Now in America, she watches fall leaves fly past her feet. Still, her family’s apartment feels like a village: Mama cooking luchi, funny stories in Bangla, and Baba’s big laugh. But outside, everything is different – trick-or-treating, ballet class, and English books.Back and forth, Shanti trudges between her two worlds. She remembers her village and learns her new town. She watches Bollywood movies at home and Hollywood movies with her friends. She is Indian. She is also American. How should she define home?

    But one day while playing farm animals at recess, her friends point out that her whiskers would make her the perfect cat. She starts to notice body hair all over--on her arms, legs, and even between her eyebrows.With her parents' help, Laxmi learns that hair isn't just for heads, but that it grows everywhere, regardless of gender. Featuring affirming text by Shelly Anand and exuberant, endearing illustrations by Nabi H. Ali, Laxmi's Mooch is a celebration of our bodies and our body hair, in whichever way they grow.

    It is both the seventh day of Hanukkah and Christmas Eve, 1938. As Oskar walks the length of Manhattan, from the Battery to his new home in the north of the city, he passes experiences the city's many holiday sights, and encounters it various residents. Each offers Oskar a small act of kindness, welcoming him to the city and helping him on his way to a new life in the new world.

    Beginning in the fall with the new year and ending in summer, follow a full Cherokee year of celebrations and experiences. Appended with a glossary and the complete Cherokee syllabary, originally created by Sequoyah.

    Cherry and New York Times bestseller Vashti Harrison.Zuri’s hair has a mind of its own. It kinks, coils, and curls every which way. Zuri knows it’s beautiful. When mommy does Zuri’s hair, she feels like a superhero. But when mommy is away, it’s up to daddy to step in! And even though daddy has a lot to learn, he LOVES his Zuri. And he’ll do anything to make her—and her hair—happy.Tender and empowering, Hair Love is an ode to loving your natural hair—and a celebration of daddies and daughters everywhere.

    “With its restrained poetic text and impressionist paintings, this is a picture book for older readers, too.”--Booklist

    After three days of marveling at the sights and sounds of the Serengeti, Father—Auntie Sharon’s brother—takes the group to the coastal town of Bagamoyo (Swahili for “to let go of one’s heart”) and tells its sad history as a slave-trading post. “e are much more fortunate than our African ancestors who were forced to leave the country that they loved and had no chance of retuning,” Father says. “We are blessed with the freedom to move back and forth.” Robinson (Jackie’s Gift), the daughter of baseball legend Jackie Robinson, bases this book on family history and a family trip, and while her tale isn’t particularly dramatic, her pride in her family’s resilience shines through. Ford’s (Barack) acrylics don’t add much emotional depth despite their detail and rich palette, but he brings a matter-of-fact approach to a distant landscape that underscores how a close family can transcend geography.

    She finds great comfort in the family's cat, Goyangi - that is, until he runs away. After searching the streets with her mother, Soo Min discovers her beloved pet has returned to the house, and speaks her first English word - "Goyangi home." This gentle story reveals that home is truly where the heart is.

    Sam's class is knitting socks for soldiers and Sam is a terrible knitter. Keiko is a good knitter, but some kids at school don't want anything to do with her because the Japanese have bombed Pearl Harbor and her family is Japanese American. When Keiko's family is forced to move to a camp for Japanese Americans, can Sam find a way to demonstrate his friendship?-- "Journal"

    With a simple text and childlike language, the story expresses and addresses a child's concerns, highlights the friendship between child and pet, presents a common ground for the parents, and resolves conflict in a positive way. Tricia Tusa's charming and whimsical artwork adds a light, happy feel to this poignant--but not overly sentimental--story.

    But a sudden tragedy forces Esperanza and Mama to flee to California during the Great Depression, and to settle in a camp for Mexican farm workers. Esperanza isn't ready for the hard labor, financial struggles, or lack of acceptance she now faces. When their new life is threatened, Esperanza must find a way to rise above her difficult circumstances--Mama's life, and her own, depend on it.

    Children are filling the road. "Will they give us a notebook?" Thomas asks. "Will they give us a pencil?""Will I learn to read?"But when he and the other children arrive at the schoolyard, they find no classroom, no desks. Just a teacher. "We will build our school," she says. "This is our first lesson."James Rumford, who lived in Chad as a Peace Corps volunteer, fills these pages with vibrant ink-and-pastel colors of Africa and the spare words of a poet to show how important learning is in a country where only a few children are able to go to school.

    When Grandpa practices tai chi in the garden, Vinson asks to learn, hoping it will be like kung fu, full of kicks and punches. But tai chi’s meditative postures are slow and still, and Vinson quickly gets bored. He can’t understand why Grandpa insists on calling him by his Chinese name, Ming Da, or why he has to wear a traditional Chinese jacket to the Chinese New Year parade. As the parade assembles, however, he notices the great respect given to his grandfather and the lion dancers under his training. And when Vinson is offered a role in the parade, he realizes that being part Chinese can be pretty cool—and is ready to start learning from his grandpa’s martial-arts mastery in earnest.

    A young boy and his yak bravely overcome all odds to get to Lhasa, giving a wise and simple message that will inspire children of any age to dream and reach for a shining goal that may seem "very far."

    In this poignant story, the counting rope is a metaphor for the passage of time and for a boy's emerging confidence in facing his blindness.