But they hold me back and try to keep me in my place. What is my place? Who and what am I now?
Am I the sum of my life or only of the past months? Oh, how impatient they get when I try to discuss it with them.
They don't like to admit that they don't know. It's paradoxical that an ordinary man like Nemur presumes to devote himself to making other people geniuses.
He would like to be thought of as the discoverer of new laws of learning—the Einstein of psychology.
And he has the teacher's fear of being surpassed by the student, the master's dread of having the disciple discredit his work.
(Not that I am in any real sense Nemur's student or disciple as Burt is.)
I guess Nemur's fear of being revealed as a man walking on stilts among giants is understandable.
Failure at this point would destroy him. He is too old to start all over again.
As shocking as it is to discover the truth about men I had respected and looked up to, I guess Burt is right. I must not be too impatient with them.
Their ideas and brilliant work made the experiment possible.
I've got to guard against the natural tendency to look down on them now that I have surpassed them.
I've got to realize that when they continually admonish me to speak and write simply
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