Kay’s Odyssey

Category: Childrens Books

  • The Heart If A Great Teacher

    The Heart If A Great Teacher

    What makes a teacher great?

    I’ve spent the better part of my life watching teachers, becoming one, resisting the label, then finally surrendering to it with a nod of grace. I used to think great teachers were born in classrooms, standing at a podium with a chalk in one hand and a world of wisdom in the other. Now, I know better.

    A great teacher, I’ve come to believe, isn’t someone who knows it all—but someone who knows how to stay curious. Someone who teaches not from a pedestal but from the trenches of their own lived experience. Someone who admits they too have potholes, detours, and doubts—and that the syllabus they teach is written, not in ink, but in mud, laughter, and late-night journal entries.

    That’s how I began writing Diary of Clichés—as a kind of curriculum for the emotionally brave. Because sometimes the best teachers are not the ones in schools or seminar rooms, but the ones who sit across from you with a cup of coffee, or write books that hold up a mirror and whisper, “You too?”

    I don’t believe in perfection. Never have. I believe in vulnerability. I believe in showing up, even when the lesson plan is incomplete. I believe in asking the hard questions—even if the answers are uncomfortable. Especially when they are. I believe in learning aloud, in failing forward, and in inviting others to join the journey—not when you’ve figured it all out, but when you haven’t.

    That’s what Life Choices & Potholes is all about. It’s the textbook I wish I had when I was stumbling through crossroads, unsure of whether to listen to logic, intuition, or the girl inside me still learning how to speak. That book, and others like it, are my offering. Not because I claim to have all the answers—but because I’ve finally stopped pretending that I do.

    A great teacher listens before they lecture. Holds space before they hand out solutions. And sometimes, a great teacher just asks the right question at the right moment and lets the silence do the rest.

    So what makes a teacher great? Maybe it’s this: the willingness to show up fully human, to love people into their potential, and to remind them—gently, consistently, quietly—that their story matters.

    That they matter.

    And that maybe, just maybe, their mess is the message someone else has been waiting for.

  • How a Mysterious Collaboration Became a Children’s Book Series

    How a Mysterious Collaboration Became a Children’s Book Series

    A Song and Dance for Mother Earth

    If you had told me a year ago that I’d be helping to bring a children’s book series into the world — one written by an author I have never met in person, who prefers to let her words speak in whispers — I might have smiled politely and gone back to my coffee.

    But life, and the Universe, have a way of surprising us.

    It began with a letter.
    A soft, wise letter from someone writing under the name Sora Mei — a storyteller who described herself simply as “one who writes for the Earth and its children.”

    Her words moved me instantly.
    She had read something on my blog about protecting the planet and had been inspired to share her own project: a small collection of timeless tales that would speak gently to little hearts about big things — about fire, water, Earth, and the balance we must honor between them.

    I was captivated.
    And soon, we were writing back and forth — exchanging drafts, reflections, and ideas for how these stories might live in the world.

    The more I read her words, the more I knew: this series needed to be shared. Not just with children, but with the grown-ups who read to them — who, in doing so, might remember their own love for this fragile blue planet.

    And so, quietly, a collaboration was born.

    We called the series:
    A Song and Dance for Mother Earth.

    Because stories, like songs, can stay in your heart long after the final note is played.
    Because we wanted these books to be not lectures, but invitations — to wonder, to respect, to care.

    The Day Fire Disappeared

    The first book in the series — The Day Fire Disappeared — is launching this weekend.

    It was inspired by a real and heartbreaking event: the death of a baby red fox in Britain, frightened to death by the shock of fireworks.

    From that single spark of sorrow grew a gentle fable about a future world where fire disappears because it has been misused. A world where children and animals must learn to live in harmony again — and where the Universe reminds us that every gift we are given must be treated with care.

    The story is written in the language of The Velveteen Rabbit — simple, poetic, and full of quiet wisdom. It is a story to read aloud by soft lamp light, or beneath the branches of a tree, or cuddled together before bedtime.

    And though it is written for children, I believe it carries messages many grown-ups need to hear again.

    A Series of Whispers

    There are more books to come.

    The second — The Day Water Vanished — will explore the preciousness of water, and what happens when we take it for granted.

    The third — The Day the Sun Slept — is a hauntingly beautiful story about what happens when Mother Earth, too weary from misuse, decides not to wake one morning… and the Sun, in solidarity, stays hidden.

    Each of these stories is written by Sora Mei, in her gentle, mysterious voice.
    And I — Kay — have had the joy of helping bring them into the world.

    I will not tell you more about Sora. She prefers to remain behind the curtain, letting her stories shine instead. But I will say this: it has been one of the great joys of this past year to collaborate with someone who writes from such deep love for the Earth.

    A Song for Our Children — and Theirs

    So why am I sharing this today?

    Because I believe we need more stories like these.
    Stories that invite children to become stewards of this planet.
    Stories that remind us that even small actions matter — that planting a tree, turning off a tap, or choosing celebration that does not harm animals is an act of love.

    A Song and Dance for Mother Earth is just a small offering.
    But small offerings, like single drops of water or sparks of light, can grow.

    I hope you’ll join me in welcoming The Day Fire Disappeared into the world this weekend.
    I hope you’ll read it to your children, or gift it to someone you love.
    And I hope, like me, you’ll remember — stories can heal. Stories can awaken.
    And sometimes, they can even change the way we dance upon this Earth.

    With gratitude,
    Kay
    (In collaboration with Sora Mei)

    Follow us on Instagram: @storiesbysoramei

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