Matric 2025: the year of endings

Matric is meant to be a dramatic year – everyone warned me about it. Only no-one prepared me for what it feels like when my school decided to close down while I was still trying to memorise essay structures, monologues, and consumer studies definitions. 

While every other matric class before me worried about marks, finals, and universities, I worried whether the lights would still be on when I arrived at school. 

But that’s the irony: while the building weakened, I grew stronger. 

Matric forced me into a very specific kind of emotional multitasking. One moment I was writing about gender-based violence; substance abuse; ubuntu; and academic pressure. The next I was performing a monologue as Ravenna from Snow White and the Huntsman, yelling like a medieval queen at imaginary subordinates just to release stress. If someone walked into a drama practical rehearsal without context, they would’ve assumed that therapy wasn’t working for me. 

Balancing academics was its own adventure. Forget colour-coded notes and dream study plans, matric teaches you to write 800-word essays on a topic you barely understand in 45 minutes and somehow make it sound intellectual. 

I learned how to study from half-completed summaries; how to do Harvard referencing; and how to submit work with confidence even when I wasn’t fully sure what I was writing. 

Somewhere between exam stress; emotional breakdowns; friendships falling apart; due dates coming up; and the realisation that matric was in fact harder than Grade 11, something shifted in me. 

I became resilient – and so did my classmates. The kind of resilience that comes from working through chaos; completing tasks without certainty; and showing up even when everything around you is disappearing – literally. 

It was strangely poetic that I didn’t have the comfort of knowing that my school would still be standing after I matriculated. Normally, a matric class leaves their school behind. I watched mine pack up while I remained in it. 

Years from now, I won’t say, “Remember when I matriculated?”. I’ll say, “Remember when I matriculated and King David Victory Park shut its doors the same year?” That’s history. That’s something future students won’t ever relate to. 

If matric was supposed to teach me independence, responsibility, and character, my version of matric tripled the lesson. Not only did I develop insane acne from stress, I also gained an intense caffeine addiction and an important piece of knowledge: nobody is coming to save me. 

Matric teaches you that you are alone in life. Grade 12 is your first taste of the adult world, and most definitely your excuse to be as selfish as ever. In fact, I regret not being selfish enough as while the school was slowly shutting down, the teachers were most definitely fading with it. 

Another lesson I learned is that sometimes endings aren’t tragic, they’re symbolic. Along the way, I lost some friends, some because they were genuinely toxic and others simply because stress moved us apart. 

But even though it hurt, letting go taught me that not everyone is meant to stay, and that losing people can make room for healthier connections. Hashem had a plan for me, and thinking back, I’m grateful that I can now move forward with the most brilliant people in my life. 

So yes, I stressed, cried, studied at disgraceful hours, and wrote every Independent Examinations Board past paper. But I also passed, submitted, completed, performed, achieved, and left with dignity. I left with relief that I would never need to do this year again. 

The school may have been shutting down, but its legacy didn’t end with it. My year of 2025 became the last imprint – the final King David Victory Park matric class that walked out while the lights switched off behind us. And for that, I didn’t just complete matric and leave, I left with a story no other class could recreate. 

To all those in matric of 2026, be selfish; concentrate in class; go out and buy out all the Red Bulls at Engen; and most importantly make your legacy bright and your future even brighter. 

• Danella Cassel was a King David Victory Park Matric 2025 student and part of the last matric class.