Memorial service for Dennis Schneider
February 21, 2025
Dennis Schneider passed away on June 6, 2024 after 51 years as a mathematics professor at Knox College. Along with his family, we are organizing a memorial celebration in his honor.
The memorial celebration will be held in the Lincoln Room at Knox on Saturday, May 3, 2025. We are asking attendees to arrive at 12:00, when drinks will be available. Lunch will begin around 12:30. Our tentative plan is that opening comments will be given by the Dean and Provost of Knox College, Michael Schneider, starting at about at 1:15. This will be followed by invited presentations given by family and friends.
When you arrive at the Lincoln room there will be a guest book you can sign as well as nametags to fill out.
If any of you would like to write up and share one of your memories of Dennis, please send that to williams@email.unc.edu. We will post the memories we receive on this webpage.
We encourage you to check this page occasionally for any time changes or updates.
To help us plan the lunch, we ask you to RSVP to williams@email.unc.edu if you plan to attend. Please let us know if you will be coming alone or with a companion. We ask you to do this as soon as you can, but before April 19, 2025.
We hope to see you in May,
Pedro Teixeira (Knox Math Department) pteixeir@knox.edu
Mark Williams (Knox class of 1977) williams@email.unc.edu
Update: March 7, 2025.
Here are a couple of items found recently by Jean Schneider. About the first,
Pedro Teixeira tells us: “The drawing was posted on the bulletin board next to Dennis’s office since I
arrived at Knox, and it’s probably much older (from the 80’s, maybe). Dennis
never figured out who did it.”
Pedro also provides some information about the other item:
“The press release and the flyers were my doing. It started when we were at Iron
Spike with Michael and Lindsey. Pokemons came into the conversation, and one of
them put their cell phone in Dennis’s hands, and Dennis caught a Pokemon right
there. Next day, I showed him that Mathematica knew about Pokemons, and Michael
took a few pictures of Dennis playing with Pokemons on his computer, without
Dennis noticing it. A few days later, Dennis was out of town for a day (I think
he went to Washington to participate in an NSF panel), and I put up copies of
the press release and the other fliers around the building—and Dennis kept
copies on his bulletin board.”
Update: March 10, 2025 from Jack Dechow (Knox 2019)
I started at Knox in the fall of 2015 as a physics major. Along with my fellow physic majors (and later roommates) Danny Andreev, Peter Driscoll, and Quinn Sharp, I took Calculus 1-3 and Linear Algebra with Dr. Schneider. Over the course of the ~1 year of daily classes with Dr. Schneider, we began to really enjoy the little phrases he would throw into each class. Things like “precision of language is important!”, “practice your derivatives every night, 10 times before bed”, and finally “It’s Miller Time!”. During our calculus courses, whenever Dr. Schneider would do a complicated example, once we all got through the actual calculus portion of the problem and it was only algebra remaining, he would always exclaim “and now its Miller Time!”. We all thought this was hilarious and started saying it to each other ourselves. I’m pretty sure it’s a reference to a 90’s Miller Lite commercial? Anyway, sometime around the end of second year we finished taking math courses with Dr. Schneider and thought it would be fun to get him a “Miller Time” sign to sort of commemorate the time we’d spent with him and the impact he had on all our educations and future careers. I think we each put up about $25 and we ordered it directly from China and gave it to Dr. Schneider. I am actually from Galesburg and would stop in to chat with him any time I was in town and was glad to see it was still hanging up. I went on to get my PhD in hydrology and spend the majority of my days doing linear algebra, so I think of these things often. I still have a copy of his Linear Algebra textbook which I use as my reference book. Danny, Peter, and Quinn all went on to be Electrical/Mechanical/Mechanical engineers after Knox. I’m sure they would all agree the impact Dr. Schneider had on us, for quite a while he was a sort of centralizing figure in our young lives.
As for my uncle Doug (also Knox Physics alum, 1990?1991?), when we had heard about Dr. Schneider passing, he relayed the following story to me:
“My last year at Knox, Dr. Schneider ran an independent study in Differential Equations for me over the summer so I could get the last credit I needed to graduate on time.”
Sorry for the lengthy email and delay in response. I just moved to Chapel Hill North Carolina this last week to start a new position at the University of North Carolina. I appreciate you all letting me keep the sign, I’m glad I’ll be able to keep it hanging. I think of Dr. Schneider often, and I’m very sorry for your loss. I hope these stories shine some light on the kind of person Dennis was, and the kind of impact he had on many, many students over the years at Knox College.
