A Tribute to Mr. Salati (and all those who've made us feel like we belong)
- the healing musician
- Apr 18
- 5 min read
Updated: Apr 19
When I learned of Mario Salati’s passing, I imagined the whole Village of Endicott must be feeling like a light went out. While I’ve heard others use such metaphors for the loss of someone influential, this was the first time I really felt and understood what they meant in a way that was personal to me.
As I reflected on what actions and characteristics made Mario's impact so deep and far-reaching, another phrase came to mind: “You never know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.” And while that might be used in this situation to say that I didn’t know what a gift he was until he passed, that’s not quite right in this case, though it did take years of experiencing alternatives. Mario—or “Mr. Salati”, as I was fortunate to know him by—was my principal at Charles F. Johnson Elementary School (and later my high school principal as well). But it wasn’t until I became a teacher and worked in several elementary schools along the east coast that I realized the culture of care and belonging he created at CFJ was unique. The morning announcements (something that some of the schools I’ve worked in don’t have unless there’s an emergency) allowed a daily moment to reflect and to celebrate. In-school assemblies—such as pep rallies and award ceremonies (again, not a ‘given’ at all the schools I worked at)—provided opportunities for us to connect as an entire school body around a theme/cause and to see ourselves as part of a larger group identity. Numerous forms of recognition—from a birthday pencil (picked up from the principal’s office) to the “Citizen of the Month” award that included having one’s picture taken and hung in the hallway—allowed students to be seen and valued. And after-school gatherings—like our annual spaghetti dinner fundraiser and movie night—provided opportunities for families to gather together and to be seen/valued as the unit they are. And while I know that all of these structured experiences required the management and contribution of countless other caring individuals, Mr. Salati always played an active and often memorably entertaining role: he spoke on the announcements (in addition to having student announcers), dressed up as the tiger mascot for pep rallies, played an imaginary role of Mario O’Salati for St. Patrick’s Day, and—my personal favorite—played a “Chef Salati” character (who he tried to convince us was his brother) at the annual pasta dinners. Mr. Salati was present, playful, and—above all—kind, a combination that I know I was lucky to have experienced in the leader of the institution where I spent the formative years of my life.
As I’ve expanded my studies beyond education into the realm of therapy, I’ve found myself aligned with the work of two ‘Rogers’—Carl Rogers and Fred (Mister) Rogers—that I realize now was exemplified by Mario in his work as a principal and in his role in the wider Endicott community. The humanistic approach of Carl Rogers is rooted in the practice of “unconditional positive regard”, which I am moved to recall as having experienced from Mr. Salati. Having grown up on the lower end of the socioeconomic spectrum and seeing now as a teacher how too many children in a similar (or worse) situation to mine are marginalized in schools by students and staff alike, I realize what a privilege it was to have been treated with authentic respect and dignity by the leader of the school. It was years before I realized my situation was different than many of my peers and, even then, I felt a deep enough sense of belonging and motivation from the wider school culture that I was able to focus my attention on my education.
Since my current workplace is two doors (well, buildings) down from WQED, the Pittsburgh radio studio where Fred Rogers recorded The Children’s Corner and then Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, I find myself reflecting often on his work, which was rooted in the same unconditional positive regard as Carl Rogers but focused on supporting children and incorporated the type of play that Mr. Salati modeled at CFJ. Fred was a trained musician (he received a Bachelor’s in Music Composition from Rollins College) and an ordained minister (he attended Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and was ordained a Presbyterian minister the year following his program completion) whose calling was to the ministry of children’s television. I know Mr. Salati must have received a decent amount of training to have served in the positions he did, but I sensed that—like with Fred—the most important skills and qualities for the work he did and the impact he made were within him from the start. I always felt that he (in the words of Mister Rogers) liked people “just the way [they] are” and showed us by example that the three ways to be successful are to “be kind, be kind, and be kind”.
While my personal career journey has been less than straight as I’ve navigated my way to, through, and away from music education, I found myself providing—and resonating deeply with—a response I hadn’t planned to give to a surprising (and somewhat laughable, given my trajectory) question in my most recent job interview: “What skills or characteristics do you possess that have helped you build a successful career?” After a pause, I found myself saying, “While I can’t say I’ve built a successful career, I believe I’ve been cultivating a presence”, a presence that I am proud to carry into the work and spaces I find myself navigating these days. Just yesterday, I sat on a committee at my university—one of the leading technology campuses in the world—and brainstormed ideas for cultivating connection among the staff in my division, a topic requiring attention in a culture of overwhelm and disconnect. I was pleased to find that my training in music—one of humanity’s most powerful and immediate connection tools—prepared me to be a valuable contributor to this cause. But even more than my musical training and my experience in bringing people together, I realize that my experience of belonging—not only inviting people to come together but making them feel like they each matter and make a difference—is the most valuable asset I bring to the table. A sense of belonging and how to cultivate it isn’t something that can be simply taught but must be learned through lived experience. And, as is the case with all areas of development, belonging is much more readily available and easier to retain when it’s the original lesson learned (and doesn’t require unlearning or overwriting an incorrect lesson). For this, I realize in writing this reflection, I was privileged to have attended Charles F. Johnson Elementary School, to have been blessed with numerous devoted and downright wonderful teachers throughout my entire public-school education, and to have had Mr. Salati at the helm of the institution where much of my early childhood development took place.
I am privileged and beyond grateful to have grown up in Mister Salati’s Neighborhood.
Food For Thought:
What place/space/person has made you feel like you belong?
How has the person you are today been shaped by someone who influenced you along your path? What about them are you proud to carry inside of you?
How can you make those around you feel like they belong?
Mood For Thought:
It’s You I Like by Fred Rogers (and Jeff Erlanger)
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