My parents never let me quit taking piano lessons. That, really, is the crux of my story. I did not grow up under a Tiger Mom, but from the very beginning, I grew up being surrounded by classical music. My dad and his three siblings all played piano, and my mom was my first piano teacher (That lasted about a year, until she decided I was better off being taught by her friend, and her friends’ kids were better off being taught by my Mom.) I would go to bed down the hall, hearing my dad practicing Chopin and Rachmaninoff. I would pick out tunes on the piano, and my mom taught me simple chords to accompany the melodies. I was a good sight reader early on and learned to fake my way through lessons, having neglected to spend much time practicing at home. It wasn’t that I didn’t love music; I really did love to play, but I did not have the drive to put much effort into it.