Much of our rich farmland today is being left by conscientious developers in order to provide a rural fringe zone around our cities.

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Martin is managing a production line in a manufacturing plant in the midwest. martin has a quality and productivity problem in one part of the manufacturing process. he discovers that his workers aren't sure what to do. when he asks why they didn't ask questions, the universal reply is, "we midwesterners don't ask questions, we just do." martin decides to address this problem by offering recognition rewards for anyone who asks the most job-related questions each month that lead to process improvements. unfortunately, martin finds the program doesn't work. when he further questions his workers, he discovers that no one wants to be the first to ask questions. as a group, workers still feel that they should figure it out on their own and not ask questions. martin finds carmen, one of the workers that everyone else admires, and talks her into being the first to ask questions as part of the program. after about a month, several other people begin to submit questions, and soon everyone in the plant is asking questions. refer to case 6.1. martin's plan failed initially because he didn't consider the power of on attitudes.

When children heard an interesting story about a sympathetic and resourceful african-american child, the aim was to provide them with?

Consider the speakers in "the raven" and the speaker in "the song of wandering aengus." write two paragraphs to compare and contrast the voice in these two poems. how does the poet give the speaker in each poem a distinctive voice? what effect does this voice have in each poem? use examples from each poem to as evidence for your answer "the raven"once upon a midnight dreary, while i pondered, weak and weary,over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—while i nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,as of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.“‘tis some visitor,” i muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—only this and nothing more.”ah, distinctly i remember it was in the bleak december, and each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. eagerly i wished the morrow; —vainly i had sought to borrowfrom my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost lenore—for the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name lenore—nameless here for evermore.and the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtainthrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; so that now, to still the beating of my heart, i stood repeating“‘tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; this it is and nothing more.”"the song of wandering aengus." i went out to the hazel wood,because a fire was in my head,and cut and peeled a hazel wand,and hooked a berry to a thread; and when white moths were on the wing,and moth-like stars were flickering out,i dropped the berry in a streamand caught a little silver trout.when i had laid it on the floori went to blow the fire aflame,but something rustled on the floor, and some one called me by my name: it had become a glimmering girlwith apple blossom in her hairwho called me by my name and ranand faded through the brightening air.plz hurry