Each 90-minute session at WiseGuyz opens with what Spence calls “check-in,” which is a chance for the boys to talk about themselves and what’s going on. Check-in, said Spence, “can take a long time. Some of them really take advantage of that time to talk about some of the issues or the struggles they’re having.”

The safe space that Spence cultivates is crucial to the program’s success. Haberland offered the following criteria for productive sessions: “Answering difficult questions, making sure your classroom is a safe space for LGTBQ teens so that they don’t feel harassed or bullied, and ensuring that the curriculum feels relevant to their needs.”

Also essential is a high-quality facilitator. The best ones, said Spence, are able to connect with participants and talk about touchy subjects without prejudgment or moral expectation.

For instance, a boy in WiseGuyz recently brought up his same-sex curiosity. “That’s huge,” said Spence. “These are 14- or 15-year-old boys and none of them have ever talked about that before. To have someone feel safe enough…is a big deal.”

Martin Poirier, a former principal at Georges P. Vanier Junior High, credits the program for making the school a safer place. “We were one of the first [junior high] schools in Alberta to have a GSA [Gay-Straight Alliance],” he said. “We could do that because kids could be respectful — and that’s a direct impact of WiseGuyz. They were educated to have that respect for diversity.”

He pointed to another incident a few years ago when a girl had “racy” photographs being distributed via social media. “One of the kids in WiseGuyz brought it to our attention so we could intervene and stop the cycle,” he said. “The boys said ‘Hey, that’s not right.’ [WiseGuyz] changed the culture at the school.”

When Will now hears his friends use sexist or homophobic slurs, he routinely calls them out. “It’s kind of a cool way to, you know, clean up our school,” he said. For Will, that meant cleaning up his own act first. He confessed that he was a “casual homophobe” before the module where they learned about homosexuality and the power of language. “That was a big subject,” he says. “Talking about using the word ‘gay’ and casually making fun of it.” Now, he would never use that word. “I watch myself,” he said. “And with guys in my group, we’ve all stopped.”

Kier, a former participant now in grade 11, said that module had a big impact on him too. “When I went in, I would use the word “gay” as a joke,” he said. “But I don’t do that anymore after hearing what Blake had to talk about…. It has helped me to be more accepting.”

To Spence, these outcomes are standard. “We tell them that it might not directly impact you if people talk in sexist, homophobic, or transphobic ways,” said Spence. “But [by virtue of being young men], you have an opportunity to shift those conversations.”

WiseGuyz has made efforts to track its impact. Since its inception in 2010, 370 boys have participated in the program. A recent 12-page analysis notes that “the program has had a significant positive influence on teen boys’ perceptions, attitudes, and beliefs with respect to sexual health, masculinity, and homosexuality.”

But perhaps more persuasive than the self-collected data is the fact that the program has grown from three to six schools in Calgary. Plans are underway to move it into high schools next fall — with WiseGuyz alumni at the helm. Spence routinely fields requests to export his program to the United States, and more recently to South Africa. “Ideally we’d love to be able to scale and take our model and spread it…everywhere,” he said. Funds for the time-intensive program, however, are limited.

He’s also aware that the success of WiseGuyz relies heavily on the leader, and that training leaders can be a lengthy process. “It’s who’s facilitating the curriculum and what their lens is and how they connect with their participants and how do they create that safe space,” he said, “because that’s what needs to happen for the curriculum to resonate and have an impact.”