On Wednesday, August 23, Fenway learned that Abbie Schirmer had died suddenly that morning of a pulmonary embolism. She expected to be in school a couple of days later, opening her math classroom and preparing for her role as a mentor teacher and student government advisor. No doubt she would have brought a cart of plants from her garden to line her windowsills and share with colleagues. She was known for her generosity. "I have something for you," she'd say, "You must come with me." The gift would be a plant or a piece of jewelry, toys for your children, sweaters for your students, something you would want, that suited you.

Ms. Schirmer had been with Fenway since it was founded in 1982. "She was Fenway," one faculty member recalled. "When I started twelve years ago, the school was going through a lot of changes. Abbie was always there. She was one of the pillars."

The next week, the faculty gathered in the library to start the new school year. The question for school leadership was, how do we go forward with enthusiasm when we have lost such a beloved and central person in our Fenway community? On a personal level, everyone would grieve in their own way. As a school, it was important to recognize grief and shock-among students as well as staff-without letting it overwhelm the community.

Peggy Kemp, Head of School, set the tone in that first faculty meeting. She spoke of how painful it was to open the school year without Ms. Schirmer, and she described different ways she had connected with her, not the least being the struggle, galvanized by Ms. Schirmer, to prevent the deportation of Obain Attouoman. Ms. Kemp ended by saying Ms. Schirmer "gave to Fenway for over 20 years; she shaped who we are. I will think of her at my side; I will think, what would Abbie say?"

Other faculty spoke as the spirit moved them. With different stories about how Ms. Schirmer had inspired and touched them, each person echoed the shared respect for her knowledge, her commitment to social justice, and her warmth. Most of the remembrances ended with a resolve for the future. "I hope," said one, "that every day I walk into this building, I am going to appreciate being here. That is how I am going to honor Abbie."

Others said, "She always noticed things and took the time to tell you. She would pull you aside and say something that would light up your whole day. That's what I'll take from her, remember to do that."

What do I most admire about her? She was always trying to get better as a teacher.. .1 will continue to better myself in my practice."

"She will be in my head this year as I do any work. Abbie would say, 'I just see incredible potential in this class.' Her positivity is so important. There really is this incredible potential."

"Her memory makes us come here, work harder, be stronger for our students."

During the rest of the week, much thought went into how Fenway would share the news with students during the Opening Assembly. A number of students and some alumni called in as soon as they heard the news and asked what they could do. Several came to school a day early to form a "Ms. Schirmer committee." They mounted a display of photographs and text on the front bulletin board and prepared remarks for the Opening Assembly. The room, filled to capacity with 300 students and 35 staff and teaching interns, was silent, listening. "I'm going to try not to cry," one of the students at the microphone said. Singly and together they expressed what it meant to have a wonderful teacher. "For all who don't know Ms. Schirmer,  she was a loving and caring teacher and  friend.... I can't remember, not one time, where she was not there for me or took time out of her time to talk to me... She has taught me so much about life and math..."

In student government, she attentively listened to our ideas and tried her best to give us advice on how we could make them come true. Never did she immediately erase a proposal. She let us work at it and find for ourselves whether or not the proposed idea was possible and if it was, she would do everything she could to help us."

"I will not forget our last conversation. It was just before summer vacation.  I rushed in her room looking for [another teacher], not even thinking about her. But we began chitchatting. She said, 'Nilda, I watched you grow from a little freshman to a young lady, and I am proud of you.' She encouraged me to continue to do well and never give up. Those words will remain with me forever."

Click here to view the above video clip of Emily Melo and Zakiyyah Sutton (students of Boston Arts Academy) singing "Amazing Grace".

Click here to view  Peggy Kemp's speech at Abbie's memorial.  Peggy Kemp is  the principle of Fenway High School.

Memorial, Abbie Schirmer   by Linda Nathan ( principle of Boston Arts Academy)

I feel blessed to have known Abbie for almost three decades.

I wanted to wear something beautiful and flowing today because that is always the way I thought about Abbie. She was beautiful and flowing.I loved her smile of happiness after An gave her a wonderful haircut.

I loved talking to her about our respective gardens. She always shared her rose of Sharon cuttings or ginger or bee balm which unfortunately used to take over our gardens!

I loved sharing motherhood with her. Liem arrived at about the same time as my oldest son and we had such a good time visiting Tot Lot together. Liem was an acrobat even at age 2 yr! He toddled in and went right up the monkey bars! Lan arrived about the same time as my second child and again we shared Tot Lot. We were parents there for what seemed like an eternity. And then when my daughter arrived we referred to her as “little Abbie” to differentiate from “big Abbie.”

When Abbie and I first met we were involved in teacher union organizing together. We managed to convince our teacher union to send funds to support the Salvadoran teachers’ union during the war years there. Abbie taught me that our jobs as teachers go way beyond our own classrooms and that we need to be aware of injustice everywhere. She taught me that teaching meant acting with a social conscience.

