No more hesitant steps

I’m sitting in my freshman year dorm room. Its weathered walls and uneven steps unsettled me at first, but I ignored the constant hum of construction and the calls beckoning me to go back home. 

I would often lie on the floor, eyes fixated on each divot of my popcorn ceiling, contemplating what would become of my life at the University of Florida. I had all this passion with nowhere to put it. 

I first learned about The Alligator when I was seated in the back of a lecture hall, too scared to take up space in the front row.

Then I couldn’t stop noticing it. I walked past the bright orange news boxes in Turlington, trying not to trip as I debated picking up a copy every week. The paper became a benchmark for an aspiring journalist with zero experience.

As my first semester of college concluded, my finger wavered over the link to apply. I couldn’t do it. I hesitated, shutting off my phone and swallowing the feeling that I wasn’t the sort of candidate they were seeking. What could I offer?

The day applications opened for Spring 2024, I hesitated again. My feet dragged before nearly getting my shoelace stuck on the Library West escalator. But I found a table at my typical haunt — the third-floor reading room — and began filling out the Google Form with shaky fingers.

I started my first semester as a graduate and professional school reporter. It was unlike anything I had ever done. I found myself cold-calling students and emailing professors. I panicked before every interview, forcing myself through a series of deep breaths and shuffling steps before I walked into each one-on-one, wondering if I was up for the challenge. 

My first editor, Alissa Gary, was everything I wanted to be as a reporter. She was the best editor I could’ve asked for. To this day, I’m blown away by what you do, Alissa. Your work ethic is inspiring, and your genuine love for what you do is something I’ll always remember. I can’t wait to see what you accomplish. 

Slowly, entering rooms and asking questions — making my voice heard — became second nature. My steps were more determined as I propelled myself forward despite unanswered emails, off-the-record conversations and a creeping doubt ready to swallow me whole each time I fumbled. And I fumbled a lot. 

I finished my first semester at The Alligator with a new feeling in my chest: hope. I was a reporter now, and I needed to do more. 

With steadier hands, I opened the application link for Fall 2024. I was on the university desk again, this time as a general assignment reporter. As I entered the somewhat apocalyptic building The Alligator shares with the Gainesville Sun, my footsteps felt light, more confident.

My second editor, Sophia Bailly, was a rock to me in ways I don’t think I ever fully made known. Her constant support and guidance — even when I submitted stories at 2 a.m. — was something I’ll never forget. Sophia, you have one of the biggest hearts in the universe. Your compassion and intelligence are unrivaled. 

Even so, I still questioned every story I pitched. Would my editor like it? What if no one cares to read it? 

I debated each interview. Did I get good quotes? Did I dig deep enough? 

I second-guessed every copy I submitted. Could I have done it better? How would another reporter do it? 

Whenever I questioned everything, my journalistic nature was hard at work. It always made me indecisive, unsure if what I was doing was right or valuable. 

But at The Alligator, what I did felt like it mattered. I wanted to keep moving forward, growing more confident in myself with each step I took.

By the time summer rolled around, my hands began to shake again. Suddenly placed in a position where I became the decision maker, I carried the lessons of the editors and reporters who inspired me. Pushing through my uncertainty, I remembered the lessons they taught me and took on the challenge of managing a newspaper. 

It would’ve been an impossible feat without the editors who helped ground me despite the hundreds of obstacles the world consistently threw at us. 

Zan, Avery and Noor, thank you for your help in a summer that never seemed to stop. 

Jin-Hee, your hard work kept this paper afloat. Your messages were a lifeline during Sunday prints, and your dedication was admirable. I can’t wait to see what you accomplish after you graduate. The world isn’t ready for you. 

Kairi, you balanced an internship with being an editor. Your work ethic is equally incredible and impressive. Your ability to encourage others to jump out of their comfort zone and find new ways to express themselves makes you a phenomenal editor. I looked forward to reading the columns you selected each week. You amaze me every day. 

Max and Luke, you two were the best sports editors anyone could ask for. 

Max, your positive attitude radiated through the computer screen. Your joyfulness was more grounding than you know. Your eagerness to help reporters succeed pushed them into excellent coverage at a time when readers wouldn’t expect sports coverage to shine.

Luke, your uplifting energy made Sundays less stressful. Even while deadlines grew daunting as the hours passed, your enthusiasm for The Alligator was a driving force for us all. Your commitment to your craft is unmatched, and it reflected in every aspect of your work. Thank you for always hopping on flats at the drop of a hat. You’ll be amazing at anything you do. 

I spent the summer telling my roommate I wish I could have “a bunch of little SJs running around.” 

SJ, your spirit is something that will always blow me away. You put your body and soul into everything. You took two reporters under your wing and guided them to write some of the biggest stories of the summer. You encompass what it means to be a journalist: dedicated, fearless and persistent. I admire you so much. Never stop doing what you do. 

Last but definitely not least, Bailey. We faced so many obstacles this summer. From an unprecedented start to the semester to some kind of karma we’re still questioning to this day, you were my anchor. I could not have done anything without you. Your efficiency, creativity and compassion were the glue that held this paper together. I’m always amazed by your quick thinking and adaptability. Most importantly, your kindness and levelheadedness kept us sane. 

You encompass what it takes to work for The Alligator: an unshakable passion and determination. 

The Alligator has given me something I can never lose: strength and security in myself. 

Despite the stress, sleepless nights and crash outs, I wouldn’t trade this experience for the world. I don’t know who I’d be without The Alligator, and I don’t know where I’d be without the people who inspired me and made the paper the powerhouse that it is.  

That’s not to say I don’t still second-guess everything. I worry about every email, text and edit I send or make. I question if I made the right decision and if I acted in the best interest of The Alligator’s extensive legacy. 

But now, I pick my feet up and move without a second glance. I won’t know if I did things right if I don’t step forward. I’ll navigate winding roads and uneven staircases with the might and heart of a journalist. It’s a part of me I would never have unlocked if I hadn’t stepped through the propped-open door of The Alligator office. 

The next time you find yourself memorizing the patterns in your ceiling and wondering if you’re meant for something bigger than yourself, step up to the challenge, even if you stumble. Turn your doubt into determination, because then, you can tackle anything.  

Delia Rose Sauer was the Summer 2025 Editor-in-Chief.

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