Leadership interview with Stephen Beatty, Royal St. George's College

Our mission statement speaks about ‘the best version of himself’ — the best version of each individual. We’re always in pursuit of that, and I always say ‘let’s hope we never get there’. If anybody ever tells you you’ve hit your best version, stop listening to them. That’s the business that we are in, as schools, and it’s certainly Royal St. George’s College’s business — getting better.

When I started working at Royal St. George’s, many facility upgrades were going on. We’ve got a small footprint — so how do we make sure that the bulk of the footprint is being used to make the student experience better? We were able to build a beautiful campus that includes cutting-edge learning spaces, while retaining the history and charm of the place. We didn’t relocate out to the suburbs; we stayed right here on the subway line. And we maintained a big aspect of what makes us unique: Royal St. George’s College is a downtown school

It’s not a big campus here, so every morning I try to stick my head into every classroom if I can, just for a good morning and to say ‘Hi’, and usually some bad jokes along the way. I’ll spot a kid who has just had a haircut or a kid that you knew was away yesterday. I always make note of whose birthday it is every day, so I can particularly embarrass them in the morning. I think I can probably make legitimate ‘Hi, how are you?’ contact with 70% of the kids almost every day. It’s not a big population. I know every kid’s name and most of their parent’s names. If you do this long enough, you watch them grow up.

We’ve got really three entry points for admission into the school. We admit students in Grade 3, which is an odd time to start, but it dates back to a time when a number of the major girls’ schools all took boys up until Grade 3. It’s also related to our space restrictions. That Grade 3 class will remain a class of 12-15 kids right through to Grade 6. Our next entry point, into middle school, is Grade 7. At that point they kids are exposed to a wider variety of subject-specific teachers, as opposed to a homeroom model. And the third and final entry point is Grade 9, to start high school.

Staff turnover here is infinitesimal. There is a great degree of satisfaction with working at Royal St. George’s College. This is a nice place to work, and that is not about salaries, benefits, lunch, parking allowance — it’s about the kids that come here. And it is about the families that choose this school. I think my colleagues understand: it is such a privilege to work with these kids and these families.

At Royal St. George’s College, the best artist in the class is a boy, the best singer in the class is a boy, and the best trumpet player is a boy. We have a thriving sewing and knitting club, and it’s all boys in there. We have a thriving vocal music program — I compare that to when I ran a co-ed school and I could not get boys to join the choir. At our school, it’s cool to be in the choir — it’s cool to pursue anything. I think there is a real opportunity at Royal St. George’s for boys to shine and be the best version of themselves, because we’ve removed any need to fulfill or follow some gender stereotype that society has put on them.

My dry cleaning is done by our Entrepreneurship Club, because they arranged it with a local dry cleaner. They told them, ‘You know what? We’ve got 100 adults who work here who all have dry cleaning needs. What if we give you one central place to pick up their cleaning and drop it back off?’ The Entrepreneurship Club arranges all that, they take a cut, and the dry cleaners love it, because they get one place to pick up 100 clients in one go. And it’s not a profit for the students: they’re not allowed to make money coming to school. Their prime ambition is to make sure the next people leading the club are well set-up. To me this represents academic excellence, but grounded with such humility and such a commitment to service — giving back what they felt was given to him.

I love hearing the stories that Royal St. George’s kids tell about their teachers. They are stories told with love. They are stories of kids who understand and appreciate what they were given in their relationship with teachers. They understand ‘I was given something special here, and I want to give it back and I want to make sure that the kid in Grade 3 right now has the same opportunities and experience that I had going through.’

It’s a small-school thing: there is such an esprit de corps about ‘being a Georgian’. With the alumni, there’s a hope to be able to give to the current students what was given to me. Especially with my young guys currently at university, there is always a great reach-back to the Grade 11s and 12s. Early in the Grade 12 year, we’ll have alumni who are currently at university come back to talk to current students, and we’ll do it in a room without adults so they can really talk about their experiences.

When I started here, we had five or six ‘Legacy’ kids, and now we have about 25. These are students whose dads went here, and in many cases, I grew up with their dads. I think it’s a small-school thing. It’s certainly been an evolution in terms of the number of people, among our small population of alumni, who are bringing us their sons.