Abbie was an extraordinary teacher.  I was so pleased when we both ended up teaching at Fenway.  I’ll never forget when Abbie taught Denise, a young woman in a wheelchair who could not verbalize, to speak with a computer. Denise’s first word was “Mom.” I don’t know who was more joyful, Denise’s mom at realizing that her daughter could now communicate with new technology or Abbie! Abbie had a way of helping even the most unreachable students find their gifts. Steve was a student who didn’t do much in anyone’s class. He wasn’t so interested in school. One day, I came back into the office that I shared with Larry and saw Steve scaling walls on a ladder with wires hanging everywhere. “What are you doing?” I asked aghast. “Ms Schirmer needs to be able to use the computers and the wiring wasn’t working! We decided I would get everything working for my math credit.” And sure enough, Steve did get everything working. And he did pass math. And Ms. Schirmer could be the first teacher in the district to pilot an amazing conflict resolution software. Steve then ran the lab for her.

I remember her belief in Dulci, in Kevin, Tanya, Yolanda, Rocky, Paris, Wakeitha, Sara, Charlene, Margarita, Mark, Susan, Lisa and Annie, too. So many of these young people are now contributing to our city, to their families, and living fulfilling lives. Abbie always believed in everyone. And she was always available to each and everyone of her students.

Today we are here to remember Abbie—our mother, our sister, our wife, our daughter, our teacher, our colleague, our comrade, our friend.  She would love this gathering. She is here amongst us...

Linda Nathan, September 30, 2006

5 Minutes   by Lan Nguyen ( Abbie's daughter)

         If I had just five minutes to spend with my mom, I'd tell her how beautiful she is.  I'd tell her that seeing her smile always made me smile, whether she could see it or not.  I'd tell her that even though we had bad arguments, I never wanted to stay angry.  I'd tell my mother how I sometimes wore her shirts, and how I secretly wanted to wear some of her jewelry, especially her wedding ring.  I'd tell my mom that I appreciated all of the times she would call my school saying I was sick, even though I wasn't.  I'd tell her that I loved seeing her name and number show up on my caller ID even though I would constantly complain about my minutes.  I would tell my mother how I wanted to dye my hair with henna after I saw her doing it first.  I would tell her that I always would purposely save the best news for last, hoping that she would be proud of me.  I would say that I loved the fact that she met with all my teachers at school, even though I knew it was hard for her to go because of her job. 

         I would thank her for always picking me up, no matter what time or where.  I would thank my mom for bailing me out of tough situations.  I would thank my mother for worrying about me, even though it stressed her out.  I would thank her for introducing me to Starbucks, and for always getting me a giftcard there.  I would thank her for running special errands for me, and bringing home food for me, even though it was out of her way.  I would thank her for meeting my friends and asking about my business, even if I didn't always want to talk.  I would thank my mother for giving me little gifts and lending me money, even though it always took me forever to pay her back.

          If I had five minutes with my mom, I would tell her that I cleaned my closet, and that I was working on cleaning my room.  I'd tell my mom that I wear the ring she gave me everyday.  I would tell my mother that I was doing great at work.  I would tell my mom that she has a lot of friends and family who care about her.  I would tell her how lucky she was to find someone like dad.  I would tell her that the pond was finished and that it looked great.  I would tell her that I think about her all the time.  And I would tell her how much I miss her.  I would tell her how happy I am that she gets to be with her mom and dad again.  I would tell her that I'm still in school and doing my very best work.  I would tell my mother that even the littlest thing reminds me of how much she meant to me.  I'd tell her how I loved when she tucked me in at night.  I would tell her how grateful I was when she would take time out to talk to me, even though we both had school the next day, and even though she was tired.  I would tell her that I appreciated her buying me Monopoly and playing with me, when nobody else would.  I would tell her how much fun I had when we would buy gifts for dad, and how much fun I had when we took car trips together.  I would tell her how great it was to go to the wedding reception with her, even though it was in the middle of nowhere and I listened to music the whole way up.  I would tell my mom how fun it was to go to her school.  I would tell my mom how great it was that I switched guidance counselors.  I would tell my mom that I was going to visit UMASS Amherst just for her.  I would tell my mother that I felt bad for making fun of her stick bugs.  I would tell my mother that I wanted to go out to lunch with her and that I wanted to spend Christmas with her.  I would tell her that I wished she was still here and that I missed her like crazy.  I would tell my mother how sad, upset, confused, and lost I felt.  I would tell her that every night I think about her before I go to sleep.  I would tell her that I finally did my own laundry.  I would tell her how I'd miss her at my wedding or when I had children.  I would tell her how nice and caring she was.  I would tell her that I wished she could have seen me on the first day of school.  I would tell her that I was doing gymnastics again.

