When I'm a Moshom

Written by David A. Robertson

Illustrated by Corrie Hill

Tundra Books

978-1-77488-174-3

40 pp.

Ages 3–7

May 26 2026 

 

This is a story of remembrance and celebration. It's also a story of expectation and promise.

From When I'm a Moshom, written by David A. Robertson, illustrated by Corrie Hill

The narrator remembers all the lovely memories he has with his moshom, his grandfather. He begins each memory with:

When I'm a moshom,

A long, long time from now,

before stating what he promises to do, "Just like Moshom did." He will watch his grandchildren in their activities, whether dancing, swimming, playing hockey, or doing gymnastics. But he will also share with them activities important to him. And so many of these shares are traditions and cultural legacies from past generations, whether hunting for muskrat, making bannock, telling stories, or speaking to them in Swampy Cree. There is also the feelings that Moshom extended to him, from a deep love to respect and pride. The narrator has not forgotten his moshom's legacy of teachings and devotion, and he intends to do the same for another generation, for his own grandchildren. 

From When I'm a Moshom, written by David A. Robertson, illustrated by Corrie Hill

David A. Robertsona is the author of picture books like The Song That Called Them Home (2023) and Little Shoes (2025), both illustrated by Maya McKibbin; middle grade novels like The Misewa Saga series (2021–2015); graphic novels including Sugar Falls: A Residential School Story (2021); and YA (e.g., Strangers, 2017). While his skill at writing different genres for a variety of audiences is clearly evident, David A. Robertson excels at embedding his stories in the traditions of his Indigenous culture. He does the same in When I'm A Moshom. Not only do we learn about that which his grandfather taught him and shared with him, we see a pride in a legacy of culture. From visiting his community, teaching traditions of celebration and food, and sharing in ceremonies, both moshoms, past and future, embrace the richness of their cultures and strive to impart it to their grandchildren. But it's not heavy-handed sermonizing. Instead, it is the gifting, almost a bequest, of that which is treasured and appreciated. 

From When I'm a Moshom, written by David A. Robertson, illustrated by Corrie Hill

While David A. Robertson's words are based in reminiscences of his moshom, When I'm a Moshom is not a story of sadness of loss. It is one of hope and promise for the future. It's a man looking to a time when he can emulate the memories he had with a beloved grandfather and create lasting ones with his own grandchildren. Illustrator Corrie Hill, a member of the Mohawk Nation, Bear Clan, from Six Nations of the Grand River, ensures that expectation of legacy in her digital artwork. While her art may seem restrained with its clean lines and shapes, Corrie Hill endows her illustrations with joy and family in simple touches. It could be hand-holding, a hug, a smile, laughing eyes, or attention. Because of the depth of heart in her artwork, I am in awe that When I'm a Moshom is her debut picture book.

From When I'm a Moshom, written by David A. Robertson, illustrated by Corrie Hill

When I'm a Moshom is a story that looks to the past to guide in the future. It's looking to that which was lived and experienced to help advise that which will be. Here, the narrator remembers his moshom and the ways his moshom made him feel loved and cherished. Through his actions and communications, his moshom made sure the child felt like he mattered. Whether taking them fishing, speaking to them in Swampy Cree, smudging them, or teaching them to play cribbage, this grandfather and this future moshom know what it means to be a caring elder and unexpected mentor to his grandchildren. How fortunate to be the nôsisimak of either moshom.

My Language Is a Garden

Written by E.G. Alaraj

Illustrated by Rachel Wada

Orca Book Publishers

978-1-4598-4065-2

32 pp.

Ages 6–8

February 2026 

 

How a child begins to learn a language is a complex process of exposure and comprehension. It involves being introduced to it from those who speak it and who cherish it. And when it's taught with love and reverence, it almost sacred. For this father sharing his language with his child, it's everything.

From My Language Is a Garden, written by E.G. Alaraj, illustrated by Rachel Wada

In evocative rhyming verse, E.G. Alaraj gives a father voice to embody his language with memories and meaning as he shares it with his daughter. It's obvious how much his language means to him, reminiscent of people and places, and tastes, smells, and sounds. E.G. Alaraj gives weight to this parent's words, both tender and passionate.  

