
As part of a ongoing series about the lives lost to COVID-19, WNYC remembers a counselor at Careers In Sports High School in the Bronx.
Former students said Paula Pryce-Bremmer was the kind of educator who’d stop them in the hallway, ask how they’re doing, and really mean it. She’d stay in touch long after they graduated and keep their picture on the wall.
Former student Jesus Ventura said what made Bremmer so special was that she didn’t flinch when you dreamed big. "She said you know what, you can but it’s not going to be easy and this is how we’re going to do it," he said.
Ventura struggled academically, but his big dream was to help other students succeed and transform public education in the process. "I would tell her, 'Ms. Bremmer you have to clear up [your office] because I need a spot for my desk when I graduate," he said. That dream came true: In January he started working as a counselor at his old high school, just steps away from her.
Teacher Lonice Eversley was a colleague, writing partner and friend. She said Bremmer paved the way for students to become the first in their families to go to college. She helped them believe it was possible, then wove together grants and scholarships to make it happen like "magic." It’s a tradition at Careers in Sports for seniors to give roses to loved ones at graduation. Mostly, they went to relatives. But Bremmer always seemed to get them too.
"There were so many years she where she was the one getting the roses," she said.
Colleagues marveled at the stream of alumni who would show up just to say hi. And when her co-workers needed support through an emotional crisis, they'd turn to her..
Bremmer’s husband Orane said she was an academic cheerleader for her family, as well. She had four kids, and four masters degrees. She encouraged Orane to get his masters. He's working on it. She helped her older kids prepare for college, and her youngest make you tube videos. "Education was the key, the success, the high pinnacle of her life," he said.
Bremmer started feeling sick just as schools closed in March. One morning she had trouble breathing. They planned to go to the doctor, but she wanted to take a shower first. When Orane brought her a towel, she was sitting on the floor. He took her hand as she got up. "Right in my hands, as she came out of the tub... she was gone," he said. "Not a word, nothing. She was gone." She was 51.
Eversley said the suddenness of Bremmer's death, combined with the inability to come together to celebrate her life, makes the loss even more difficult to process. She said she's worried about going back to school, whenever that is, because Bremmer won’t be there. After all, Bremmer was the was the one you turned to in a crisis. "She centered the building," Eversley said. "We need her to deal with this."
Bremmer's youngest daughter Eden said students and colleagues should try to picture her mom the way she does. "A beautiful woman, clapping."