Decoding race relations at Monterey County's most ethnically diverse campus.

The clanging bell signals school time, and a December chill is in the air. Through a maze of modular classrooms and colored backpacks, Seaside High students make their way to first period, stopping to shake down for a quick "wassup, man?" and last-minute gossip. Slouched against a wall, a tall black student in a blue Nike jacket nuzzles his girlfriend. Around the corner, an Asian-American kid wearing what look like pajamas meanders into class. Nearby, Latina girls sporting tight white jeans and signature dark-outlined lips linger outside. A shy but pretty girl with wavy dark hair and a wide smile looks down as she walks past--a Filipina perhaps, or a Pacific Islander.

Moments later, inside Dominic Trevino''s world history class, students read and pass flirtatious notes in age-old high school fashion. Each face suggests a different heritage or ethnicity--white, Pacific Islander, Asian, Latino, black. The place looks like a United Nations general assembly meeting room.

But instead of squabbling over turf, these students seem to share common ground. In one corner, an Asian-American girl with red highlighted hair flirts with her white neighbor. A few seats away, a racial medley of students huddles over a binder of schoolwork recently corrected by Trevino. Around the room, students interact and communicate across lines of race and culture.

Michelle, a Vietnamese-American student, sits flipping through her binder. Shiny photos of an ethnically diverse crew of kids grace the cover, labeled with bubbly monikers reading Tina, Jaime, Fernando, Liz, and Vikki. Much to the amusement of his neighbors, another Vietnamese-American kid points around the room. "He''s from North Vietnam, he''s from Germany, he''s Korean," he says. He motions playfully to a black kid sitting across the room dressed sharp in blue sneakers and a black jersey jacket. "Even him. BJ, you a Nguyen too, huh? You''re blackanese. Say something in Vietnamese," he calls out over the background chatter. BJ laughs and shakes his head. "Yeah, I am," he replies. "I''m blackarean."

Welcome to Seaside High, the wave of California''s diverse future. A multicultural mix of 1,500 adolescents (all of Marina''s high school-aged kids and a good part of Seaside''s) arrive here each morning to interact with each other in class, at lunch, in clubs and in friendships in the most impressive confluence of cultures, races and languages of any campus in the county.

So varied is the student body that no one group can claim the majority. Seaside High''s many ethnic groups each represent just one piece of an inherently pluralistic community. Latinos have recently taken the lead, representing close to a third of the student body, followed by whites and African-Americans at about 20 percent each, Asian-Americans at 13 percent, and then smaller numbers of Pacific Islanders, Filipinos and a handful of Native Americans. Other area high schools pale by comparison, so to speak: Monterey High claims a solid 56 percent white majority, and East Salinas'' Alisal High has an overwhelming 95 percent Latino majority.

With the U.S. Census Bureau''s announcement in August that California''s white majority has given way to a plurality of racial minorities, the state as a whole has a vested interest in how campuses like Seaside High are faring. Soon enough, these students will be out in the world, running businesses, starting their own families and making decisions. How real is the illusion of racial harmony and multicultural bliss at Seaside High? And what does that mean for California''s future?

Judging from Seaside High''s students, California has a lot to look forward to in the coming years: real interest in diversity, multicultural harmony, and a celebration of self. But while the social creation of the "other" appears to be fading, color lines have not disappeared. Shared identity and familiarity continue to play a role in determining the order of the day, even at Seaside High.

Diverse City

Seaside High has always been a diverse place, because a school, of course, reflects its community. The comparatively affordable cities of Marina and Seaside and the former military base comprising the north end of the Peninsula have long been home to a host of immigrant communities, as well as the only sizable African-American community on the greater Central Coast. In fact, shortly before Fort Ord closed in 1994, Marina was named the seventh most diverse city in the nation by the U.S. Chamber of Commerce.

The closing of the base has since contributed to a shift in the area''s demographics and a redistribution of racial concentrations. The most obvious change over the past decade has been the simultaneous decrease in the percentages of whites and African-Americans and a rapid influx of Latinos.

With the 2000 Census data not scheduled for release until this summer, precise demographic changes are difficult to predict. But school district statistics are proof enough of a dramatic change: In 1990, Seaside High recorded that only 10 percent of its students were Latino and 40 percent were white. By those calculations, the school''s Latino student body has more than tripled in 10 years, while the white population has been halved.

History teacher Robert Groeling has witnessed these changes firsthand over the past 16 years. Looking back as a Caucasian in an ever-changing racial mix, he reflects on the assimilation of immigrant groups and the shifts in racial dynamics between students and faculty.

"When I was first here, I never saw a Vietnamese kid that didn''t get an A," he says. "Now they''ve been Americanized, but they still have mostly positive scores and their parents are still involved.

"African-American kids aren''t as angry as they were in 1985," he adds. "Maybe it''s the influence of [the principal] Dr. Lusk--she''s a good role model. I used to have kids trying to trip me up, to get me to say something stereotypical. But I didn''t do it, because I ran around with the black kids in high school."

