about dental hygiene, both in practice and in education, is the trust it requires. Patients trust us with their vulnerability, and students trust us to model what excellence and integrity look like in real time. I strive to honor that trust by remaining present, thorough, and intentional in every interaction.

Dental hygiene has given me a platform to educate, to advocate, and to lead with purpose. It has taught me that impact often happens quietly, in the extra minute spent examining tissue, in the decision not to rush, or in the courage to speak up when something does not feel right. These are the moments that sustain my passion for this work and affirm its importance.

I carry my great aunt’s story with me into every patient interaction and every classroom discussion. It reminds me why I never assume, why I remain vigilant, and why I treat each opportunity to assess and advocate as meaningful. Through the profession of dental hygiene, I have found a way to transform deep personal experiences and everyday patient moments into a lifelong commitment to care, education, and advocacy, carried out through one intentional interaction at a time.