An American in Tehran: a 19-year-old from the Midwest who spends summers with his family in Iran talks about how Iranian teens bend the rules to have fun.

The writer, a college sophomore in the United States, is not using his name out of concern for the safety of his family.

Since I was born, my family has traveled to Iran every other summer to visit relatives. My parents were born there and, like many people of their generation, left just before the 1979 revolution. I was born and raised in the U.S.

Even though I speak Farsi, kids in Iran see me as American. But that doesn't mean they're hostile toward me. Far from it. Kids are often eager to compare notes about our different lifestyles and marvel at things we take for granted, like coed schools.

Despite many cultural differences, kids in affluent northern Tehran, which is where my relatives live, spend their time much the same way I do in America. Most days, I meet with friends for a game of soccer (only guys play). Afterward, everyone hits the corner grocery for juice and non-alcoholic beer (alcohol is illegal). We talk about girls and soccer and music. The Internet and MTV satellite broadcasts (also illegal but ubiquitous) allow kids in Iran to keep up with popular American music and trends.

Some days we make our way to Jordan Avenue. At 5 p.m. on a weekday, the scene there is chaos. Jordan Avenue, one of the city's largest streets, is lined with high schools and colleges, making it a favorite after-school hangout for teens in Tehran.

'DATING ON THE RUN'

Iran's religious government forbids most public interactions between boys and girls before marriage, and the religious police are out to make sure there is little public contact. This makes dating (or even hanging out) difficult. But the sudden river of teenagers on Jordan Avenue after school is tough to control, and, like teenagers everywhere, they want to get to know each other.

What ensues is a sort of primal social frenzy: Cars full of girls drive by cars full of guys for just long enough to exchange some words through an open window and maybe a phone number. Kids with the hottest counterfeit designer sunglasses risk provoking the wrath of the religious police, as they rock out to European techno music with the windows down, keeping one step ahead of the cops.

The excitement is heightened by the fact that all of us are in utter violation of Iran's social laws with this hyperactive "dating on the run."

Jordan Avenue isn't the only place kids have to be sneaky to enjoy. If we want to go to one of Tehran's massive shopping malls, we have to ask a progressive-looking elderly couple to walk in with us, because the police at the door won't let in teenagers unaccompanied by adults. (Again, this is to minimize the risk of boys and girls meeting.)

Kids in Tehran spend a lot of time trying to circumvent the government's restrictive laws that aim to separate girls and boys. But with a bit of work--and a lot of cunning--the teens I've met in Iran manage to create their own version of normalcy.