Update: March 11, 2025: Here is the obituary that appeared in the Galesburg Register-Mail on June 21, 2024, along with the picture that accompanied it.
Dennis Schneider died unexpectedly on June 6th, 2024, several days after being severely injured in a fall down a set of stairs. He was born in Detroit, Michigan on June 1, 1943, to Alton Charles and Virginia Katherine (nee Trombly) Schneider. A loving father to his four sons, he will be sorely missed by Robert, Mark, and Jacob, while Ben, the youngest, tragically died a few months before Dennis’s own death. Dennis is survived by his brother Bruce, his sister Linda Clark, his lifelong friend Jean Schneider, and his grandchildren (Alyssa, Spencer, Sophia, and Luciano Schneider). He will be missed by a number of close friends and colleagues, including, but not limited to, Frederick Ortner, Pedro Teixeira, and Mark Williams.
Dennis not only loved his family, he was passionate about mathematics. He received his B.S. in math in 1965, his M.S. in 1966, and his Ph.D. in 1973, all from the University of Michigan. He joined the faculty of Knox College in the fall of 1973, where he taught mathematics until the day of his accident. Dennis was a demanding and exacting teacher who always tried to draw out the best in his students, many of whom ended up pursuing careers in mathematics and/or related disciplines. He introduced a number of new pedagogical tools to teaching at Knox and to his brother, tools that facilitate the teaching and use of mathematics, the most notable of which was Mathematica. His classic textbook Linear Algebra: A Concrete Introduction, and the Knox Packages, a collection of Mathematica programs for calculus and linear algebra, are widely used and admired. In 1977 he won the Philip Green Wright-Lombard College outstanding teaching award, and, in 2007, the Distinguished Teaching Award of the Illinois Section of the Mathematical Association of America in 2007. His devotion to his students was unquestionably a major reason why, when a weighted ranking technique was used, Knox was rated among the top 30 undergraduate level programs in mathematics nationwide whose graduates would go on to earn a Ph.D. in mathematics or statistics.
His impact on students was recently attested to by a symposium at Knox on June 1st of this year that was held to celebrate his teaching career, and which was attended by a number of students whom he had taught over his 50-year teaching career. Unfortunately, Dennis did not get to attend this symposium, or to witness this tribute, because his fall occurred shortly before the symposium. Those who wish to hear these heartfelt tributes can view recordings of the conference at …
At this very sad time the family will hold a private, solemn funeral ceremony. At a later date we intend to hold a celebration of Dennis’s life and achievements to which all of his friends and former students will be invited.
Finally, in addition to his love of family and his passion for teaching mathematics, Dennis was also a lifelong dog owner and lover of dogs, and a firm supporter of social justice and welfare. In lieu of flowers, the family would suggest a donation in Dennis’s name either to your local Humane Society or to the Central City Concern, Portland Oregon (centralcityconcern.org), a charitable society known to Dennis that provides support and assistance to the underprivileged and those who could use a helping hand.
Hinchliff-Pearson-West Funeral and Cremation Service of Galesburg is honored to serve the family. Online condolences may be made on the funeral home’s website at www.h-p-w.com.
Update: April 12, 2025 from Mary Mangieri Burgland (Knox 1968)
During my senior year at Knox, I did an honors project with Dennis. There used to be a spring regional meeting of the MAA where undergrads could present their projects and research to get some professional practice. That April’s meeting was at Northern Illinois University in DeKalb, IL. At the time it was about a 2.5 hour drive from Galesburg. Dennis wanted me to go, and he wanted to go with me, so he drove (do I remember him having a Mustang?) and I rode along.
I knew Dennis was a Bob Dylan fan, so I brought a cassette I had just purchased (yeah, I’m old) of “Bob Dylan at Budokan”. I loved it. After about fifteen minutes of playing it in his car’s tape deck, he says, “Couldn’t you find any good versions of these songs?” I guess he didn’t like the live stuff.
About an hour into the ride, to spark conversation (I was likely staring at the cornfields as they went by), he turned to me and asked, “Do you think mathematics is discovered or created?”
I thought about it for a moment, and finally said, “I lean towards the side of it being discovered.”
