Recruitment and roundups -- The transit camps -- Transport, arrival and the March decrees -- Life and work in agriculture and factories -- Health, illness and hospitalization -- Pregnancy and childbearing -- Last days of the war and DP camps

The story of women's liberation as told by their changing dress – in the public gaze and in private

""Is this intervention effective?" This is a question that social workers have asked themselves since the birth of the profession and which social welfare agents have asked since the birth of our country. In our attempts at advancing the social welfare of the client and society, it is essential that we constantly evaluate the impact of our interventions. Over the years, however, the above question has yielded some surprising answers. During the Colonial era, those individuals suffering from mental illness who demonstrated a proclivity for aberrant and sometimes harmful behaviors were locked away in barns or small rooms. During the late 1800s in New York City, social welfare agents organized the orphan trains, sending poor immigrant children-many who were not orphans-out to the more "wholesome" environment of family farms in the Midwest. In the 1950s, social workers placed themselves in the role of social police by conducting midnight 'raids' (i.e. unscheduled visits at midnight) at the homes of welfare recipients to ensure that welfare mothers were not benefiting from a man's company in secret, and thus, disqualifying themselves from receiving aid. Looking upon these interventions with our present eyes, from a viewpoint firmly grounded in notions of self-determination and empowerment, our profession can easily see the moral failings of these interventions. From these examples, as a profession we are able to note that simply applying good intentions-by themselves-are not adequate to ensure effective and worthy interventions. We are also able to note that simply having an outcome measure is not enough to ensure the worthiness of an intervention, as the examples above contained easily measured outcomes"--

Concentrating on the general shift away from color that began around 1800, Harvey traces the transition to black from the court of Burgundy in the fifteenth century, through sixteenth-century Venice, seventeenth-century Spain and the Netherlands. He uses paintings from Van Eyck and Degas to Francis Bacon, religious art, period lithographs, wood engravings, costume books, newsphotos, movie stills and related sources in his compelling study of the meaning of color and clothes.

This book offers a broad-ranging account of contemporary American culture, the complex network of symbols, practices, and beliefs at the heart of our society. Lundin explores the historical background of some of our "postmodern" culture's central beliefs and considers their crucial ethical and theological implications.

Snappsy the alligator is having a normal day when a pesky narrator steps in to spice up the story. Is Snappsy reading a book ... or is he making CRAFTY plans? Is Snappsy on his way to the grocery store ... or is he PROWLING the forest for defenseless birds and fuzzy bunnies? Is Snappsy innocently shopping for a party ... or is he OBSESSED with snack foods that start with the letter P? What's the truth? Snappsy the Alligator (Did Not Ask to Be in This Book) is an irreverent look at storytelling, friendship, and creative differences, perfect for fans of Mo Willems.