Shirley: An Indian Residential School Story

Written and illustrated by Joanne Robertson with Shirley (Fletcher) Horn

Second Story Press

978-1772604542

70 pp.

Ages 9–12

Releases February 10, 2026 

 

Shirley, who originally came from Moose Factory, before moving with her family to the southern area of Treaty 9, on the Missinaibi River, remembers being happy. They hunted, fished, trapped, gathered food, and grew food in their garden. But when she was five, the Indian agent came, declaring that since her parents had separated, she and her siblings, which included three-year-old Billy and older sister Frances, would be going with him.  

From Shirley: An Indian Residential School Story, written by Joanne Robertson with Shirley (Fletcher) Horn, illustrated by Joanne Robertson

They were taken by canoe to St. John's Indian Residential School in Chapleau. The first order of business was separating the children into different areas, and Shirley declares that "separating us was their first act of cruelty." (pg. 11) As Shirley and her little brother were too young for school, she became the companion for the minister's young daughter, and Billy was kept outside with the chickens.

From Shirley: An Indian Residential School Story, written by Joanne Robertson with Shirley (Fletcher) Horn, illustrated by Joanne Robertson

When she was finally able to go to school, Shirley loved learning and felt that "being in the classroom took away some of the loneliness." (pg. 17) She saw her siblings at church and at mealtimes, but never being allowed to speak to them was difficult. 

From Shirley: An Indian Residential School Story, written by Joanne Robertson with Shirley (Fletcher) Horn, illustrated by Joanne Robertson

When St. John's Residential School was condemned, the children were moved to Shingwauk Indian Residential School in Sault Ste. Marie. They were able to see their father again, who presented them with generous bags of apples and oranges—which the supervisors took to oversee—and their aunt and uncle who "filled up more than our bellies in our brief visit. They filled up our spirits with good feelings." (pg. 18)

 

At their new school, their routines were quite strict. (The inside front and back covers display "Pupils' 'Timetable,' Shingwauk Home" with times, bells and activities, from workers to work  to the marching to dormitories and the saying of grace, laid out.) And, though Shirley and her friends find ways to endure the rigorous nature of their lives—having competitions, daring each other, and grabbing moments of joy when possible—Shirley missed her family very much. Not surprising that Shirley with others attempted several escapes, though hers were not successful being children so far from home. 

From Shirley: An Indian Residential School Story, written by Joanne Robertson with Shirley (Fletcher) Horn, illustrated by Joanne Robertson

The stories of residential schools are plentiful and always horrific. For children to be taken from those who loved them and to be forced to dissociate from family and their culture and heritage is heartbreaking. Shirley (Fletcher) Horn's story, as shared with Joanne Robertson (who wrote and illustrated The Water Walker, 2017), is an honest portrayal of her experiences, but still told in an age-appropriate tone. Enough stories of survivors of residential schools and of those who were victimized in those schools are plentiful and tragic. But, because Joanne Robertson and Shirley (Fletcher) Horn take Shirley's reminiscences, good and bad, and focus on her perspective on them and how she dealt with everything, what comes across most importantly is her resilience. As a child, she made herself think of other things, to delve into her learning, and to "shut off my loneliness." (pg. 30) She fought off bullies, fear, and, most of all, that loneliness. She is strong and gutsy, and she endured.

 

The images in Shirley: An Indian Residential School Story are a unique blend of photographs, many from Algoma University archives of Shingwauk Residential School Centre and from Joanne Robertson, and drawings by Joanne Robertson. By mixing two media, she helps us focus on Shirley and the other children, and less on their grim circumstances. By limiting colour to the children and any positive circumstances they appreciated like a confirmation dress, or the river banked by trees, Joanne Robertson reminds us of where the goodness is. 

 

Shirley: An Indian Residential School Story is an important addition to all compilations of middle grade stories about Indigenous children in residential schools. By telling her story, just as she did to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, Shirley (Fletcher) Horn's has found a way to share for those who endured the same and for those who cannot imagine it and need to be informed. 

The Friendship Blanket

Written by Leonarda Carranza

Illustrated by Erika Rodriguez Medina

North Winds Press

978-1-0397-0346-9

32 pp.

Ages 4–8

July 2025

 

There's a reason blankets show up so often in children's literature. They offer warmth, comfort, and security. They are more than a covering. They are a sanctuary. And for this child, it's also a connection to her former life and that of her future.

From The Friendship Blanket, written by Leonarda Carranza, illustrated by Erika Rodriguez Medina

When the little girl and her Mami move far away from her Abuelita and the home she has known, her grandmother gifts her with a blanket so that she can always have a piece of home with her. Though Mami tries to reassure the child by offering to paint her new room orange and pink like the sunsets at home and by telling her she'll make new friends, the little girl still experiences some trepidation and much longing for her old home.

...I miss Abuelita so much my chest burns.

 

From The Friendship Blanket, written by Leonarda Carranza, illustrated by Erika Rodriguez Medina

When she attends her new school for the first time, she does not feel welcome. Some children laugh and point, and, even when she tries to connect, they don't seem to understand her.  Her mother tries to reassure her as does her family in her dreams. But it's not until the girl notices that "Lonely is everywhere," that she sees a way to connect with a classmate in a meaningful way and use her Abuelita's blanket to bolster that connection.

