Years ago, I was playing in a community band with several other friends, all of whom were either professional musicians or accomplished amateurs. Along came “Helen,” the very bright eleven year-old child of a local professor. While Helen was talented, she had unfortunately become convinced that she was simply the best musician in the world. Though most of us had been playing our instruments since decades before Helen was born, she began raiding our music folders before rehearsal and stealing the best parts for herself. We tried patiently explaining to her that she simply wasn't physically or musically ready for these parts, but Helen wasn't having it. So, the night of our concert, I assembled a folder labeled, “1st Horn,” and I put all the worst, most boring parts in it. Helen took the bait. When she opened the folder on stage and realized what had been done, she refused to play at all, and she sulked through the entire program. Helen stopped stealing folders after that.