My Music Teacher, My Safe Space
The Mentors Who Made Me
Last week, I shared the story of my father, Renzo, my first mentor. Today, I want to tell you about another mentor who shaped my understanding of what it means to create space where people feel they truly belong.
In my early years, I tried to practice sports, just like all my friends. But I wasn't cut for it. After a few absolutely forgettable years playing basketball (I scored once in six years), I decided it was time to try something else.
At that time, I regularly attended the parish, and I had great admiration for the guys playing guitar. For a shy teenager like me, it felt like a great opportunity to be seen. So, when a new music school opened in my village, I took the leap and decided to become a guitar player.
That is when I met Stefano, my first music teacher.
Stefano was only a few years older than me. He was finishing his studies to become a surveyor and also taught music to young kids like me. Above all, he played the guitar like a god.
Something struck me from the very beginning of our lessons. Despite him being so skilled and me being just a beginner, he always treated me as a peer. He didn't just tell me what to do; he made an effort to get to know me and understand what I liked and wanted. Our time together was always engaging, and I was able to overcome my natural shyness and insecurities. I wasn't just learning. I was growing.
This attitude became even more evident a few years later. I wasn't studying music anymore, but I continued to play the guitar. I was finally the guy playing at the parish's events, even though it didn't feel as cool as I thought. Anyway, in the meantime, Stefano had opened his own guitar shop.
For more than a year, I spent almost every Saturday in his shop. I just loved being there: dreaming about being a rockstar, talking with him, listening to his stories, and hearing him play. He was—still is—a hell of a guitar player. I could barely strum a few chords. I wasn't even a good client, considering I didn't have much money to spend in his shop.
Yet again, he always treated me as a peer. He loved music, and for him, it didn't matter how good or bad you were at playing an instrument. If you loved music and wanted to play, then you were a fellow musician.
Shy as I still was, I felt seen and valued as a person.
In his presence, I felt a sense of belonging.
And that helped me massively in my growth, not as a musician—I'm still an amateur at best—but as a person.
In mentoring, we meet as equals.
Different experience, same worth.
And Stefano did precisely that. His ability to see in me the human being who loved music, and not just someone with less talent and skill, was a massive boost to my confidence. He made me feel seen and valued. And that allowed me to learn, grow, and evolve. It's a lesson I carry into all my roles as a leader or manager. And today, into every mentoring relationship. I always look for the person behind the title or role because once we connect on a human level, we can truly see each other as equal partners, grow together, share a fulfilling experience, and make a meaningful impact.
He didn't know it, but Stefano did way more than teach me how to hold a guitar and play some chords. Through his presence, he showed me how to create a space where people feel they belong so we can evolve together.
For that, I'll be forever grateful.
Who makes you feel valued for who you are, not what you could do? Who creates a safe space where you feel you belong?
Becoming the Mentor: Two Lives, One Journey, A Million Gifts is available on Amazon and your favorite bookshops. Check out our website for more info and the link to get your copy: https://becomingthementor.com/
I am looking forward to hearing your feedback.
To celebrate the launch of the book, Rossella Pin and I are hosting a weekly workshop on mentoring every Wednesday. Subscribe on the website and join us next week.
🗓️ We meet every Wednesday.