 

Brampton's Leonarda Carranza was born in El Salvador and has used her experiences to fuel her writing. (Her first book was Abuelita and Me, a Blue Spruce-award nominee.) While The Friendship Blanket has a distinct Latino flavour to it, it is a story of any child who is uprooted from family or from the home they'd always enjoyed. Her Abuelita and her mother do the right stuff to ease the move and transition to a new place but it's a process that is dependent on so many factors, from the school and the kids there, to the opportunity to stay connected with those left behind, and even the understanding of the adults in her life. Leonarda Carranza makes the mother sympathetic and loving but she can only do so much. The little girl has to step up, which she does, by finding a way to facilitate those new connections. Thankfully, she has that blanket from her Abuelita. It's bright and beautiful and it's a wonderful device for sharing with and relating to others.

 

Erika Rodriguez Medina, also of Latina heritage (Mexico), ensures that this is a story of a child from a Spanish-speaking community. From the way the child's hair is braided to the depth of her skin tone, and the bold colours and patterns of her blanket, Erika Rodriguez Medina makes sure that we see this as a child who has moved to a very different community. Most of her classmates, perhaps even her teacher, cannot appreciate her heritage and the richness of her experiences; instead, they make her feel invisible. Erika Rodriguez Medina helps us feel her hurt through her expressive face and body language, but we can also appreciate the power of her family connections. 

From The Friendship Blanket, written by Leonarda Carranza, illustrated by Erika Rodriguez Medina

Most parents and caregivers know the value of a special blanket for a child or a senior, and for everyone in between. It can help provide the comforts of place and people in a way that very few things can. And if you're lucky enough to have blanket that does double-duty as a friendship spark, all the better,

Leon Levels Up (Orca Currents)

Written by Paul Coccia

Orca Book Publishers

978-1-459837355

112 pp.

Ages 9-12

RL 2.3

February 2024

 

Twelve-year-old Leon Garcia considers himself a low-level kid gamer. He's not low-level because of his game playing but because of who he is. All he sees is that he's chubby, his mom cuts his hair, he wears his cousin's hand-me-downs, and he uses outdated tech. So, when his classmate Nico Saito, son of the founder of video-game developer Pix Grid, approaches him and invites him to game together on the weekend, Leon is surprised, pleased, and nervous. Leon figures this could be his chance to level up his life, or at least his coolness.

 

But a day of gaming is not just hanging out at Nico's house. Instead, Nico takes Leon to Pix Grid where they meet up with Gabs Lucas in the lab to play a next-level virtual-reality game which is so immersive the two boys suit up in full-body tracking outfits before being dropped into tanks filled with nanobots. Though Leon's thrilled with how strong and tall and skilled he is as an elf archer, Gabs tells him she's lost the connection with Nico who may have damaged his helmet when he plunged headfirst into the tank. And with the nanobots programmed to fill every available space, there's the danger of hurting Nico.  The only way to get them out safely is for Leon to complete the mission of saving the kidnapped Prince SpearMint from the dragon Lord Tachi. Oh, and before the timer runs out.

Leon Levels Up has all the excitement of a video game adventure in which Leon evades and fights a dragon, an old hag, and some ogres, while figuring out clues and strategy to rescue Prince SpearMint. As with many quests, the learning is in the doing, and Leon is plunged into this VR game with its life-or-death outcome with only his wits and character. He might have hoped that gaming with Nico would level up his game, but his cleverness and perseverance demonstrate he's already top drawer. 

Author Paul Coccia, whose other books include I Got You Babe, The Player, and On the Line with Eric Walters, often gives voice to young people who question who they are and whether they are good enough, and that's many tweens and teens. (It's also most adults.) Except for the narcissistic and the very confident, we compare ourselves to others and whether we pass muster. When faced with the good-looking and rich Nico Saito, Leon turns to look within and take stock. He ruminates about how he will be seen and judged, while judging himself. Only when he's in the "Dragon Hunt" game does he eventually set that aside, first appreciating his new persona and skills but ultimately recognizing that it was him, low-level Leon, who won the game. Paul Coccia takes us for a wild ride in Leon Levels Up, all at a lower reading level than typical for the middle grade reader, but never forgets to remind us that Leon never needed to advance to a higher level of self. For a twelve-year-old, he was already there.

The Moon Watched It All

Written by Shelley A. Leedahl

Illustrated by Aino Anto

Red Deer Press

978-0-88995-537-0

32 pp.

Ages 5-9

February 2019

The moon may watch over all of us, sometimes only shining light or hiding in the dark, but, like a watchful deity, it is omnipresent, guiding with a subtle beacon for those seeking direction.

An orphaned boy with only vague memories of a woman's voice and a gentle hand survives alone seeking food and clothing wherever and living in the forest. Elsewhere a woman known as Miranda lives in her home near the woods, rocking and talking to the moon.

She praised it, like she once prized her children, in a time before a time that was then.