The Low Down

Physical violence, perhaps the most tangible evidence of racial intolerance, is conspicuously absent from Seaside High. Detective Larry Raussa, until recently the Seaside Police Department''s school resource officer, says race is "just not an issue there. Never has it been brought up with the rainbow of races that they have there."

Most students agree that the few fights that occur on campus are based on "stupid stuff" like girls and "he said, she said" arguments. In fact, the greatest incident of intolerance at the school recently wasn''t racial at all but came several years ago after two openly lesbian girls were smooching on campus and students reacted by circulating a petition to ban homosexual affection on campus.

And it is clear through a peek at the school''s outdoor hallways and inside its classrooms that Seaside High''s diverse subgroups do much better than simply keep the peace. During their structured class time, students seem to interact almost indiscriminately across lines of race and nationality, sharing homework assignments, giggles and jokes and the insecurities of teenage years.

But a visit to Seaside High''s lunch hour, the most coveted time of the day, when free will reigns and teachers retreat to their lounge, demonstrates that when it comes down to choosing friends, cliques and dating partners, racial lines are still visible.

Inside the lunchroom, Latino boys speaking Spanish and eating burritos and chocolate milk occupy two long tables. Behind them lies a table made up of Pacific Islander boys on one side and closely huddled Asian-American girls on the other. By the door, a handful of sleekly dressed and sophisticated-looking Asian-American young women speak pointedly to each other, blocking out the surrounding chaos.

Outside in the dull haze of Peninsula winter sunlight, the booming bass of rap music plays background to a more integrated, playful scene. On a balcony overlooking the bustling courtyard, two white girls with long straight hair and wearing low hiking boots talk intimately over a couple of diet Sprites. Below them, a smiling group of young girls, each one a different race, skips by arm-in-arm. A large group of black students joined by a lone white girl sits on the stage of the school''s outdoor arena, hanging tight and busting an occasional dance move.

Later on in the quiet of the library, Filipina student Michelle Esver explains with a wide, enchanting smile that students choose their inner circle of confidantes on the basis of comfort levels. "People hang out with their own races because they have so much in common, because it''s natural," says Michelle, who appears savvy beyond her years. "But they also have other friends. It just happens that way, but then people want to say it''s a racial thing."

Michelle''s sister Jessica adds that, despite the clear lines of race on campus, an underlying unity also exists. "At first when I got here I thought, ''We have to find our people,'' but it''s not like that," she says.

Dressed in a black Playboy shirt and a large silver bunny medallion, leadership student Emily Horn sees her school as an accepting place. As the only "white girl" on the cheerleading squad (she''s actually half Japanese but looks Caucasian and self-identifies as such), Emily revels in the diversity around her, speaks Spanish, and has had friends and boyfriends of all backgrounds.

"People feel inferior with people of other races, you know, to go kick it with them," Emily begins, "but I don''t let myself be put aside. If there''s all black girls hanging out, I go up to them. If they don''t accept me, that''s their fault."

Emily''s experience of acceptance at Seaside High is reflected in her early days as a cheerleader, when her fellow black and Filipina cheerleaders encouraged her and believed in her ability to dance, "even though I''m a white girl."

But while sports may act as a unifier, the issue of music has raised hackles, as musical choice and teenage popularity games collide with the school''s effort to promote equal representation. Josh, a white student and member of the leadership class that works to design student events, is out of sorts over the prevalence of rap music during the lunch hour and what he feels is an inability to be heard as a white student. Due to a series of complaints regarding the music, a DJ is now in charge of noontime music to ensure that all types of music are played.

"All they played was hip-hop. We tried to play punk and everybody said, ''That sucks,''" says Josh of an incident a while back. The classmates around him get agitated listening to the story, reminding Josh of the moshing that had accompanied the punk music and how the speakers got blasted. Eyes roll, people snicker, and the group of students disperses. It seems students do not take fondly to bringing up divisive issues and reject the notion that Josh''s experience was rooted in race.

Emily Horn concurs that on a campus so rooted in celebrating racial diversity and culture, having a sense of a white identity is difficult, because white students don''t share a readily identifiable heritage. But she thinks it all balances out.

"We [white people] are already known for all sorts of stuff and they''re [new immigrants] in this country so they know about America," she says. "But we don''t know anything about their countries, so that''s why they''re showing it to us."

The New Americans

The high concentration of new immigrants at Seaside High, primarily from Mexico and Vietnam, presents perhaps the greatest challenge to the school''s goal of racial integration. As one student of Irish, Italian, Indian, Jamaican and Korean descent puts it, "We pretty much blend together, we''re all Americans. The only people who really segregate themselves are the Mexicans. I guess they like to speak Spanish."

That comment is echoed by others at the school, who recognize to varying degrees that the newly immigrated students face cultural and linguistic challenges that prevent them from wholly integrating into the school''s mix.

Limited English students are grouped together for certain classes, leaving them less time to bond with the student body at large. Standing in stark contrast to most classes on the campus, Dominic Trevino''s third-period SDAIE class (Specially Designed Academic Instruction in English) is all Latino except for one Fijian. A close-knit, family-style atmosphere prevails in the room, and the language of choice among students is Spanish.