My language roams the desert

And fills its pails with sand.

Builds castles, forts, and shelters

That stretch across the land. (pg. 12) 

From My Language Is a Garden, written by E.G. Alaraj, illustrated by Rachel Wada

This father is determined, but not vehement, drawing on images of cities and mountains, shores and markets, to convey what language can bring and conjure. There is magic in language, and he is earnest about sharing this with his child.

Our language, it will bloom—

Add sweetness to the air,

And tie my heart to yours,

 

So I'm with you everywhere. (pg. 27–29)

E.G. Alaraj's poem is emotional, as is the premise upon which it is based. Her author's note explains her husband's efforts to help their children learn and then retain their Arabic language. But My Language Is a Garden could speak to any parent or educator teaching a heritage language, hopeful of children holding that connection with culture and ancestry, as they balance contemporary influences outside of that language. But instead of drilling that language and forcing communication by using it, this father invites and illustrates with much affection and safety, coaxing his child to see and feel the language, just as the reader does with E.G. Alaraj's expressive words. The rhyming verses soothe and transport, as well as entice inwards and open worlds beyond. 

From My Language Is a Garden, written by E.G. Alaraj, illustrated by Rachel Wada

As dramatic as E.G. Alaraj's words are, Rachel Wada's illustrations give them artistic substance. Her art was created digitally and feels like watercolours, suspending people and places in different times and spaces. Rachel Wada, whose art has honoured books like I Am Wind: An Autobiography (Rachel Poliquin, 2024) and Shizue's Path (Mark Sakamoto, 2023), expresses strength and sensitivity with her use of line and shape. Whether in her gloriously lush gardens of poppies, in the rolling dunes of sand, or in the branches and stems of trees, Rachel Wada makes big locales seem personal and intimate, and the people within them connected.

 

As teachers and parents in Canada, we often use English language acquisition and learning as milestones for children, but learning a heritage language should be similarly appreciated. Beyond its purpose in communication, those languages help connect children with their families, their cultures, and their ancestors. It gives their lives colour and history, heart and identity. This father's language, depicted as a living entity that grows and feels, nurtures and responds, already enriches his life, connecting him with so much, and E.G. Alaraj makes us hopeful that he is able to cultivate that same abundance for his child.

It's a Mitig!

Written and illustrated by Bridget George

D & M Kids (Douglas & McIntyre)

978-1-771-624817

32 pp.

Ages 3–5

January 2026 

 

Giizis is rising, the day is brand new.

Let's learn some words nature's gathered for you. (pg. 3)

 

So begins Bridget George's It's a Mitig!, a picture book originally published in 2020 and now available as a board book, perfect for a concept book for teaching Ojibwe (Anishinaabemowin) words. 

 

With the rising of the sun (giizis), readers are taken from place to place to meet a variety of animals and plants. From the ashigan (bass) to the gaag (porcupine), Bridget George introduces Ojibwe words. She never uses the words "sun" or "bass" or "porcupine" but the children to whom the text is read will put the visual and textual clues together and determine what these new words mean. And, because she uses short rhyming verse, Bridget George makes the text playful and easy to remember. Moreover, her text is always informative and clear in evoking the name of each subject. For example, the text for a bird tells the reader that, "This animal whistles and lives in a tree. Building a nest, it's a bineshiinh." (pg. 11) Bineshiinh is obviously the Ojibwe word for "bird."

From It's a Mitig!, written and illustrated by Bridget George

Though Bridget George's digital illustrations in The Animals Choose a Leader (written by Richard Wagamese, 2024) and  The Inquisitive Raven (also by Richard Wagamese, 2025) are of a Woodland style, her artwork in It's a Mitig! is less defined as of an Indigenous art style. However, this Anishinaabe author-illustrator continues to embed readers fully in the natural world of trees and acorns, rivers and fish. By pairing new words with familiar natural elements like the moon (dibiki-giizis) or a river (ziibi), Bridget George teaches twelve Ojibwe names with informative and bright art.

