What a stunning message from Jesse McConacchie, our Head Boy, for the Valedictory Assembly held on Friday morning.
“Greetings staff, parents, the school, and most importantly — the Class of 2025.
My name is Jesse McConnachie, and I have the privilege today of giving the Head Boy’s Address.
I’ve looked forward to this moment for quite a while. The valedictory speech marks the end of an era — the closing chapter of a story that’s shaped who we are. And as with any ending, it’s easy to make it personal. But I’d be doing all 68 of my classmates a disservice if I stood up here and rambled on about myself for ten minutes straight.
So even though I really do love talking about myself, instead I want to tell the story of us — the Class of 2025.
Junior School Years
I didn’t have the pleasure of being at Graeme from Grade 1 to 3 — but from what I’ve heard from those who were, that could fill an entire speech of its own. From Ryan flinging rocks at Zipho to crystal collecting, it sounds like it was quite a time to be a Graemian.
I can’t remember a great deal from Mrs Greyling and Mrs Hills’ classes — and apparently, neither can anyone else — because the best story I could get was that one of our classmates ate a R2 coin.
This was also the year the school was blessed with the infamous duo of Lungako and Elihle — a partnership that will forever live on in Graeme folklore.
In Grade 5, under Mr Bodenstein and Mrs Luden, another legendary camp defined the year. At Kasouga, we camped on the greens — and being typical 11-year-olds, boredom eventually led to sand fights. As we trudged back to camp with a mixture of sand and tears in our eyes, we finally understood why Mr Bodi had told us: “Just stay at camp.”
Grade 6’s camp stands out too — the last one before Covid struck.
There was the long trek to Dias’ Cross, with Mr Ridden driving us forward like a team of sled dogs, and the laps we had to run around camp after one of our bright classmates decided to flicker the lights — after Mr Fischer had specifically warned us not to.
Then came Grade 7, and with it — Covid. Suddenly, there was no class, and we all spent months at home definitely doing the prescribed work Mr Swift gave us. We returned to school towards the end of the year with half-classes, empty notebooks, and a new appreciation for real lessons.
This was also the beginning of Mr X’s #ChangeTheNarrative — something that has stayed with many of us long after we left Junior School.
It was also, for me, the year I received my first and only detention — handed to me by Mr Swift. That single moment shattered my perfect record and sent me down the path of delinquency I’ve never quite recovered from.
High School Years
In January 2021, we took our first nervous steps into high school. No longer the big fish in the small pond, we suddenly had to deal with the likes of Fabio Rischbieter and Craig Ter Blanche as our matrics.
The Grade 8-Matric braai promised to be the exciting start to this new journey. We all lined up at the office to pay our R20, buzzing with anticipation — only for the matrics to cancel the braai, leaving us disappointed and twenty rand poorer.
And what would Grade 8 have been without the nicknames? From Lollipop to Shemba, Marvelous to Einstein, and most famously — Headache. Our poor teachers had to deal with an ever-changing list of nicknames that, at its peak, reached over 60 — proudly written out in the art class like an exhibit in the Louvre.
We admired it as art; our teachers saw it as a sign of collective brain damage. Even the faintest whisper of a nickname could set us off like piranhas on raw meat. So, to our Grade 8 teachers — sincerely — we’re sorry.
By Grade 9, we felt we’d made it. No longer the terrified new boys, but not quite anyone of real importance either. It was a strange in-between time — the year we started figuring out who we were, and what kind of mark we wanted to leave.
Grade 10 arrived with elective subjects. Like every starry-eyed Grade 10 class before us, we all thought astrophysics was in our futures.
So around 45 of us crammed into Dr Shaw’s class — and as she looked out at our confused faces, I’m sure she was already counting the days until we broke. The answer was: not long. Now, at the end of our journey, only 20 brave souls remain — we salute you.
Grade 11 brought the class we’d all heard about — the infamous English lessons of Ms K. Expecting the worst, we entered cautiously… and quickly learned she wasn’t half as terrifying as the legends suggested. As it turns out, as long as you don’t use her class as a bedroom — like a certain Mr Dlamini — you’ll be fine.
This was also the year many of us made our first-team debuts — in sport, music, and debating — the year we truly began to represent the school in our own right.
And then, at the end of the year, came leadership season — with posters plastered everywhere. The clear winner of the “Best Poster Award” went to Joy, for his unforgettable “Wanted Poster” that had little Grade 4s calling out to him from across the school.
Matric – The Final Chapter
And finally — Grade 12. The last lap. The year that tests everything we’ve learned — not just in class, but about life.
Let me be honest: it wasn’t easy. Whoever said matric is “just revision” deserves the False Information Trophy, because that is the biggest load of rubbish I have ever heard. Between university applications, exam stress, and the reality of the future approaching fast, this was the hardest year yet.
But that being said — it was also the most rewarding.
To the Staff
Never in my life would I have thought I’d miss being called Sweetie Pie or Cupcake — but that’s the Mr van Molendorff effect.
To Mr Watson and Mr van Molendorff, thank you for the time, humour, and care you’ve poured into this school and into us. You’ve left a legacy far greater than you know.
To the rest of the staff — thank you. You shaped us, believed in us, and tolerated us — which might be your greatest achievement of all. I know dealing with Rueben, Jethro and Lutwe was a pain, but the kindness, compassion, and lessons you’ve provided will never leave us.
To Mr Wiblin — thank you for all the work you’ve done in the OGU. I know we all can’t wait to join this collective of old boys.
To the School
To the rest of the school — I want to echo the quote Noah made in his speech yesterday: do as Mr Van der Meulen says, and “take the bull by the horns.” You are provided every opportunity you need to excel — it’s now up to you to grab those opportunities with both hands.
To the Class of 2025
To my brothers — the Class of 2025 — people often say it’s bad to peak in high school. I’d agree. And I’m certain that every one of us will go out and make our mark far beyond what we’ve achieved here.
But even if this is where we’ve peaked — what a tall peak it is.
At the start of this speech, I said I’d try to stay away from personal feelings. The truth is, I can’t. Because everything I’ve seen, learned, and experienced has been through the lens of Jesse — just as Stafford has lived it through Stafford’s, and Kamva through Kamva’s.
And through my lens, what I’ve seen is love, laughter, and a brotherhood that will never fade.
I was one of the lucky ones — I really loved school. And I know not everyone feels that way. But I’m sure even those who didn’t would agree that these years have been nothing short of life-changing.
I look back to who I was when I first arrived, and I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for the person this great college has helped me become.
Writing this speech — I’ll admit — I was shaking. Not from nerves, but because I didn’t want it to be the last time I stood here, speaking to the people and the place that I will forever consider to be my home.
So to my classmates, my teachers, my family, and to this school — thank you.
You have, without a doubt, made this the best time of my life, and each and every one of you will hold a place in my heart.
Thank you, College.”