Everyone's been there and done that, I imagine -- sat in an audience while the teacher droned on and on and on, not so much as a means of addressing what you don't know but more as a springboard for elevating what s/he does. Under cover of 'helping' and 'compassion' such teachers pin endless medals of wisdom on their own chests.
It's pretty fucking tedious, but seldom is the practice called out because, after all, this is the teacher and I am the bumbling, stumbling, fumbling student.
There's a precarious line that separates the good teacher from the self-indulgent one, but still, hope springs eternal: I would, after all, prefer not to bumble and stumble and fumble quite so much.
Perhaps being left out of the equation is one of the prices paid for solving the equation.