A Professor Was More Than Her Cause of Death

Last year, I sent an e-mail to a college mentor, thanking her for believing in me before I believed in myself.

I wrote it after someone asked me, "When did you think your opinion mattered?"

That moment came early in my sophomore year at Kent State University, when my political science professor asked to speak to me after my debut participation in one of her robust class discussions.

She was smart and quick-witted, and I feared her as much as I admired her. That day after class, I was so anxious that I could feel the red flush creep up my neck and set my cheeks on fire before she said a word.

"How old are you?" she asked. When I told her I was 20, she smiled. "You should speak up more in class," she told me. "You have something to say."

I can quote her exact words because I wrote them down on an index card and posted it over my desk for the rest of my college career. I don't remember the name of the political theory class — it was the first of three I took from her — but I never will forget hers: Trudy Steuernagel.

To me, she was always Dr. Steuernagel, the woman who paced in long, flowing skirts and telegraphed a relentless urgency about her students' intellectual lives.

"Well, let's think about that," she'd say, over and over. "What does that really mean?"

Most Ohioans — and political science professors across the country — likely know the name Trudy Steuernagel because of her violent death, which was first reported in The Plain Dealer (where I work) in January and then chronicled in heartbreaking detail last Sunday by reporter Joanna Connors, in a story titled "Sheltering Sky."

The "Sky" in that headline is Steuernagel's autistic teenage son, a violent and troubled young man who killed the mother who repeatedly tried to save him.

In an undated letter found in a safe after her death, Steuernagel made clear that she knew her life could end this way:

"If this letter has been opened and is read, it is because I have been seriously injured or killed by my son, Sky Walker.

As Connors reported, two psychologists involved in the case told the court that Sky was not competent to stand trial and never would be. A judge listened to the evidence and ruled that Sky had killed his mother. Sky now resides in a locked facility, where he likely will remain for the rest of his life.

There will be much debate over whether Sky's escalating violence represents the fate of many children with autism as they mature. It is an important discussion that could bring changes in treatment for countless autistic children, and I urge those who haven't read this story yet to do so online, at http://tinyurl.com/yg7x235.

Steuernagel was a mother who would not give up on her child, no matter how much her love put her at risk. I caught only a glimpse of her situation in 2008, after I sent that e-mail thanking her for inspiring me all those years ago.

Her response was jarring. She appreciated hearing that she had made a difference in my life, especially at a time when she was so immersed in trying to make any difference at all in the life of her son. I don't remember specifics (her e-mail is long gone), but I do recall thinking she sounded desperate — and scared — and she did not respond to my subsequent note.

She seemed so different from the professor who had emboldened me — and thousands of other students in more than 30 years of teaching.

That's why I'm writing this. Trudy Steuernagel was a mighty force in the lives of her students, including me. We entered her classroom feeling as anonymous as cattle. By the time she was done with us, we believed we could lead the herd.

That, too, is the story of Trudy Steuernagel.

Connie Schultz is a Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist for The Plain Dealer in Cleveland and the author of two books from Random House, "Life Happens" and "... and His Lovely Wife." She is a featured contributor in a recently released book by Bloomsbury, "The Speech: Race and Barack Obama's 'A More Perfect Union.'" To find out more about Connie Schultz (cschultz@plaind.com) and read her past columns, please visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.

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