          If I had just five minutes, I would tell my mother everything I could think of.  I would thank her for looking out for my family, friends, and I.  If I had just five minutes with her, I would tell her that I couldn't explain how much I love her.  I would tell her that I'd need more than five minutes if I even wanted to start trying to explain to her how much I love her.  I would tell her that I understand that everything happens for a reason, and that there must be a pretty huge reason that she had to move on.  I would tell her that I was glad that she would be there waiting for me, when my time came.  I would tell her how I wished that we had more time with each other and how grateful I was that she picked me as her daughter.  I would tell her that I would give anything to have more time with her or if I could bring her back, I would.  I would show her the locket I had made, at the store that she introduced me to. 

 If I had just five minutes I would tell my mom all of things I love about her.  But the truth is, five minutes isn't enough time.  The truth is, I can't have five minutes with her.  The truth is, my mom knows everything I have to say to her.  She knows all of my feelings, and she knows everything I thought, but didn't say aloud.  The truth is that no matter how lonely I feel without her, she is still in my heart making sure that I am okay.  The truth is that she aleady knows that I love her.  The truth is, even if I had five minutes to spend with my mom, she's still smiling no matter how many minutes I have.  The truth is that a mother never really leaves her daughter and that she will stay alive in my heart forever.  So saying that, I think I'll pass on the five minutes and just know in my heart that my mom loves me and that I love her back.                                                                                     

Click here to view the above video.  Eileen and Bernadette (teachers of Fenway High School) were reading their poem at Abbie's memorial.

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Abbbie's Memorial by Obain Attouoman (teacher of Fenway High School)

     I have been in this country for 14 years without a family.  Abbie gave me a family.  She brought me to her family who instantly adopted me.  That officially makes me the last Schirmer.

I did not know that I would be back here in this same room so shortly after I last left it. I never liked coming here because every time I did it was to say farewell to some of the greatest human beings I have ever known.  I am here again today to celebrate the life of a great woman, a great friend, a great teacher, a sister, an eager learner, a human being whose generosity and selflessness knew no boundaries.  She was generous with her time, her resources and was the only person I have known who would walk around constantly thinking about other people’s needs.  She gave and never expected anything in return. Every person who ever knew Abbie received a token of her love in the form of a mere pencil, a shirt she bought at a yard sale, a shirt she found on Craig’s list or in my case, a toaster someone had thrown away and a plant she knew would not die that easily.  She always collected things she did not personally because she knew someone else needed them.   She drew her happiness from helping other people attain happiness their.

 If all the people, known and unknown who fought relentlessly to save me from deportation two years ago, Abbie was one of the most instrumental.  She was the quiet but obstinate force and inspiration behind the movement that not only culminated into a landmark civic victory for urban high school students but also saved my life.   I Would have never made it through the three months I spent in detention without her comforting and encouraging words and her frequent visits with Audrey despite the humiliation and the demeaning reception she endured from correction officers.  Abbie once had to borrow a sweatshirt or shirt from someone because they would not allow her in with the clothes she had on.  He never allowed me to give up even when things seemed hopeless.  She had already thought of alternative plans in case all the efforts and protest of the school community were fruitless.  But those plans are still classified and forgive me if do not share them with you for national security reasons.

         Abbie was on a mission to make the world better and people around her happier.  She did not have much but gave incessantly to those who were lucky enough to be around her and even those whose existence she only suspected.  She was as concerned with the plight and welfare of the deprived children of Africa or India as she was of the daily adversities faced by inner city children of color. She dedicated her entire life to fighting oppression and injustice.  She labored tirelessly either in the classroom or through political action to turn into reality her vision of the world; a world devoid of greed, violence or any other source of human misery or degradation.  A world free of racism, classism, imperialism, sexism or all the other forms of institutionalized subjugation or subordination of certain groups of human beings by others. She had a vision the world grounded in hope, respect for differences, equality.  And she lived by those principles.

          Abbie loved and respected everyone with the same intensity regardless of age, cultural or racial origin or social class.  She was the only person I have ever met who never judged anyone.  Her relationship with students was based on mutual respect.  They trusted her because they knew she genuinely believed in their ability to succeed.  She did not mind staying for hours after school to provide her students with the support and help they needed.  I cannot word it any better than the students just did in their own words and I will not even try.        

 Now she is gone. I know she did not want to leave us the way she did without taking the time to say good bye and making sure we were OK. I know my life and the lives of all those who knew or came in contact with her will never  be the same without her.  Our school will never be the same without her.  Her legacy, however, will remain a source of pride and inspiration for upcoming generations.

Obain Attouoman

   For Abby by Sarah Rosencrantz

         Click on this to view the above video.