It has been a week since my last night as Enterprise Editor at The Independent Florida Alligator. And it has finally hit me that my time there and my time as a student at the
I woke up at about 4:45 a.m. from a barely remembered dream of editing my reporters’ stories at the Alligator last week. And I then realized I’m probably not going to have the chance to do that again for a long time.
I’m not going to be calling my reporters at 10 or 11 at night to make sure they checked their facts. I’m not going to feel the temptation to bang my head against the wall when my writers didn’t file their stories fast enough or had holes in their articles.
I’m not going to feel the pride of editing a reporter’s well-written story or of knowing that the reporters put all their effort into their work.
I’m going to miss competing against a co-worker in a game of who can answer the office phones faster, which ended in a score of 12 to 7 in her favor. And I’m going to miss talking with her about what counts as good journalism when we should be working, instead.
I’m going to miss joking with the University editor about which of our classmates we hate more and worrying about whether we will be able to find jobs and internships.
The paper helped me grow. I wrote articles that I am proud to show off. I realized that this is what I want to do with my life and understand that the autism was not as much of an obstacle for me as I thought it would be. I learned to accept the sacrifices that come with the job, such as giving up a normal sleep cycle. And the ordeals of hunting for a story or stalking elusive sources became fun for me.
But, just as importantly, I learned that a paper is only as good as the people work to put it out, as my friend once told me. If it weren’t for the other editors and writers who put all their effort into making the paper successful, my time there would not have been anywhere as fulfilling.
And I wouldn't have been able to survive college if it weren't for the friends, both at the Alligator and at UF, who helped make life enjoyable.
Consider this my way of saying thank you to the friends who treated me like I was one of them.
This is a thank you to the friends who assured me my writing was good when I doubted myself. And it’s a thank you to the editors who yelled at me when it was not.
This is a thank you to the friends who invited me to parties and talked to me about their lives and helped me feel human.
No, this is not the end of my blog. I hope to maintain it while I search for a job in journalism. Hopefully, I will come back soon with good news.