When we have our alumni dinners, everybody loves being back on campus. It’s hard to find anyone who didn’t love their experience here, certainly in the last 30 years. There’s really high engagement. Does it turn into big fundraising? No, but that’s not really what we’re after anyways. It’s about staying engaged, helping out — when you’re at university, reaching out to the students still in high school — and if you can, bring me your son.

We have a beautiful urban gem of a campus here, and we have endeavoured to make every square-foot of it something that really benefits the guys, really benefits the boys.

We sell academic excellence. We sell relationships. We sell character. And ‘character’ is in those relationships. It is in the ‘every student is known and loved’ promise that we make. It is in the ‘you know what, I’m going to call you on your bad behaviour because I actually know you’ve been taught better than that.’ Families that eschew the prestige, the long history, the busts of the founders in the spacious, oak-lined founders’ hall, for Royal St. George’s — they have a family priority of values, of character, of love, of fun, of laughter, of joy, and of challenge.

We put a great currency on the ‘good guy’ factor here. We want to be the guys who are treating people with respect, treating girls with respect to the utmost at social events, staying behind and cleaning up afterwards, meeting Mom and Dad at the door and shaking hands with them. I get these amazing young men coming here, and they draw in more amazing young men.

Our culture is based on this idea of ‘every student is known and loved’. I think in some cases it’s the underdog culture. Our teams don’t do particularly well, for example. We do sometimes, but generally we’re outgunned. If you play rep-league hockey, or if you play house-league hockey at the local arena, you’re going to make my hockey team. At most of the other boys’ schools, you’d better be playing Triple-A hockey or you’re not making the hockey team. The humility that comes with that, the esprit de corps that comes with that, brings a real sense of taking care of each other.

There’s a pride that comes from the sense of belonging that you get in a small school. It comes from students being ‘known and loved’ for everything that’s quirky about them, as well as everything they shine brightest at. For boys especially, there’s a sense of belonging in being open to ‘being known’, and getting rid of the mask of hardcore masculinity and those social expectations. Being vulnerable enough to be known. Students find a sense of belonging in that, and they understand it as something special, and something different.

We use the word ‘Georgian’ around here a lot, of saying ‘that’s Georgian’. When this Grade 12 kid quietly does the lighting for the junior school play without making a big deal about it — that’s Georgian. We struggle to define ‘Georgian’, but it underpins our culture. It is the vulnerability, the belonging, the taking care of each other. It’s a special place.

There is a built-in humility factor to eschewing one of the other bigger, more established, more prestigious independent schools in the city and bringing your kid here. There is with that an understanding of where your values are as a parent. Parents typically are absolutely aligned with what we’re trying to do with the kids here, so there is a real partnership with them.

What we have is a parent body whose values are aligned with exactly what we do. They want their kid to be ‘known and loved’. They want him to be challenged and inspired. They want him to be the best version of himself. They understand that we’re all engaged in that same pursuit.

The relationships are a big part of the reason why families stay here. We know each other. There’s 447 kids. My high school teachers will teach multiple grades, so they’ll get the same parents over and over at parent-teacher interviews. I had a dad say to me recently, that in their parent-teacher interview ‘All we talked about was the Leafs, because I already knew what they thought of my kid and how my kid was doing’. That dad had been getting feedback all along, so by the time they got to that meeting, they just wanted to talk about the Leafs’ chances.

Our guys who have been here understand that the school culture is not an ultra-masculine bullying culture — it is very much the opposite. It is an open, belonging culture.

Right in our values at the school, we say three words that I’m not sure a lot of other places do: one is ‘Love’, one is ‘Joy’, and one is ‘Laughter’. We also speak of excellence and challenge. The personality of our school is that of a person with a great sense of humour. We like to say ‘take your work seriously, don’t take yourself seriously’. Along with that humility, it’s about kindnesses and good deeds that need not be seen or ever repaid. It’s a person that holds themself to a really high standard, who understands it’s the person in the mirror that you’re ultimately responsible to.