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Home Education Magazine
July-August 2002 - Articles and Columns
Letter to My Neurosurgeon - Teri Brown
I liked your calm eyes, soft voice and mild manner. I liked your fingers too, long and tapered with no discernible tremor. Very important in someone whose hands are going to be deep in my brain.
Yes, I have decided to go with you on the removal of my tumor. I like the fact that you are a woman. I may be a bit prejudiced, but I know that even in today's political climate a woman would still have to work a bit harder to specialize in neurosurgery. But most importantly, while you were telling me about the surgery and explaining the MRI, I was struck by the fact that you saw me as a whole person... Thank you for that.
But an hour is not a long enough time to get to know someone intimately, to understand that her life matters, so I decided to write you a letter and tell you a bit about myself, to explain who I am, or more correctly, who we are. Because I am not really just an individual, I am a family. You met my husband at your office, a funny little man with the cute smile and the tears on the edge of his voice. We have been married for thirteen years and best friends for fourteen, so you can understand the ready tears.
He told you that I was a stay-at-home mom and I laughed inwardly at that. You see, I am so much more. On my own, I am an insatiable reader and a semi-successful freelance writer. I write of the real and the imagined, but mostly I write of my family and what we do.
I also consist of two children, my daughter, who is eleven, and my son, who is twelve. We are not really your normal family, either. You see, we homeschool, a decision made at their birth that we have not for one second regretted. Homeschool has come to define who we are as a family and who I am as a human being. I am a homeschool mom and as such, I have been privileged to watch my children learn to read and discover the mystery and beauty of science and the precision of mathematics. While other mothers wait for the big yellow bus, my children and I snuggled back into bed and read stories. We rejected living the "normal" life to create our own, and thus far we've been successful; our life has been filled with discovery, freedom and even magic.
You see, we don't really homeschool at the kitchen table. Few homeschoolers do, though that is the image the media has chosen to give us. Our kitchen table is generally too full of various projects to accommodate bookwork. Once it was Native American pottery (our version of it, anyway). Another time leaves of all colors and sizes covered the surface as we painstakingly ironed delicate window decorations. Often times my inventive, creative daughter usurps the table for her own purposes, leaving us to eat in the living room once again.
Much of our homeschooling has taken place outside, in fields, on rivers, in the forests, and near ponds. Sometimes our homeschool comes from investigating odd parts of town, discovering old shops and unusual restaurants. So much of our homeschool comes from the library that we practically live there, volunteering when we can. We've spent lots of time learning with friends, girl scouting, science club, sports and other pursuits that throw us together with people of all ages and interests.
Quite frankly, none of this would be possible without me. I am pivotal to this life of ours. The facilitator, the nutritionist, the scheduler, and the protector. I am the dreamer who envisions what learning and life can be and I am the brick layer who lays the foundation. I am the one who lights the candles and adds the fresh flowers. I am the one who wraps the children up in the middle of the night and serves their hot chocolate outside so they can watch stars streaking across the sky. I am the one who warms the honey-colored beeswax so they can create fragrant models. I am the one who once filled an entire high school auditorium with homeschoolers so that my own children could watch knights joust and sword fight. I help them find mentors, take classes, and shape dreams. As they grow older, I help them plan their lives and listen to their hopes and aspirations.
I often think that homeschooling moms overlook just how important they are. Do any of us wonder just what might happen to their families if they weren't there? I have had to do this and it's frightening.
I tell you this so you understand how important I am. The whole thing - our whole way of life - depends on me, and since you will be operating on my brain, it sort of depends on you too. You are now temporarily a part of the Brown Family Homeschool -- possibly the most important person ever to join our exclusive family "school." I felt it imperative that you understand on a deep level that as your delicate hands move gently through my head, they are also moving through our lives.
So please, please be careful...our homeschool is depending on you.
Surgery Update
Teri Brown came through her April 10th operation with flying colors. Though she is not sure how much of the tumor was removed (and won't be for several more months), she knows that it is completely benign.
"That's enough for now," says Brown, then adds: "I wouldn't have made it through this if it weren't for the trust I had in my God, my neurosurgeon, and my family."
Teri also attributes much of her peace of mind to a local Oregon support group that she belongs to. Orsig primarily began as an online political watchdog group, but has morphed into so much more.
"Once these people knew what was happening I was inundated with requests from people wanting to help. They have brought meals, run my children to events, given me gifts of books and snuggly socks, and basically kept my family going while I was gone."
© 2002 Teri Brown
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July-August 2002 - Articles and Columns
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