Grouped together in Trevino''s class are students like Noe Cardenas, who arrived six months ago from the Mexican state of Guanahuato to join his dad, a player in a Nortena band and a gardener. Across the room sits Rosa, a pretty, round-faced sophomore who immigrated from Mexico only a year ago and already boasts straight A''s. While Rosa''s favorite class is Spanish, she says, "I like to be in class with the Americans so I practice my English more. I''m not embarrassed anymore, like I was when I first arrived."

Though interaction among all groups certainly occurs, two longtime U.S. residents of Mexican origin, Alma and Irene, say their communication with non-Latinos doesn''t go much beyond casual interaction. "We talk to the English-speakers, but we don''t really hang out with them," explains Irene, an American-born sophomore who considers herself Mexican. "But some Mexicans do. Some are not even saying, ''Yes, I''m Mexican.'' Some of the Hispanic guys are doing the skater scene now and changing."

Trevino says such separation is natural. "It reflects society, it really does. People hang out with themselves," he says. "You also have a separation depending on length of time here--the longer the time, they tend to mingle more."

Love and Happiness

One arena where it seems most everyone on campus feels included is the dating world. While students have varying answers on who dates whom--many assert that more mixing occurs between blacks, whites and mixed race students than among Asians and Latinos--they agree that dating is the great equalizer among races and cultures. "The tables at lunch might all be the same race, but with dating we''re like, interchangeable, if you could say that," says senior Emily Horn.

And students pride themselves on taking this message of inclusion and acceptance home to their parents, who often have a tougher time with the idea. "That''s something my parents are working on right now," says Jessica, a Filipina student dating a Vietnamese boy. "This generation is more open-minded."

Even among Latinos, who may not date out of their culture as often as some students, a strong acceptance of interracial dating and personal preference appears to prevail. "I''m gonna marry whoever I want," says Alma, a Latina student who says most of her friends are other Latinos. "My mom says, ''I don''t want a black person in the family,'' and I say ''Mom, that''s not even fair.''"

The Noble Leaders

With part of its official mission statement being to "foster an atmosphere where culturally diverse groups can share their uniqueness," the powers that be at Seaside High praise this type of inclusive attitude. But the individual stewards of this worthy goal, the school''s staff and faculty, vary more in hair color and style of reading glasses than in race or culture. Unlike the students they teach and guide, Seaside High''s faculty has a very clear white majority.

That dichotomy is neither unique to Seaside nor easy to solve. Monterey Bay Teachers Association President Marilynn Whitcomb explains that "Like other districts, we are very cognizant of the fact that we would like to attract minorities into teaching, minorities being men as well. But salaries across the nation are a deterrent."

And in the wake of Fort Ord''s closure and last spring''s discovery that the Monterey Peninsula Unified School District is $9 million in arrears, the district''s salary packages lag below average for the region. Last year alone, Seaside High lost 22 teachers, including its only Vietnamese- American teacher.

Principal Bettye Lusk recognizes that, as a strong African-American woman in a leadership role, she serves as a role model for students. "Of course all students need to see a role model," she says, and she celebrates the fact that students of nearly every ethnic group on campus can see their faces reflected in at least one staff member''s. But Lusk asserts that while the school makes every effort to attract a diverse staff, the core issue is what the teachers know and their ability to share that knowledge.

Lusk''s 20 years of experience at Seaside High lead her to believe that teachers are successfully enhancing relations between the campus'' diverse populations. She points to campus events planned by activities director Carolyn Caudle''s leadership class that celebrate diversity, such the Asian New Year and black history month.

Ask any student about diversity and they''re sure to mention the annual multicultural assembly, essentially an international fashion and talent show based on voluntary student participation. Volleyball star Jamye Leleua opines, "That''s the best thing about this school. Last year, this Indian girl with beads did this dance. It was tight."

The seven-year-old student chapter of the National Coalition Building Institute (NCBI), a diversity awareness group, has perhaps the most direct interface with students on the issue of diversity. The 30 trained student leaders, along with faculty leader Elena Loomis, present a one-day "welcoming diversity workshop" for all incoming students. Student leaders say NCBI plays a crucial role in teaching students not to be racist. Jessica, who spent earlier years in Pacific Grove, goes so far as to say all schools should have an NCBI chapter. "In P.G., the first thing the students would say is, ''He''s black,'' and I was like, ''So what?'' It was the biggest part of how we thought about each other."

Despite these varied efforts, when a female student approached Lusk recently to complain of her lack of cultural representation in the noontime music scene, Lusk recognized the school hasn''t yet reached the mountaintop. Her next goals include starting a "cultural council" with representatives from every ethnic group on campus and flying the flags of all represented nationalities, United Nations- style.

"I don''t think we''ll ever arrive at the perfect place," says Lusk pensively. "That young lady coming to me made me hear clearly, that as much as we''re doing day-to-day--and that''s a lot--it''s still not enough. Students need to know that they''re honored here. There has to be a system in place that will more or less guarantee that each culture we have here has the opportunity to enjoy that which they know."