It was my first day at Reyburn Middle School in Clovis, California. Lunch hour was approaching and I could feel the wavering anticipation of the other students. It became so apparent that it was almost a tangible substance; something that could be seen and felt. Finally the bell rung and the students fled from their captives to rejoice with their friends and release the cathartic build-up from the day’s worries. I bought my lunch and to my dismay, as I panned my gaze across the courtyard, saw the invisible barriers the students had constructed to keep themselves within their respective groups. To my left, a group of Hmong students chatted and laughed with each other. In the center were a group of African American students that beheld a heavyset