Blending Dreams With Traditions : Graduates: Young immigrants find difficulty in adjusting to greater social freedoms in America.

After leaving the secure atmosphere of elementary school, what happens to Cambodian refugee children as they prepare to enter an adult world? Some simply trade war zones--from the killing fields of Cambodia to the Asian gang wars of Van Nuys. Most find that adjusting to greater social freedoms in the United States, such as dating and extended friendships, depends upon their parents’ attitudes toward those freedoms.

“I’m not supposed to have a boyfriend,” said Pinthang Ouk, a sophomore at Grant High School in Van Nuys who entered Hazeltine Avenue School when she was 6. “In our way, if a guy likes you, your parents have to watch after you and stuff until you get married. If you go out with different boyfriends before you get married, it means you’re not a real virgin--even if you just go out on a date.”

Pinthang, 15, lives in the Vallerio Gardens apartment complex in Van Nuys with her mother, aunt, grandmother and two sisters. Six concrete buildings at the complex house about 300 Cambodians, who are packed 10 to 15 each into two-bedroom apartments. Central courtyards harbor fledgling gardens where scores of children play, spilling out into an alley that dissects the buildings.

Pinthang said she agrees with her mother’s and grandmother’s attitudes about dating. “It’s hard, because I can’t usually go out with my friends--my mom wants me around the house,” she said. “But I wouldn’t want to hang around a lot of girls who flirt and stuff. I want to stick with the girls who are just like me.”

Pinthang said traditional Cambodian dance, which she learned in Phnom Penh, where she was born, helps her through adolescence. She now dances with a local troupe at festivals and schools. “My grandma’s mother was a dancer in the temples for royalty in Cambodia,” she said. “So now, when I dance, it’s like generation to generation, we’re passing the tradition down.”

After graduating from high school, Pinthang is thinking of becoming a flight attendant or a “lady cop.”

“But my mom told me to forget it,” she said, flipping the pages of “Dynamic Anatomy and Physiology” while her two younger sisters took turns combing her shoulder-length hair. “She said to work in an office or something. My grandma said that too. They want to keep me safe.

“I want to go to college, but my grandma doesn’t want me to go. She doesn’t think a girl needs that much education. Only guys do. I don’t agree with her. I’m going to go anyway.”

Roatha Buth, 18, lives next door to Pinthang with his mother, an aunt, five sisters and three brothers. He was kicked out of 10th grade at Van Nuys High School earlier this year and later spent one month in juvenile hall for attempting to break into a car, a charge he denies. Roatha Buth has no plans to return to school, often thinks of getting a job as a fast-food cook in San Bernardino, where he has friends, and sometimes dreams of becoming a firefighter.

“When I first come here, the gangs make me fight,” he said, smoothing his T-shirt, emblazoned with a Corona beer label. His thick, black hair was pulled back with a blue rubber band and around his neck hung three gold chains, one sporting a dime-size Mercedes-Benz symbol. “Like they hit you up. They go, ‘Where you from?’ I didn’t know or understand who they were. First there were Mexican gangs, then Asian gangs.”

Roatha Buth said he was a member of the Asian Boys gang for two years when he was 14 and 15. “They jump you in, they jump you out,” he said, describing the initiation process. “When they jump you in, three of them start to hit you and you got to hit back for 30 seconds. And then you start hanging around them. I’d rather be a fireman. Lots of action. But you have to graduate and all that from high school.”

Roatha Buth’s immediate concern is his living arrangements. His mother recently told him he must leave the house unless he gets a job. “I just want to get out of this apartment,” he said, glancing at a corner Buddhist altar laden with incense, mostly hidden by a towering ensemble of audio equipment. “I want to go somewhere far away. Too much trouble. Screaming, crying, arguments. Even Maria, my girlfriend, screams at me.

“You can’t go nowhere. You can’t get out of this place. Only like in Beverly Hills it’s quiet, I think. There are no gangs over there. Or if you lived in a house, it would be quiet then, I think.”