Iris
A little under an hour later, the large black gates of Wellington Academy open to let us in. I can’t help but gasp softly as I look up at the large building. It really is beautiful—red brick with white trim, large windows, a manicured lawn, and a big wrought iron fence with manned gates so strangers can’t just walk onto the school grounds. Beautiful, intimidating, and most of all: safe.
It looks exactly like what a prestigious private school should look like. But I can’t help but feel a little guilty.
Is it hypocritical of me to be looking at private schools for Miles when I’m advocating for better public school funding?
Before I can spiral further into that thought, the front doors swing open, and a woman in her fifties with silver-streaked dark hair steps out to gree
