What surprises me about the recent revelations is that no stories have yet come out about horny or nymphomaniac nuns running rampant in the schools in which young boys are entrusted to their care and education. In my mind this is no doubt a common occurrence because repression of sexual impulses leads to the worst kind of depravity. One reason that no complaints have yet surfaced is that perhaps boys who have been molested by nuns enjoyed it and treasured it as their first sexual experience.
Here is a true story of something I personally witnessed in 1949 when I was 13 years old.
At that time I was a seventh-grade student at St. Thomas the Apostle Parochial School in Los Angeles near Pico and Normandy. There was a nun teaching there whose name was Sister Margeret Irene. She must have been in her late 20s or early 30s (it was hard to tell with that black and white habit she wore). Even at my age, I sensed something unusual about her, but I didn't really give it much thought. It was a co-ed class consisting of about 20 students. Sister Margaret Irene seemed to have a thing about one of the students, a Chicano boy named Eladio who one might describe as "cute". He was very short for his age. He apparently had a hormonal problem and wasn't growing as he should have. As a result, he appeared very much like a child. However, he was quite charming and popular among the other students. His greatest admirer, though, was Sister Margaret Irene. She had him sitting right up in the front row, just inches away from her desk. Everyone knew he was the "teacher's pet", but no one was aware of how close a relationship they had, until . . . .
One day after class, a group of us were playing basketball in the playground. I had left my sweater in the classroom and about 3:30 went back to get it with my friend Johnny. When we walked into the room we witnessed an incredible sight: there in the corner of the room, just a bit out of sight of the entrance was Sister Margaret Irene giving Eladio a blow job. Both Johnny and I caught them in the act, but, since Johnny was standing to the side and instinctively jumped back outside the room, she believed that I was the only witness. She came up with some lame excuse that she was cleaning a spot off his pants. but I just grabbed my sweater and got out of the room as fast as I could.
Johnny and I were shocked. We couldn't believe what we had just witnessed. We told Leonard, one of our classmates, but he didn't believe us. In fact, he got quite angry that we would tell a story like that about a nun and threatened to beat us up, so Johnny and I decided not to tell anyone else about it. After that, Eladio avoided me for the rest of our careers at St. Thomas and I became Sister Margaret Irene's most hated student.
In the next installment I will tell about my confession to Father Hurley.