About Me
Hi, I'm Tracey Kida
also known as Musicat
As a creativity mentor and music educator, I’ve spent years walking beside neurodivergent learners, helping them explore self-expression through rhythm, symbolism, and gentle creative ritual. I believe art and magic live in the everyday: in a leaf tucked inside a journal, in the hush between songs, in the courage it takes to begin with what you already have.
This space was born not to fix, but to honor the ways we feel, wander, and write.
How the Lantern Was Lit
2001
I graduated from Westfield State with a degree in Music Education, later earning my master’s as I stepped into a career shaped as much by resilience as by rhythm. My first classroom opened during a time of fear and upheaval — the world reeling from a terrorist attack, and my students carrying stories far heavier than any music folder—high schoolers with big emotions, big dreams, and sometimes, criminal records. We made room for it all. Then came middle school: smaller bodies, even bigger feelings, and fewer resources with every passing year. Still, we sang. We drummed. We built something sacred with what little we had. I ended my teaching career at the elementary level — surrounded by tiny hands, tender hearts, and enormous emotions. The songs were simpler, but the work was not. Twenty years of concerts, parades, competitions, hallway tears, and laughter echoing from every corner. Through it all, my classroom was never about perfection. It was about presence.A place where music meant joy, curiosity, and connection.A space where every learner — no matter how quiet, wild, or different — could feel safe, seen, and free to make a little noise.
After years of pouring my heart into teaching, I found myself running on reserves I no longer had.
Chronic illness, pain, mental burnout, and profound fatigue had been my quiet companions for much of my career, but the weight became unbearable.
The pandemic brought everything into sharp focus. Teaching music — a subject built on connection, expression, and shared breath — became nearly impossible in a world of distance and screens. I tried. I held on. I thrived. But eventually, my body, heart, and spirit whispered what I had long resisted: It’s time to rest. I was forced into early retirement. And with that, the familiar rhythm of concerts and chaos fell quiet.
Daily life is now its own kind of lesson — navigating healing in a system not designed to support those of us who feel deeply, live differently, or break down quietly. Every day brings its own set of struggles: physical, mental, and financial. But here in the stillness, I began to listen… and something soft began to return.
The Silence After the Song
2022
The Birth of Magical Fairy Apothecary
2025
In the hush that followed my classroom years, something unexpected began to bloom.
As I began learning more about how my own brain works — and walking beside my daughter on her neurodivergent journey — a thousand memories came into focus. Patterns, moments, truths I had missed in the noise. I realized I’m not just a sensitive, creative educator… I am neurodivergent, too.
And suddenly, everything made sense.
I’ve reconnected with former students — beautiful, complex souls who once found safety and joy in my classroom. Every single one of them is neurodivergent.
I didn’t just teach them music.
I saw through the mask.
I understood them — because my brain knew their language long before I had words for it.
I miss being that sanctuary. I miss being the quiet anchor for those who needed one.
Though I can’t return to a traditional classroom, I still carry the magic of what I built there — and I know the world needs it now more than ever.
✨ Magical Fairy Apothecary is my answer.
A softer space. A creative refuge. A gathering place for those of us who feel too much, need gentleness, and are ready to begin again.