He immediately turned and loudly said, “I can’t believe I’m giving a ride to a &*%%^#$ Platonist!” He then spent the next fifteen minutes telling me why I was wrong.
The conversation lulled again. After another while, he turned to me and asked, “Do you believe in an afterlife?”
I thought about it for several moments, and carefully said something to the effect of, “I’m not sure what I would call it, but I believe something interesting happens after we die.”
Dennis immediately replied, “Even though there’s not a single shred of ^%^*#@ evidence to support it?!” He then spent the next fifteen minutes telling me why I was wrong.
I sat in rather stunned silence as we entered DeKalb. He drove right past the university to the city’s downtown, and parked in the street outside of a bar he liked because they had his favorite beer on tap (I think it was St. Pauli Girl dark). He stopped his car, turned to me and said, “Well, I think somebody owes me a couple of beers.”
Update April 23, 2025 from Roy Andersen (Knox Professor of Economics, Emeritus)
COMMENTS ON DENNY
I write this as a half-century friend and colleague of Dennis Schneider from a perspective outside the mathematics community.
Arguably two of the most forceful members of the Knox mathematics department of the last century were Dennis Schneider and Rothwell Stephens. They shared two major motivators of their careers: a love of Mathematics and a desire to have the Knox mathematics department be the best it could be.
The methods through which they sought to have a steady stream of high student outcomes shared points of commonality and difference.
Rothwell joined the Knox faculty during the depression-ravaged 1930’s (and after a stint at the Institute of Advanced Studies). At Knox, he developed a strong association with the Illinois branch of the major math association for High School teachers. The message to them was clear: Their best students should consider Knox. Once they were here, he demanded rigor. To paraphrase Keith Maskus, when seeking an explanation from Rothwell after receiving a less than exemplary score on his first (first year) exam heard the proposed remedy delivered in a soft yet steely voice: “Perhaps you would consider studying?”
When Denny was asked the same question his response was more likely “Why not go back to High School?” If he thought the student had a thick enough skin, this gruff response was peppered with an expletive.
The same goal with a markedly different style of delivery,
That hard-nosed approach was mediated by a demonstrated real care for students. For instance, when he was teaching at the U. of Chicago for a year, a faculty member there asked him why he spent so much time giving nightly tutorials to students since it took so much time from wrestling with pure math research problems. Denny was a teacher and insisted that his students deserved his best. No thanks to the advise. Ditto with his students at Knox.
This effort to “spread the word” went in other directions; to a student with math disability to meet the Knox graduation requirement through the teaching of a History of Mathematics course, to being selected to teach a six-county multi -month course to bright sixth graders. The word was also spread through his multi-edition Linear Algebra text, to the introduction of the notoriously difficult Mathematica.
And he served on most college-wide committees as well as struggling with the introduction of C.S. among other feather-ruffling Math matters.
Finally, he was always there. A good friend of mine and many others.
Update April 24, 2025 from Mark Williams (Knox, 1977)
Dennis often spoke about his upbringing in Detroit, and how he got off to a rough start – hanging out on street corners, getting in fights, racing cars on local roads, doing “hoodlum” type stuff as he’d say. The influence of his older brother Bruce helped him to change course. When Bruce was a student at the University of Michigan, he invited Dennis to visit him one weekend. This was a turning point; Dennis said he was quite impressed by the “intellectual conversations” he heard going on among students he ran into. Soon after this he started to get more serious about his schoolwork, and before too long he was also a student at Michigan.
Back in the 1970s, my era at Knox, if you were taking a class from Dennis and said something that showed a lack of understanding of a point Dennis expected you to know well by now, and which you really should have known well by now – get ready to duck because an eraser or piece of chalk might be headed your way. As far as I could tell, no one thought twice about this, just another example of Dennis being lively and exuberant, part of why he was so fun to be around.
Some of my favorite memories are of the times when a few of us math majors (Jim Burke, Mike Zielinski, Bill Reinke, Kevin Hastings) would have beers or maybe beers and pizza with Dennis at Alfano’s or a local bar. We might be joined by another faculty member, maybe Ron Hourston or Manfred Steeg. This was a chance to discuss serious but fun topics like whether mathematics is discovered or created, can we believe in the existence of mathematical objects that we can’t construct, is it dangerous to assume that we can form a set by choosing one element from each of infinitely many nonempty sets (the Axiom of Choice),….