From It's a Mitig!, written and illustrated by Bridget George

While the original book includes a glossary page with a pronunciation guide, these are not included in this edition of It's a Mitig! But, for a concept book, they are not really necessary. This is a board book, so most likely read by an older reader to a young child. Those to whom the book is read will pick up on the words by listening and looking at the pictures, not by reading them themselves. And they will learn these words. Whether these children are Anishinaabe or not, there will be learning of new words, and it will happen with colour, bright shapes, and descriptive rhyme.

From It's a Mitig!, written and illustrated by Bridget George

My Words Flew Away Like Birds

Written by Debora Pearson

Illustrated by Shrija Jain

Kids Can Press

978-1-5253-0318-0

40 pp.

Ages 4-8

October 2021

There are all kinds of fitting in. But when you're new to a country with a new language, it is especially hard. Not only are you missing your old home with its familiar people and places, you're in a new place where communication is near impossible. For the child in My Words Flew Away Like Birds, she is completely unprepared for the vacuum of language with which she and her parents must endure.

That was my world 

back then.

This little girl remembers the trees, the noisy market, her grandfather's bakery, and her friends. In preparation for their move, her mother teaches her some rudimentary phrases that should help break the ice, like "Hello, how are you?," and "It was nice to meet you." 

From My Words Flew Away Like Birds by Debora Pearson, illus. by Shrija Jain

The words felt strange 

and lumpy 

in my mouth.

But, though she is amazed by the things she sees, like snow and a dog in a coat and booties, everyone speaks so fast in her new country and she cannot grasp the words or their meaning. She tries desperately to watch and listen but she feels so lost. 

From My Words Flew Away Like Birds by Debora Pearson, illus. by Shrija Jain

It's not until the next spring when she helps a little girl who falls off a playground swing that she can use one of her learned phrases, experiment with echoing the other child's words, and finally make the connection that makes her feel she belongs.

Many of us know what it's like to travel to new places where different languages are spoken. If we're considerate, we try our best to communicate in their language but appreciate it when the locals help us out by speaking in ours. But for immigrants, immersion in a new culture with a new language is undoubtedly daunting. Not only do they have to navigate bureaucratic and new cultural norms, they often must do so in a new language. For children who are desperate to make connections at school or in their neighbourhoods, how do they do this without words? Fortunately, what the child in My Words Flew Away Like Birds realizes eventually is that kindness and play have no language barriers and learning only happens when mistakes are made. These are both simple and complex messages and Debora Pearson shares them with a convincing text rich in auditory embellishments and striking dialogue, emphasizing what is most important to the young child. She'll remember the sounds she hears and the muffled vocalizations, hand-lettered for emphasis, until they can become words to her, words that don't fly away but instead are ones she can grab hold of.

From My Words Flew Away Like Birds by Debora Pearson, illus. by Shrija Jain

Artist Shrija Jain's pen and ink illustrations, which were coloured digitally, underscore the importance of the words and the connectivity between child and place. Using only pastel shades of blue, rose, purple and orange to offset the vivid black details of hand-lettered words, the immigrant family and those with whom they interact, and sparse landscape elements, Shrija Jain demonstrates what is truly important: connection through communication in all its forms and efforts.

This child may feel like the words of her first language flew away but she does find some new words and is delighted to move forward and recognize that "these words are here to stay." As with much learning, it happens with time and practice, and that includes mistakes, and the making of connections to make that learning worthwhile.

The Playgrounds of Babel

Written by JonArno Lawson

Illustrated by Piet Grobler

Groundwood Books

978-1-77306-036-1

32 pp.

Ages 5-10

August 2019

From JonArno Lawson, the author of the award-winning Sidewalk Flowers (illustrated by Sydney Smith, Groundwood, 2015), comes another important story about differences and communication that demonstrates we are far less disparate than appearances may suggest.

