Kevin Browne
Brother John was my home room teacher and Algebra teacher my freshman year at Rummel high school in 84-85. I won the Silver Card the first three quarters of that year, meaning I’d achieved the 2nd highest average in the class. I’d never been very good at math before that, and I was incredibly proud of myself for my accomplishments that year. In my 4th quarter I got mononucleosis, a minor illness for most teenagers, but I got the worst case Mercy Hospital in New Orleans had ever seen, or so they told me. I went from being 160 pounds to 109 in 3 months. I had to have blood work done 3 times a week all that period, and when I returned to school I looked like a concentration camp victim. All my other teachers were sympathetic of my situation, but Brother John looked me straight in the eye and told me, “I heard this story that you were sick. I don’t believe it for a second. You’re on drugs, and there’s nothing you can do to pass my class.” I know now that, that was the moment I lost my religion, my faith in teachers, the Catholic Church and felt so completely betrayed and alone. I hope that he is suffering wherever he is. He was a horrible human being and teacher.