Just a week after recovering from an attempt to take my own life did an unexpected phone call make its way to me.
“We loved your work and would love to give you a position on the university desk at The Alligator.”
I was stunned. I had heard early on when I transferred to the University of Florida that The Alligator was the best student newspaper in the country. And I, who was considering switching majors and leaving journalism behind, found myself accepting a position at the paper and discovering a new sense of purpose in life — and learning how to pick myself back up after pushing myself so far into the ground I could’ve tasted my own grave.
When Claire Grunewald asked who wanted to step in and attend student government meetings, I happily obliged. I was ecstatic to pick up any, and every, story to show people they could rely on me.
The Alligator became my life and pride and joy. I pumped out several articles a week, found myself going to meetings I didn’t even need to for the sake of finding a story.
Maybe I was a bit naive.
I won’t lie, the student government beat broke me. I found myself a middleman rather than a reporter. Constantly scared to anger sources, an inbox always flooded with arguments rather than tips. And when a source threatened me and another started to stalk me, I kept to myself, not even trusting my friends to know in fear of retaliation.
Obviously that backfired. But because I wanted so badly to be this kickass journalist who could hold her own fort, I failed to realize I had lost grip a long time ago. On top of that, I was dealing with the cutthroat world of student journalism. But I came to the realization I had two options: walk away and leave journalism behind, or pick myself up from the floor, rebuild what I’ve broken and get to work.
And when I was welcomed back to The Alligator in summer 2024, I knew it was too precious to ever let go again. I’m so grateful for every editor and “Big 3” I got to experience, especially the ones who doubted me. I’m indebted to this paper for the way it taught me to grow and be a better person, take accountability and do better for readers and my colleagues every day.
Ultimately, most people who have worked at this paper have complex feelings about it. Your colleagues are kind of your friends, you have class with them and hang out, then the next thing you know you’re arguing with them about a headline and its tense. In an odd way, I’m happy The Alligator pushes us out of our comfort zone.
Those tense moments help us grow and make us want to stay for a reason.
Sophia, Rylan, Avery, Vera and Nat. You guys were the best possible last desk I could’ve asked for. Your humility, work ethic and kindness was something I’d never experienced before.
I wish we had more time.
I’m going to miss having a purpose on Sundays and miss getting to put on a silly costume with my desk for every party. I’ll never forget being Scooby Doo last Halloween and then turning around to Kylie Williams break dancing. I’m going to miss the weird mannequin head on the first floor and the times I’d need someone to come with me to vending machines on the third floor because I’m convinced it's haunted. I’m going to miss a lot, but this column would break the website if I said everything I loved and cried about during my time here.
All I have left to say to The Alligator is thank you, I love you. Even if there were times you couldn’t say it back to me.
Vivienne Serret was the Spring 2025 politics reporter.
Vivienne Serret is a UF journalism and criminology senior, serving as the Fall 2024 race and equity reporter for The Alligator's Enterprise desk. She previously worked as a columnist and previously reported for The Alligator's university desk as the student government reporter. She loves karaoke and lifting at the gym.
