Every morning at 8:30 AM, the first bell rings at Mira Costa High School. By that time, I’ve walked or biked a short distance from my house. But for many of the teachers standing at the front of our classrooms, the day started hours earlier, on the 405 or the 105, commuting from communities miles away.

We often talk about the “Manhattan Beach Bubble.” It’s a term we use to describe our isolation from the rest of Los Angeles, a safe, affluent, and sometimes insular world. But looking at who can actually afford to live inside this bubble reveals a crack in our foundation. We are missing the “Middle.”

The “Missing Middle” usually refers to a type of housing—duplexes, townhomes, and courtyard apartments that fit between single-family mansions and large apartment complexes. But in Manhattan Beach, the Missing Middle is also people. It is our teachers, our nurses, the baristas at the coffee shops we study in, and the city workers who maintain our parks.

Growing up here, I’ve learned that a community is defined by shared experiences. It’s seeing your English teacher at the grocery store, or having your soccer coach live down the street. When the people who serve our community are priced out of it, those connections are severed. Our teachers become commuters, not neighbors. They grade our papers, but they don’t vote in our local elections or attend our weekend block parties. They are forced to be visitors in the very place they dedicate their lives to improving.

This isn’t just about economics; it’s about the culture of our city. When a city becomes exclusive to only the ultra-wealthy, it loses its vibrancy. Fairness in housing isn’t about destroying the character of our neighborhoods; it’s about enriching them. It’s about ensuring that a young teacher starting their career has a shot at living near the school they love.

As a student, I don’t pay property taxes yet. I don’t vote on zoning ordinances. But I do inherit the future that is being built today. If we continue to prioritize exclusivity over inclusivity, we risk becoming a gated community in spirit, if not in reality.

I want to live in a Manhattan Beach where the people who teach me, protect me, and help me grow can also be my neighbors. That is a future worth building, and it starts with bringing the Missing Middle back home.