Karen Dee Michalowicz , often fondly referred to as Mrs. Mikey, was my teacher in 6th and 8th grade, my personal task-manager in 7th grade, my math tutor during high school, and my friend throughout.  I was honored when she referred to herself as my "Honorary Grandma".

Let me begin by admitting that I have no talent or love for math.  In fact, I stink at it.  However, Mrs. Mikey's charisma captivated my attention and fostered my love of math history.  She could make Archimedes' "Eureka!" enthralling.  Her sheer enthusiasm for math was enough to get even a math-pariah interested.  She could show you concrete examples of math at work in the natural world, in your life.  It wasn't just numbers on a page when she explained it to you.  Her love for her subject transcended the classroom.  Her celebrated work, which included pioneering research on female mathematicians, was frequently published.  In fact, just a few months ago, she proudly showed me posters, published by the Benjamin Banneker Association, which displayed her research.

As a teacher, Mrs. Mikey was certainly memorable.  Her yearly chaperoning of school trips to Assateague were the stuff of legend.  When a group of girls kept her up all night talking in the next tent, she exacted her revenge by scattering potato chips all around their tent to attract the blaringly loud, squawking seagulls that terrorized the campsite.  Mrs. Mikey strolled past the hysterical girls, remarking, "Well, you should have been more polite."  She cooked delicious fresh-caught fish and went to the Roller Skating Rink along with the kids.  She was idolized by other teachers for her fearless participation in the Student/Faculty Student/Faculty basketball games.  Mrs. Mikey played dirty and performed shameless victory dances.

Mrs. Mikey strongly believed that kids shouldn't grow up too fast.  She was even known to bellow, "No sex!" whenever a girl wore a low-cut top or a boy and a girl kissed at school.  She was known to call students' parents saying, "Your son or daughter is not dressed appropriately for school.  Would you please take them home so they can put on more modest clothes?"  She also had a set of catch  phrases my fellow students will remember.  "Boo errors" were careless computational mistakes (which she claimed only to make on Fridays).  "Lee lees" were little bits of garbage on the floor.

Probably no other person has ever had so much faith in me as Mrs. Mikey did.  She volunteered to help me get back on task when my disorganization started harming my grades in the 7th grade (and she refused payment for her efforts).  Mr. McKinley would send me to her during study hall and she'd "fuss at" me: "Diana, I have to nag you because I love you and so you know I'm trying to help."  She always took my side, even when I didn't deserve it.  I'd tell her about a petty spat with a friend, and she'd say something like, "Well, she should know you didn't mean to hurt her.  You never do hurtful things intentionally.  You're a gentle, warm-hearted person."  Few others perceived me that way.  She saw past people's rough edges, and gave even the most eccentric students acceptance and care.

I loved her company because I loved who I was when I was with her.  Her patience with me was indefatigable.  I would sigh wearily, fed up and frustrated, but she never gave up on me.  She never accepted the notion that I was bad at math, insisting that I was "spatially gifted - you have such wonderful artistic ability!"  After my graduation from Langley, she attended community plays I was in with her family.  In her own words, we were "very dear friends."

I lived 10 minutes' walk from her, and she became my math tutor.  I would walk to her house with my books.  She allowed me to play with her pets during my tutoring sessions.  Amber, her ancient cat, would yowl at the door until we let her in, while orange cat Jacqueo drooled and demanded belly rubs.  Mrs. Mikey said I was spoiling all her pets.  Later on, she showed me how Joleen's dog, Sandy, could "sing".  Mrs. Mikey howled mournfully and Sandy's wolf ancestry emerged in whimpers of cacophonous song.

She prepared for my tutoring sessions and visits by buying my favorite snacks: Pepperidge Farm Brussels, Sunflower bread.  It was never requested, she just did liked doing it.  As soon as I came in, she'd ask me if I wanted some tea.  In my experience, only the very best people ask if they can make tea for you.  She'd buy three different kinds of cookies, wanting to give me options.  Math wasn't so bad when you had three kinds of cookies.