From The Moon Watched It All by Shelley A. Leedahl, illus. by Aino Anto

After a man brutally chases the boy away–"Get you, Boy"–he runs far away, finding shelter in a chicken coop and food in an adjacent garden. The moon whispers to Miranda of the boy in the garden but it is not until she is ready to invite him inside for better food and shelter that the two become true companions, finding a way to be themselves with each other.

The Moon Watched It All may be marketed for ages five to nine but I think it is an allegory of such depth that it can and should be read beyond those ages. At its foundation, it is a story of an orphan boy, scorned and rejected, who finds a home with a woman alone who talks to the moon. But, in each, they find the family that they have lost.

From The Moon Watched It All by Shelley A. Leedahl, illus. by Aino Anto

Shelley A. Leedahl's intense story may be in prose form but its intensity parallels that of poetry, steeped in the melancholy of Miranda ...

Her face in the moon's unwavering spotlight. She was a lake unruffled, the coal fire's glow. 

... and the isolation and trepidation of the boy.

Night came calling, and he thought of boots, of heels, and the finger-quick hands. He thought of the children with sticks, and villagers who possessed the power to look right through him. The boy held out his own hand, and could not keep it steady.

From The Moon Watched It All by Shelley A. Leedahl, illus. by Aino Anto

There is a stillness of person and place that seeps into the story which is far more extensive in text and lyricism than in books typically for the very young. As such it has a strength of message that is both serene and profound. It bears being read over and over to capture the importance of the text and its voice of solemnity and grace.  I don't know if that comes from Shelley A. Leedahl's skill as a poet but her words lull and inspire and tug and reassure.

The same goes for Aino Anto's illustrations that take the readers through the forest and beneath the moon, watching and waiting as the boy and the woman do. This is Aino Anto's first picture book and her paintings evoke such emotion without indignation at what are sad circumstances for both the boy, whose identity is only that of Boy, and for Miranda, who endures the passage of time rather than biding it for hope. Or that was the situation until they make a family of their own.

I wept for a mother alone and forgotten and a boy ignored and abused. Each alone in their own ways, one speaking to the moon and one living outside in its light. And the moon watched it all as the two come together, as a waxing moon, growing into something important.

Before We Go

 

by Amy Bright

Red Deer Press

978-0-88995-471-7

222 pp.

Ages 12+

2012

Before We Go anywhere, we usually make preparations, whether we're going on vacation, to school, to work, to face a challenge or to our deaths. Some preparations are judicious (e.g., making a will, packing a suitcase) while others may be frivolous (e.g., getting a pedicure).  Many are logistical such as booking airplane tickets or purchasing a backpack.  The emotional, heartfelt preparations are perhaps the most difficult to effect Before We Go.

While her elderly grandmother lays dying at Victoria General Hospital, Emily Henderson, 17, does not want to leave her side.  But, when visiting hours end on that New Year's Eve, Emily is especially reluctant to go home to the house she has shared with her grandparents since she was a baby, anticipating the loneliness of having no one:  she has no father, her grandfather is dead, her grandmother dying, and her mother seemingly too busy with her life in Vancouver as a journalist.  It's not surprising that Emily, uncharacteristically for her, accepts an offer from Alex, a young man she meets in the hospital elevator, to join him and his teen sister, Lucy, for the evening.

The three young people become fast friends, driving around and eating junk food, going to a carnival, popping into Emily's house, and finally going to a party.  While they ignore texts and calls from Lucy and Alex's parents and from Emily's mother,  they talk and share.  Emily talks about her mother and her grandparents and being alone, and Alex and Lucy, amazingly close for siblings, chat about their taxidermist father, their mom, and their own relationship.  The revelation that Alex has cancer explains his presence at the hospital and his parents' desperation for his return there but he has a plan that he has devised with Lucy's help and Alex is determined to deliver on it, regardless...

Any book that has dying and death as its fulcrum could become a tough read but Amy Bright keeps the grief at bay with her believable teen characters whose hope, without exuberance, buoys them.  Emily, Alex and Lucy are all looking ahead and finding their fears and responding to those fears, even if frequently questioning their responses.  Emily worries about life without any family.  Alex worries about Lucy after he's gone.  Lucy worries about Alex and what little time he has left.  The plot could seem as contrived as Alex's plan, but Amy Bright brings the three characters together in such a natural way that every event seems to take place fortuitously (not coincidentally), appropriate for the end of an old year and the beginning of a new one.  

Though I had expected a cliché ending (perhaps finding a genetic match for bone marrow transplant), I was relieved by its absence, though also disappointed.  The disappointment was not in Amy Bright's writing or Before We Go's plot: it was a personal need for a happy ending with all loose ends tied in appropriate bows (even if not the colourful, flashy decoration on gifts).  Still, reminded of Robert Burns' poetic assertion that,

The best laid schemes of mice and men
Go often awry,
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy!

From To a Mouse on Turning Her Up in Her Nest with the Plough (Robert Burns, 1785)

Alex's plan does not end in nothing but grief and pain.   Joy may not be the outcome but with acceptance (as suggested in the hospital's proffered literature on grief) comes comfort and sometimes that's the best that can be expected.