In the four years I've worked at this paper, I've never used the word "I" in a published sentence. So when I decided to write my goodbye column, it was hard to get started.
You see, the Alligator has never been about me. You could argue I began working here as a contributing photographer for experience my freshman Fall, because that's true. It's the reason I tried writing that same semester, and it's the reason I grew to be photo editor and later metro editor: to hone my skills. To get a job.
But the thing that kept me coming back — the thing that made the late nights, lack of sleep and intense stress worth it — was the support.
College semesters are like subway stops. People flood in and pour out, and our newsroom is no different. The editors who helped me become a better journalist are long gone now, though their Polaroid pictures from past staff parties still stick to office corkboards.
Yet in my four-year college career, the Alligator has been a constant. Somewhere in between line-editing my stories and toning my photos, my mentors became my friends and my friends became professionals. Professionals who still celebrated with me when I landed my goal internship and surrounded me with support when I didn't. It's a circle that continues as new staff members come in and a cycle that will remain when I graduate this spring.
Throughout my time here, I always viewed myself as a very small cog in the Alligator machine — one piece of the puzzle that churns out our daily college publication. It's easy to feel insignificant if you're not preparing the paper's page schedule or shaving down stories each night. But if there's anything I've learned as the semesters came and went, it's that we need each other.
Whether you're a contributing writer or the editor-in-chief, this paper is a group effort. And no matter how independent you are, life's a group effort too. The Alligator version took hard work, long hours and a lot of squinting at a computer screen, but the output was the same — friendship, stability and, to quote Led Zeppelin, a "whole lotta love."
Sometimes when I'm editing stories I think, "Who will sit in my seat in next year? In four years?"
Will it be you?
Whether you're heading into your second semester of freshman year or preparing to exhaust the #UFGrad hashtag at graduation, look around you. Are you taking care of yourself? Is anyone taking care of you? Where do you go when things fall apart?
For me, the Alligator was that place. Whether it was a nap on the photo couch or a talk in my editor's office; whether it was a deep breath at the metro desk or a silent moment to myself on the roof (sorry Trish), this newsroom is where I came to ground myself, collect my thoughts and keep going.
This is the last week my name will appear on the Alligator masthead. I wish it weren't. I wish I could hole myself up in 1105 W. University Ave. forever and ignore the future. The job search. My impending adulthood.
But deep down I know a new newsroom full of support is waiting for me in the real world. And I know leaving here only means a new start for someone else.
Thanks for the laughs, the trips, the friendships and the memories. And thanks for the stories — the ones we published, and the ones we created while working together.
Rachel Crosby is the Alligator metro editor.
[A version of this story ran on page 7 on 12/7/2014]