At these gatherings there was no shying away from political or religious topics. We would challenge each other to own up to our beliefs and to support them with good arguments. If your beliefs were not based on solid evidence or reasoning, someone in the group, often Dennis, would point that out and invite you to do better!
Update April 25, 2025 from Kevin Hastings (Knox, 1976)
Update May 2, 2025 from Tomomi Sunayama (Knox 2009)
Dear Prof. Schneider,
Thank you for your guidance and dedication in teaching Mathematics at Knox College, especially linear algebra. Although math didn’t come easily to me, I’m truly grateful for the patience and encouragement you showed throughout your courses. Knox is a close-knit community where conversations tend to circulate quickly, and during my time there, I sometimes struggled with feeling discouraged by things I heard. That’s why I especially appreciate the respect and kindness you always showed me—your support made a real difference in my experience, and I’m sincerely thankful for that.
Update May 4, 2025 from Rob Schneider
Over the months since my father left us, I’ve returned countless times to this piece – writing, editing, adding, and removing parts. Yet, no words have ever fully captured what my father truly meant to me, nor how deeply grateful I am for his presence in my life. Perhaps the word for something beyond words is “ineffable,” but even that feels too simple for a man who was anything but ordinary.
I cannot think of another person who has inspired me to embody the qualities I saw in him more than my own dad. Every day, I honor my father’s memory through my work, my values, and the way I show up for others. I carry him in laughter and love, and in the wisdom and dark humor of his iconic sayings – many of which have become seamlessly integrated into my own vocabulary. Often, in difficult moments, I find myself wondering what he would do, and inevitably, I follow the example I imagine he’d set.
My dad was intelligent, kind, brave, and unwaveringly consistent. He was articulate and deeply principled, a man who stood firmly in his values. There was never uncertainty about his stance or how he would respond – his clarity and integrity were constants in a world that frequently felt unpredictable to me. As a teacher, he did far more than educate; he guided, challenged, and believed in people. He championed the underdog and carried a no-nonsense attitude – not harsh or punitive, but honest, encouraging, and supportive. If you were serious, he was too. “We’ll get through it together,” he’d say, and that spirit informs how I support my clients today.
He wasn’t religious, quite the opposite, in fact. Firmly grounded in science, he was outspoken in his distaste for organized religion. Yet, his spirit feels very much alive to me. I don’t imagine him looking down in judgment for my choice to honor him privately. Instead, I choose to honor him authentically – with solemn honesty, intention, while maintaining my own peace and privacy. I believe he’d be proud of that.
I deeply miss our weekly phone calls, discussing everything from family and work to nature, politics, and, of course, our dogs, especially our dogs. In these uncertain times of socio-political unrest and strife, I often find myself wishing we could discuss the impacts on his students, on the marginalized communities I serve, and on our own lives. I can almost hear him swearing now – and believe me, Dad, I’m swearing right alongside you. I’m swearing loudly.
I still remember his smell, that welcoming and comforting “Dad smell” that greeted me when he first brought me home from the adoption center nearly 45 years ago. That scent continues to comfort me today whenever I take one of his trademark LL Bean flannels from my closet and breathe in his memory.
I’m so grateful for how warmly he welcomed my wife into the Schneider family. Though their visits were few, he made her feel genuinely part of us, something that meant the world to both of us. She misses him deeply too and we often smile together when I do something that reminds us of something my dad would say or do.
Reflecting on our years together, I’m profoundly grateful for the growth we both experienced – how I transformed from the black sheep into someone he trusted enough to seek advice from. I’m thankful he got to witness this version of me, just as I am grateful to have witnessed his own evolution over the years. My hope is to continue evolving as gracefully as he did.
Thank you, Dad – for your love, your wisdom, your grit, and your guidance. You are with me every day, reflected in my actions, in the lives I touch, and in strength I strive to embody. This isn’t a goodbye; it’s a thank you, a promise, and a celebration of a truly inspiring man who lived a life well-lived and deeply loved.
P.S. Shortly after you passed, we added a new puppy to our family and named him Denny in your memory. At first, we questioned our choice—he’s a bit dim for an Aussie – but then we noticed his stubborn streak, and now we see how perfectly the name fits.
Update May 5, 2025: videos of speeches given at the service.
The cameraman apologizes for a few lapses in video quality!