The majestic chords of Sibelius' Finlandia rang through Boston Symphony Hall. My fingers raced along the strings, struggling to keep up with the brisk tempo. The orchestra itself was a machine teetering on the brink of collapse - one errant bow stroke would shatter the veneer of professionalism and remind the audience that the musicians were actually a group of high school students. It was moments of excitement and beauty such as this that drew me to the violin. Yet,...