From The Playgrounds of Babel by JonArno Lawson, illus. by Piet Grobler

The story begins with a kerchief-clad woman telling a story to a group of children. Her language, in the hand-drawn speech bubbles, is a series of lines, dots, and shapes. One boy translates for his friend, who clearly does not understand the woman, and so begins an updated version of the Tower of Babel biblical story. The dark-haired translator shares how at one time everyone spoke the same language until they attempted to build a tower to reach God. In response, God sent a dragon to destroy the tower and confounded their speech into many different languages. The boy's fair-haired friend interjects about not believing in God and knowing there's no dragon in the story but his friend persists. He focuses his story, or rather the woman's story, on two girls who suddenly cannot speak to one another.

From The Playgrounds of Babel by JonArno Lawson, illus. by Piet Grobler

Amidst their crying at this turn of events, the girls hug and realize that the songs they'd sung before could be the commonality they need. Though the words are different, they now "had a way to translate, because they knew they were singing exactly the same thing in two different languages."

From The Playgrounds of Babel by JonArno Lawson, illus. by Piet Grobler

Author JonArno Lawson explains the origins of his story in his Author's Note and, while it has a personal foundation from his own childhood and from the inquisitiveness of his own daughter, The Playgrounds of Babel extends far beyond these sparks. It speaks to the opportunities our differences provide to make our world richer not weaker. Throughout the story, a variety of languages are "spoken" from the birds who speak in terms of berries or caterpillars and snakes who speak in Ss as well as backward Ss. Everyone has a language that may be different from another but still allows them to communicate. Even in the world from which the boys and storyteller speak, there is more than just the words. There is imagination and the need to suspend disbelief and to see that God could whistle for a dragon to return to the heavens.

South African artist Piet Grobler provides the illustrations that blend harshness with wonder in a story within a story. I like that the contemporary setting from which the boys and the storyteller speak is dark and stark, until the end, and the world of the two girls is colourful and diverse. It reminds us that the storyteller brings the richness of colour to a story, even if it's one based in conflict or difficulty. Using watercolour and ink (including the dip pen to produce lines of varying thickness), Piet Grobler contrasts the two worlds and changes the reader's perspective repeatedly.

The Playgrounds of Babel has a powerful message about communication and differences but it's also about telling stories and realizing that anything can be real if we believe.

The Marrow Thieves

Written by Cherie Dimaline

Dancing Cat Books/Cormorant

978-1-77086-486-3

231 pp.

Ages 14+

2017

Poisoning your own drinking water, changing the air so much the earth shook and melted and crumbled, harvesting a race for medicine. (pg. 47)

This is the world in which Frenchie is trying to survive.  After his father had gone with the Council to the Southern Metropolitan City, hopeful of enacting some change, and their mom passed, it was just Frenchie and his older brother Mitch evading the Recruiters, truancy officers seeking Indigenous people to place in their new version of residential schools.  Seems that, though all were highly impacted by the stresses of water shortages, climatic shifts and conflict, non-Indigenous people lost the ability to dream and sought out Indigenous Peoples for their bone marrow as a source for that ability.  What actually happened in the schools, though, was the stuff of rumours and nightmares.

When Mitch sacrifices himself to the Recruiters to save Frenchie, the teen heads north and joins a  group headed by a man named Miigwans and the Elder Minerva, along with teens Chi-Boy and Wab, twelve-year-old twins Tree and Zheegwon, and a young boy Slopper and seven-year-old RiRi.  Along with a new arrival, Rose, the mixed group of Cree, Métis and more, from the east coast and the west lands and everywhere in between, work to stay safe, learn "old-timey" skills like hunting and homesteading but also language which has been lost.  Each comes with their own creation story, framing their lives with the scars of their histories and the jewels of their heritage.  How they will outrun their pasts and those who seek to harm them while making some future in a world gone terribly wrong can only be told by those telling the story and dreaming.

While the environmental degradation alone could result in the dystopia of The Marrow Thieves, it is but a fraction of the agony of the world Cherie Dimaline has created.  It is a world that has gone beyond decline and into catastrophic collapse.  The heinous racism against Aboriginal Peoples coupled with the carnage perpetrated against them is terrifying but not unfamiliar.  By telling this story in a dystopian world set decades into the future, Cherie Dimaline tells much more about the past.  Still, within that horror, there is a wisdom of self and others, a pocket of compassion and understanding that might be the only hope.

