Israel’s orphanages are often considered among the world’s best.
But in recent years, they have become a target for international criticism, with activists demanding they be closed.
Now, an investigation by New York magazine, based on interviews with children who were at St. Joses orphanage from 1996 to 2000, reveals how Israel’s public institutions have struggled to ensure children receive a safe and healthy start in life.
The St Josephs, located in a rural area in northern Israel, has become an international symbol of a broken system that, despite years of reform, has failed to deliver on the promises of a state that promises to be a safe place for all children, the New York report says.
The children interviewed in 1996 were the youngest of a family of four children.
The youngest, aged 13, was taken into the orphanage when she was about 3 years old, according to the report.
The report includes accounts of the lives of dozens of children who attended St. John’s, from children who survived by crawling on the floor to a group of about 20 who had no room for the rest of their siblings.
It details how a lack of beds and an emphasis on physical exercise led to the children’s growing health problems.
Some of the children had chronic health problems that included obesity, diabetes, and asthma.
Some suffered mental health problems, including depression and anxiety, the report says, and some were severely abused and traumatized.
The story of the St. Johns was told in the report, which was based on dozens of interviews with the children and their families, parents and teachers.
The article explores what it takes to build a healthy and safe home for children.
Here are excerpts from the story, based largely on the childrens accounts.
The Story Of The St Joses: A Childrens Life In Israel When I was little, my father was a hard worker who worked hard to feed the children at the orphanages.
He didn’t let anyone go without a good meal, which he cooked and cooked until his wife got sick of him.
We had an outdoor dining room where the children would sit, and my father would give them some treats.
I loved to eat and to listen to music, and I loved watching cartoons and movies.
I had my own room where I would sleep in my old bedroom and read books.
I enjoyed playing with toys and dolls.
When I went to visit my sister, she was always in her room reading a book.
I remember my father telling her that he loved to play with her dolls and would sometimes give her sweets and sweets to eat.
When she was old enough to read, she would come downstairs with a bag of sweets.
I thought that my father loved me and would make me happy.
He had my mother’s house for my mother and me.
He said that he was very proud of my mother, because he was her husband.
My father had the greatest love for my sister.
My sister and I were always together in the same room.
We used to play together.
I liked to ride my bicycle.
I always had the same toys with me, and when I came home from school, my mother would make us play.
Sometimes my father took me to the playground with him, and we played.
Sometimes he would take me to a place with the sun, and it was very warm.
My mother always told me to have my toys with her.
My brother, who was about 5, and his brother, also called me Uncle Jabba.
My parents would sometimes bring me to play in the sandbox, and the only time they would not let me play was when I was young.
I used to go into the yard and play in front of the barn, but then my father came in and told me that he didn’t want me to come out.
I didn’t like the way he told me.
I was always told to be quiet and to not cry, so I didn�t do that.
I just kept playing.
One day my father told me about my brother, and he said, You must go play with Uncle Jamba, you must.
My uncle Jabba was a big dog.
He was really friendly.
He wanted to play.
My aunt would sometimes go out with my father.
We went to the park together, and sometimes we would sit in the yard, but not in the sun.
The sun was so hot.
I wanted to be in the barn and play with my brother.
When Uncle Juba was about two years old he was in the front yard, playing, and then he started crying, so my mother brought him back into the house.
My grandmother brought him into the kitchen.
My grandfather was my father�s great-uncle, and she brought my uncle Juba to the house with her when she got sick.
The stories told in this article are a reflection of the complex realities that children face when they are growing up