It is a given in my profession that one's sanity and, ultimately, one's survival require mountains of patience, given the clientele we work with.
If awards were given in this category, I would like to submit the names of two of the most patient people I've ever known. One was my junior high school band teacher, Tom Fox, who endured six years of Kimber torment delivered by my brother Dave and myself. We were percussionists in his band and orchestra classes and pounded more on his nerves than we did on our drums. We were, to put it mildly, not the answer to this man's prayers for peace of mind.
At some point in his preparation for life, Fox decided to accept a job nurturing 50 or so young children with limited understanding of their instruments to come together and make music. His goal was to harmonize the straining and screeching of 30 violins and cellos, 20 or so squeaking clarinets and oboes, a brass section invariably too loud and percussion — always the hardest to control. Somehow he managed to coax music from that mix.