When Les Frost took over as headmaster at St. Matthew’s Parish School in 1984, the Macintosh computer was cutting edge and kids were reading ‘To Kill A Mockingbird.’ This month upon his departure, kids were writing on iPads but still reading ‘To Kill A Mockingbird.’ For Frost, who retires next week after 27 years, his North Star continues to be his firm belief in the purpose of education: ‘Helping children develop good character, to think, problem-solve, love learning and finally to want to be lifelong learners,’ he says. That is not to say that that technology has left them behind; the eighth graders will be using iPads in the classroom next year, but the core principles remain. ‘It doesn’t do any good to teach them to read if they never go on to read a book,’ Frost says. Teaching had not been Frost’s early ambition. He held a doctorate in pharmacy, but realized he didn’t want to do research. His career choice changed right at home. ‘My wife [Marilyn] was a teacher and she was a great influence. She seemed to be so happy.’ Marilyn recently retired from Village School after teaching for 22 years. The couple has two children. Matthew is an engineer at JPL and Jenna works in administration at Oaks Christian School. Frost came to St. Matthew’s on a leap of faith. He had spent 12 years at Westlake as a science teacher and then four years as assistant head of school. And while he was a gifted teacher and effective administrator, he had never taught elementary school students and had never stepped foot inside an Episcopalian church. ’St. Matthew’s had a strong reputation for academics and character, and I hoped for the best,’ he says. ‘But I came in on a three-year plan.’ In the beginning, Frost made every effort to absorb the St. Matthew’s culture, while his clear enjoyment of teaching and nurturing kids was immediately discovered. Until two years ago, he taught human biology, stopping only because he knew he was going to be retiring. ‘It didn’t seem fair that teaching should be a requirement for being head of school,’ he says. Frost made it his goal to know every student by name; he attended every game and spent time in every classroom. He makes no excuses for his daily visits to classrooms. ‘I am a teaching addict,’ he admits. ‘I can’t go too long without being in the classroom.’ Perhaps certain verities define Frost’s effectiveness, whether the students are 5 or 15. ‘My style is collaborative; I relied absolutely on teamwork with the board, administrative staff and faculty, but with this proviso: I know I can be very clear about where I think this school ought to go and what we ought to do. I am willing to take full responsibility for leading in a new direction.’ But Frost has been adamant about not interfering with teachers teaching. ‘I love to give teachers the room they need to teach that is most effective. I hired good teachers and then got out of the way.’ The education world seems to be bifurcated in starker relief than ever. On the one hand, budget constraints and a host of social pressures have pressed public schools with greater intensity. On the other hand, elite private schools, while benefiting from financial support, struggle with preparing students for the ‘real’ world. Frost understands how easy it would be to revel in the idyll of St. Matthew’s 30-acre campus in Pacific Palisades. ’It would be really easy to block yourself out,’ he says. ‘But, as a professor at Harvard aptly described, schools are like a cell with a semi-permeable membrane. We shut out the bad, but always engage in the world. At St. Matthew’s we do this gently, but firmly and frequently’in the words we say and actions we show, and what we encourage them to do. Community service is part of the curriculum from kindergarten on up. We also do this through literature and history, reminding our students that there is a world that is very different from this world.’ But developing an understanding of the complexities of the world, developing empathy and an ability to help others, does not mean that the St. Matthew’s students should be worldly. In fact, one of Frost’s biggest challenges has been to ‘allow children to be the age they are’that an 8-year-old can be in the safety of an 8-year-old. These kids don’t need to be pressured to grow up too fast,’ says Frost, who is especially wary of the seduction of the digital world that he sees as sucking up valuable kid time. ‘No student can have a Facebook account, no cell phones in school. It’s all about not now. In part because it exposes them to things that they are not ready for, and also it’s a time for playing outside, doing ballet.’ Frost doesn’t worry that he is nurturing kids at the expense of preparing them for high school. ‘I don’t think it makes them younger than they need to be,’ he says. ‘It doesn’t mean that they will be socially inept when they go off to high school.’ When Frost arrived at St. Matthew’s, nearly half the graduating class would leave after 6th grade, matriculating at Harvard, Marlborough or other 7-12 schools. Having come from Westlake, ‘where the seventh and eighth graders were treated like young children, I was certain that there is no better gift you can give than to allow them to be on top of something. Here, they are the leaders, they need to grow up and show the maturity of leadership. They are truly the role models and leaders of the school.’ The strategy has been successful. Ninety percent of the students stay through eighth grade, and more and more schools are looking for good ninth graders and are holding spots for them. Former students often come back to St. Matthew’s and tell Frost that their grammar school experience was as important as any, but this doesn’t always translate into contributing to the school’s ongoing financial support. Just coming off a nine-month endowment campaign, which raised an impressive $6.6 million, Frost is grateful for the generous support from parents and grandparents. ‘But, it’s hard to raise money among alumni and past parents. After all, our little office is trying to compete with Stanford and Harvard, which have entire buildings dedicated to alumni support.’ Now that Frost, 68, has traded a walk across the driveway to his office for a home in Rancho Park, and a 70-hour workweek for limitless free time, he’s open to the next chapter. ‘I’ve been told I still do a good job,’ he says. ‘I’m not drooling.’
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