Like many malcontents, or seeming-malcontents, my old friend the Curmudgeon is an idealist. He’s a fine pianist, and a superb teacher—kind, humorous, patient, and resourceful—and when he writes to me, he lets his hair down. I recently came across this from 2005:
“Tried a piano-teacher discussion group, had to drop out. Imagine: the teachers spoke of gifted students as having something wrong with them! Something wrong with being gifted! And they spoke of themselves as Beethoven would not have spoken of himself: as completed musicians!! They have no clue that it’s we who are being tested by the lessons we give. And found wanting!!!
“One of them had a super-bright and gifted student, an 8-y.o. boy. The teacher had no idea what it means to be that bright, and the group took it to be their job to find ‘the fault’ with the kid!!!!
“If I’d stayed, I would have started screaming. I’m kind of screaming here, aren’t I?”
Poor Curmudge! I wrote him words of comfort. 
