When people ask me why I chose sociology as a major at The University of Texas, I tell them that sociology courses teach you how the world actually works. What is the impact of victim demographics on the outcome of a criminal case? Are we all equal in the eyes of the criminal justice system, or is there more to it? How much of a dream is the American Dream? What is the likelihood of financial success for the child of an intact, upper-middle-class family relative to a foster child struggling to find a place to live after her mother is sent to prison, and her father is nowhere to be found? You hear things that make you uncomfortable. Statistics that make you want to create change. But it's still academic because you're in a room full of the children of middle to upper class families, and a few exceptions that already overcame the patterns of trans-generational poverty.

I tried to teach the same concepts in my sociology class at Eastside and failed miserably. Our first topic was education, with an essential question that asked about the impact of race and affluence on educational achievement. The statistics are not shocking. Family structure affects the likelihood of academic success for children, with children of intact families receiving higher scores. More affluent kids tend to perform better in the classroom. White children are more likely to receive superior grades than their Hispanic counterparts. In a predominantly Hispanic, low income neighborhood with a high rate of non-intact families, and family traumas, these statistics are no longer interesting. They are intimidating, scary, devastating, and depressing. The foster child mentioned before that is struggling to find a place to live after her mother is sent to prison, and her father is nowhere to be found is very real. She's one of our stories in the book, and during class one day she said, "[s]o basically we're doomed."

That's the last thing any teacher wants to hear from a student. Still, as we discussed these issues more, our small class became closer and more and more we shared our personal stories that both confirmed and conflicted with the statistics. This storytelling time became the foundation for what would become Humans of Eastside, a collection of the experiences of the students at the school. The sociology class transformed from a study of the numbers, to a more personal, qualitative process that allowed students to share a side of them that statistics overlook. So the six of us, students and I, set out on a mission to learn about our Eastside family.

This book contains the students’ personal accounts of major events in their lives. As the readers of our first draft made clear in their reviews, these stories can be dark, and deeply troubling. That was not intended, but a natural consequence of the context in which these situations took place. Teary eyed and emotionally drained, those readers asked “[w]hat now?” They wanted a purpose, a next step. This is the next step. We are creating a dialogue so that students can share their experiences, without fearing the loss of the protective veil of secrecy. Through this process, many students are realizing for the first time that they are not alone in their homelessness, victimization, anxiety, and fear. We have listened to previously untold stories, we have cried, we have hugged each other, and we have grown. We hope that this book helps break down the walls that leave our students isolated. Once the undeserved feelings of shame and guilt are replaced by trust and empathy, we can start healing wounds and treating the scars that remain.
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Please remember one important fact. We did not search the campus far and wide. We did not pick out the most emotional of hundreds of contributions. Many of those were lost in the process due to language barriers, emotional blocks, and time limitations. What we offer is a sample of what many of our students deal with. The responses, poems, and illustrations are theirs. Welcome to Eastside.
                                                                   Armin Salek, Sociology Teacher at Eastside Memorial