Mrs. Mikey's house was an extension of her.  Her calm demeanor leant an atmosphere of peace.  The kitchen was decorated with a fruit theme, and she had magnets of Mickey Mouse interspersed with images of the Holy Virgin.  The marigold beds in the front yard and the knickknacks by the fireplace, framed Anne Geddes baby photography, the Disney snowglobes and the ancient math texts: they were all her.  She had a marvelous basement devoted almost entirely to the amusement of her grandchildren.  Her Beanie Baby collection, countless Teletubbies videos, and rocking horses lived in the basement.  She also had a computer for playing games - her ability to understand new technology exceeded that of any other adult I've ever known.  Google her name and you'll understand what I mean.  She got addicted to a game called "Bugdom" for a while, and would play for hours with grandson Mikey.  She decorated for every season extensively, frequenting Michael's stores.  Her Christmas décor was a marvel, but my person favorite was her autumn look.  The goggle-eyed turkey centerpieces, the maple leaf napkins.

Mrs. Mikey was incredibly generous with her time and her heart.  Her adventurous, brave constitution meant she was always traveling the world for math conferences, but she never forgot to bring me back a little something.  From Denmark, it was cookies; from England, it was a pen from Harrod's.  I returned with gifts for her from my travels, as well - our friendship was remarkably balanced.  We also exchanged birthday presents and holiday gifts.  She took great pains to find Hannukah paper for me.

Mrs. Mikey's tolerance of and interest in religions other than her own was remarkable.  We frequently engaged in animated intellectual discussions, and she liked to ask me deep questions, "What do Jewish people believe about repentance?"  True to her faith, she adhered to the doctrine of tolerance and charity, and she volunteered her time at SOME - So Others Might Eat: a homeless kitchen in D.C.  She also orchestrated Langley's policy of community service in the Upper School via service at SOME.  She was on first-name terms with the entire staff.  She contributed so much to her community.  She played organ at her church for decades.  She loved to tell me stories of the two little old ladies she drove to church.  I always smiled to myself, thinking, "Well, you're almost a little old lady, too."  Almost.

Have you ever known someone so wholly in love with their grandchildren?  Whenever a class wanted to get her off-topic, all they'd have to do was to ask how her grandchildren were doing.  She was always glowing with pride about something one or the other of them had done: "Stevie is turning into such a wonderful artist and Mikey has a beautiful voice!"  In her living room, we applauded concerts of Mikey's guitar-playing and Stevie's drumming.  The racket was music to her ears.

Perhaps it is Grandma Karen Dee's sense of humor that I miss the most.  I wish I could remember more individual instances of her wisecracking, but I never thought to write them down.  Needless to say, we shared many a laugh.  "You drive me crazy!" she said cantankerously to anyone she liked.  In eighth grade, I played a teacher in a show.  Costume?  Well, Mrs. Mikey said, I'll lend you one of my muumuus.  Once, we tried to give Jacqueo a flea bath in her laundry room sink.  He was outraged, and responded by attempting to claw his way up her curtains.  When we finally accosted the cat, and he plunged, shivering in humiliation, into the water, Mrs. Mikey absently said, "I should have gotten a dog."

After I went to college in Ohio, I made sure to see her during every break.  We often went to the French café La Madeleine for lunch or tea.  She seemed more annoyed than anything else by her illness - never self-pitying or deflated.  She had plans and she wanted to get on with them!  She was very excited about a new book on African Art and its use of geometric patterns.  A tea in June was the last time I saw Mrs. Mikey.

It can hardly be overstated what a loss her death is for everyone who knew Karen Dee Michalowicz.  Her funeral was a testament to how many lives she impacted positively.  Her insatiable intellectual curiosity, unflagging concern for others, and sparkling vivacity distinguished her as a marvelous woman.

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