"...running only works of you're moving towards something, not away. Otherwise, you'll never get anywhere." (pg. 217)

Moreover, Cherie Dimaline tells it with such depth of feeling and imagery that The Marrow Thieves becomes a lyrical epic.

Out here stars were perforations revealing the bleached skeleton of the universe through a collection of tiny holes. And surrounded by these silent trees, beside a calming fire, I watched the bones dance.  This was our medicine, these bones, and I opened up and took it all in. And dreamed of north. (pg. 9)

The accolades for The Marrow Thieves have been robust and far-reaching.  They include winning the 2017 Governor General for Young People's Literature and the 2017 Kirkus Prize; a nomination for the Forest of Reading's White Pine Award; selection as The Globe and Mail Best Book; and most recently selection for CBC's 2018 Canada Reads battle of the books. The Marrow Thieves deserves each honour and more as does its creator Cherie Dimaline for weaving a cautionary story of sorrow and history with a future that still has a sliver of reverie.

Nimoshom and His Bus

Written by Penny M. Thomas

Illustrated by Karen Hibbard

HighWater Press

978-1-55379-708-1

24 pp.

Ages 4-8

October 2017

I think that it's important that every child be able to see themselves and the components of their lives in literature.  Nimoshom and His Bus will speak volumes to many children, whether Cree or bused students, in its simple story of a Cree grandfather, Nimoshom, who drives a school bus.

From Nimoshom and His Bus 

by Penny M. Thomas 

illus. by Karen Hibbard

Nimoshom's day begins outside of his bus with his dog and the narrator explaining that Nimoshom means my grandfather in Cree.

From Nimoshom and His Bus 

by Penny M. Thomas

 illus. by Karen Hibbard

As children get on the bus and they travel to school, Nimoshom greets them and comments on the day, occasionally having to remind the students to sit down, Api, or to hurry up, Kinapi.  We also learn the Cree words for thank you–as he tells the children who share gifts with him– and yes, no, wait, and the all-purpose Ekosi that means okay, that's it or amen.  The book concludes with a brief Cree word list of the thirteen terms emphasized in this book.

From Nimoshom and His Bus 

by Penny M. Thomas 

illus. by Karen Hibbard

While Penny M. Thomas' story is not a plot-driven allegory or a message-based lesson, Nimoshom and His Bus is a sweet introduction to some simple Cree words in the context of a common-place activity for many children.  This could have been an illustrated dictionary of Cree words but Penny M. Thomas, who is of Cree-Ojibway heritage, was able to give a familiar frame of reference which will help all children connect with the story.  Karen Hibbard who uses watercolours and pastels to create a gentle background for Nimoshom's day on his bus gives the story a grassroots mood, highly appropriate for a routine day of activity and interaction for this bus driver and his charges.  It's very relatable.

There is much to learn from Nimoshom, whether as a bus student or a reader of the book, and it's all done gracefully, not unlike Nimoshom himself.

From Nimoshom and His Bus 

by Penny M. Thomas 

illus. by Karen Hibbard

🚌 🚌 🚌 🚌 🚌

For those learning or teaching the Cree language, the publisher has provided a Cree pronunciation guide in pdf format as well as a downloadable lesson plan at http://www.portageandmainpress.com/product/nimoshom-and-his-bus/ to further the educational value of this picture book.

Stolen Words

Written by Melanie Florence

Illustrated by Gabrielle Grimard

Second Story Press

978-1-77260-037-7

24 pp.

Ages 6-9

September 2017

A young girl's simple request of her grandfather to learn how to say a word in Cree reveals much about the system that stole his language from him and so many Aboriginal children but more about the affection and courage of those who have the grit to ensure those words do not remain silent or withheld forever.

