I am a third-generation Larrie. My grandmother, Wilhelmina Mostert, was in matric in either 1941 or 1942 — we are not entirely sure which year. During that time, she developed rheumatic fever and became seriously ill. It was uncertain whether she would be able to write her matric examinations at all, and when she did, she had very little time to prepare. In the end, she managed to complete her exams and pass, even if it wasn’t to the standard she would have liked. My mother, Anne Hilde Andersen, followed her and went on to become Head Girl in 1974.

Today, I am the proud aunt of a Grade 2 Larrie, and maybe my daughter will one day walk those same corridors too.

One of my earliest memories of La Rochelle is from Grade 1. My teacher, Mrs Barnard, asked which colour sports team my mother had been in, because I would go into the same one. My mother had been in the blue team, Pride. It was a small moment, but it mattered. It made me feel that I already belonged.

Later, when I studied horticulture and soil science at Stellenbosch University, I found myself in a space that was still very male-dominated. I remember my first agricultural symposium — a pome-fruit day — and realising I was one of only a handful of women in the room. It was uncomfortable at first, but it also clarified something for me: if I did the work properly, understood my field, and stayed true to myself, I didn’t need to justify my place there.

In my final year of BSc Agric, I received the A. I. Perold Medal for best student in the faculty. It was unexpected, and I was genuinely taken aback by it. It remains a reminder that consistent effort, over time, does count.

La Rochelle played a quiet but important role in shaping that outlook. Being a Larrie was never about being loud or showy. It was about learning that standards matter, that independence matters, and that you are capable of more than you think — whether that means carrying your own desk into the school hall for exams, raising your own flag, or understanding that rugby, while important in the South African context, is not everything.

I went on to complete my master’s and PhD in horticulture. Today, I work as Technical Manager for five nurseries in the Du Roi Group and a blueberry farm, Wasi Berries, and I consult in the protea industry. Across all this work, one thing has stayed constant: trust matters. People need to trust your judgement, your experience, and your integrity.

If there are any principles I try to live by, they are simple ones: do your best and do the right thing. Over time, that combination builds something solid.

To the Larries who are still at school: you don’t need to rush to become anything in particular. Pay attention to what interests you, follow it seriously, and don’t feel the need to shrink yourself along the way. Confidence grows quietly — often long after school — but it has strong foundations here.