Written by BA Board Chairman Stew Davis '64 and printed in the 2009 Annual Report
Having demitted priesthood in favor of teaching, Mr. Drez was a man who possessed close to zero tolerance for the bitter cold of Wisconsin winters (which he had yet to actually experience at that time) and who suffered from an extremely severe case of dipterophobia that instantly transformed him into a totally non-functional human being by the mere presence of an ordinary house fly. No, the back door to the outside in the middle of the east wall close to the fly-infested woods was never left open “intentionally” by any of his students. Even so, on those (not so) rare occasions when an unsuspecting dipteran displayed the audacity to violate restricted airspace, it very quickly was perfunctorily obliterated by a lethal strike from a lightening swift swatter, wielded by the ever vigilant erstwhile cleric. Only after all unwelcome intruders had been eliminated could academic instructional activity be resumed in the Upper Form classroom of ABE. (In all fairness to Mr. Drez, at some point, I did come to understand the source of his peculiar dislike for nature’s two-winged pests - in the more tropical climate of New Orleans, flies were associated with disease and decay and were to be avoided and/or eliminated whenever possible.) 
Except for math (which he readily admitted he didn’t know) and French (which he did know and probably could have easily taught), Mr. Drez instructed all subjects in the Upper Form, including U.S. History, English, and of course, everyone’s favorite, Latin. Every day, we learned something new from Mr. Drez: how to diagram English sentences, how to conjugate Latin verbs and decline Latin nouns, as well as his thoughts on the reasons behind the “War of Northern Aggression,” as he called the American Civil War . 
My closest personal association with Mr. Drez occurred between my ages of 13 and 15 when I was a student in his classroom for two years before leaving in 1964 for high school elsewhere. (Brookfield Academy did not yet have an Upper School.) Mr. Drez continued teaching at ABE, then BA, for many years before retiring and returning to his beloved “Nawlins,” where he resided until his death several years ago. A memorial fund was established in his honor and memory and continues to provide scholarship support to worthy Brookfield Academy students.
Today, nearly five decades since my first encounter with Mr. Drez, I finally realize what an uncommon person he was. The longer I live, the more I appreciate what he did for me and for so many other Brookfield Academy students over the years. For my part, it may be too little too late, but “Here’s to you, Mr. Drez! You taught so many of us to appreciate, to aspire, and to accomplish. And for that, we will be eternally grateful.”
Dr. Solsrud’s selection of the theme for the 2008-09 school year presented the opportunity for me to reflect upon the nascent days of Brookfield Academy and inspired me to compose the following message:
When the Academy of Basic Education (ABE) opened its doors for the very first time to admit new students on September 10, 1962, yours truly, at the ripe “old” age of 13, was one of the lucky handful of “guinea pigs” who comprised the Upper Form (7th and 8th grades) of this recently launched experiment in independent education. Our classroom, as were all ABE classrooms, was located in the building we now call Founders Hall. In preparation for opening day, our small second-hand student desks along with the over-sized used desk of our teacher were neatly arranged in the easternmost room of the original Risney home— the very same room that now serves as the school’s business office (there was no interior partition wall in those days). 
Following the inaugural all-school assembly around the flagpole at the top of the hill, including recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance (“stand tall”) and the Academy Prayer (a near verbatim replica of the New York State Regents’ Prayer, which had been declared “unconstitutional” by the United States Supreme Court just a few years earlier), we were introduced to our teacher— the one and only, incomparable, avuncular Mr. J. Robert (“Bob”) Drez, who hailed from “Nawlins” (Louisiana) and who had been educated in the Jesuit tradition of the Roman Catholic Church.
Having demitted priesthood in favor of teaching, Mr. Drez was a man who possessed close to zero tolerance for the bitter cold of Wisconsin winters (which he had yet to actually experience at that time) and who suffered from an extremely severe case of dipterophobia that instantly transformed him into a totally non-functional human being by the mere presence of an ordinary house fly. No, the back door to the outside in the middle of the east wall close to the fly-infested woods was never left open “intentionally” by any of his students. Even so, on those (not so) rare occasions when an unsuspecting dipteran displayed the audacity to violate restricted airspace, it very quickly was perfunctorily obliterated by a lethal strike from a lightening swift swatter, wielded by the ever vigilant erstwhile cleric. Only after all unwelcome intruders had been eliminated could academic instructional activity be resumed in the Upper Form classroom of ABE. (In all fairness to Mr. Drez, at some point, I did come to understand the source of his peculiar dislike for nature’s two-winged pests - in the more tropical climate of New Orleans, flies were associated with disease and decay and were to be avoided and/or eliminated whenever possible.) Except for math (which he readily admitted he didn’t know) and French (which he did know and probably could have easily taught), Mr. Drez instructed all subjects in the Upper Form, including U.S. History, English, and of course, everyone’s favorite, Latin. Every day, we learned something new from Mr. Drez: how to diagram English sentences, how to conjugate Latin verbs and decline Latin nouns, as well as his thoughts on the reasons behind the “War of Northern Aggression,” as he called the American Civil War . My closest personal association with Mr. Drez occurred between my ages of 13 and 15 when I was a student in his classroom for two years before leaving in 1964 for high school elsewhere. (Brookfield Academy did not yet have an Upper School.) Mr. Drez continued teaching at ABE, then BA, for many years before retiring and returning to his beloved “Nawlins,” where he resided until his death several years ago. A memorial fund was established in his honor and memory and continues to provide scholarship support to worthy Brookfield Academy students.Today, nearly five decades since my first encounter with Mr. Drez, I finally realize what an uncommon person he was. The longer I live, the more I appreciate what he did for me and for so many other Brookfield Academy students over the years. For my part, it may be too little too late, but “Here’s to you, Mr. Drez! You taught so many of us to appreciate, to aspire, and to accomplish. And for that, we will be eternally grateful.”
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