From Stolen Words 

by Melanie Florence 

illus. by Gabrielle Grimard

It's evident from the words and actions of the seven-year-old girl and her grandfather that their relationship is a cherished one.  She is exuberant from her day at school, pleased with what she's made and learned, and comforted with his attention as he escorts her home, holding her hand and carrying her backpack.  But when she asks, "How do you say grandfather in Cree?" his response is a lesson in history and one muted with hurt and needless shame.  As his granddaughter continues to ask "Where did they take them?", "Who took you away, Grandpa?" and "Where did they take you, Grandpa?", her grandfather tells the history, heartbreaking in the capture of the Aboriginal children's words like a raven in the cage of Gabrielle Grimard's grim illustrations of the residential school.

From Stolen Words

 by Melanie Florence

 illus. by Gabrielle Grimard

But his hurt and lack of words does not deter the child's curiosity or compassion, and she brings home a worn book titled "Introduction to Cree" so that together they might speak the language of home and release the formerly imprisoned language.

Nôsisim, he whispered.
Granddaughter.

The word felt familiar in his mouth.

It felt like his home. His mother.

As the grandfather reconnects with his past and makes a new connection with his young granddaughter, I wept for his loss, his family, his struggle and his courage to take steps forward. It's an emotionally charged series of interactions and memories that are pure Melanie Florence.  They will astound readers and sadden them, while encouraging healing and learning without shame or anger.  Her words, thankfully not stolen, make for leaps forward for those whose language was pilfered from them as vulnerable children. Gabrielle Grimard's illustrations are similarly strong and soft, taking the reader into the intimate relationship between a grandfather harbouring hurts and a child wanting to help.

Melanie Florence took on the gut-wrenching issue of missing Indigenous women in her award-winning picture book Missing Nimâmâ which was divinely illustrated by François Thisdale (Clockwise Press, 2015) and similarly addresses the emotional trauma of the residential schools in stifling language.  While the generations after the residential schools are still affected by their inconceivable legacy, the healing will come through them.  The grandfather's words may have been stolen but his loving granddaughter is the means by which they will be restored.

From Stolen Words 

by Melanie Florence 

illus. by Gabrielle Grimard

Norman, Speak!

by Caroline Adderson

Illustrated by Qin Leng

Groundwood Books

978-1-55498-322-3

32 pp.

Ages 4-7

Release April, 2014

It takes a big heart to adopt a stray at a shelter because he's been there the longest.  And the joy he exudes, wagging his whole rump, is so clear that the young boy and his parents are sure that they've made a good choice.  Norman is funny, he's friendly, and he's happy.  However, his lack of responsiveness to their commands have them thinking that, "He just wasn't very smart."

But an incident in the park reveals that smartness isn't what Norman lacks: it's English.  His language of understanding is Chinese!  Admirably, mom, dad and son sign up for Chinese classes at the local church.  Surprisingly, "We didn't feel very smart the next Saturday morning in the basement of the church.  Or the Saturday after that.  All the other kids were smart."

Fortunately, Norman loves them anyway.

With Norman, Speak!, award-winning author Caroline Adderson has expanded her repertoire from early readers (Very Serious Children, Scholastic Canada, 2007), middle-grade fiction (Middle of Nowhere, Groundwood, 2012), young adult fiction (Film Studies, Annick, 2010) and adult fiction (The Sky is Falling, Thomas Allen Publishers, 2010) into picture books and we're so glad she has.  Her versatility has provided her the skills to tell important stories in age-appropriate media.  And with Qin Leng's familiar colourful, but never bold, fountain brush and ink illustrations, the message of "smartness" not being equal to understanding is told without judgement or fear.

This message is an important one for children to learn, especially if they perceive that they themselves are not regarded as smart.  This would be especially hard to deal with if that impression is given by a parent or teacher or other respected individual.  Too often, we misjudge and attribute lack of comprehension to lack of intelligence.  Wrong!  Caroline Adderson brings this revelation to Norman's people slowly but they get it in the end. They may have been quick to judge Norman but they learn soon enough that understanding has nothing to do with "smarts" but rather familiarity and regular opportunities for practice. Thankfully Norman doesn't hold their lack of Chinese against them.  Ultimately they are a perfect match, like Caroline Adderson's text and Qin Leng's illustrations, but one based in acceptance, not achievement.