Shy Child

;She has already conquered shame; all that’s left is to learn how to sing.
— Mikhail Zhvanetsky
;“...‘The deer has a big house, he looks out his window...’ Lilya, why aren't you singing?”
;A music lesson at a Thai music school. Standing next to the piano is five-year-old Lilya—a long-haired, sun-kissed marvel with laughing eyes. Her parents are entrepreneurs from Moscow. To my accompaniment, the little one stares silently and intently into space.
;“What’s the matter, Lilyecha?”
;“I’m tickling my pee-pee,” she announces with charming casualness, pulling her hand out from under her dress. Then, for maximum clarity, she yanks up her skirt, demonstrating a total absence of underwear.
;To say I was bewildered is to say nothing at all: my eyes popped right out of their sockets and rolled across the piano keys.
;“And... why?”
;“To make it ticklish,” the girl explains condescendingly, as if talking to someone small and stupid.
;I took a deep breath, ready to unleash the entire classic pedagogical repertoire of the old school—stuff like “that’s not nice,” “you must behave properly,” “modesty adorns a girl,” and so on...
;...And exhaled it right back.
;First of all, in this day and age, modesty is something boasted about only by those who have nothing else to boast about.
;Secondly, a Russian teacher, whose profession today has been discredited to the point of humiliation, has no moral right to teach the child of capital city entrepreneurs how to live. Even in Thailand.
;Thirdly, I make it a principle not to raise other people's children; I only teach them music.
;What if my ideas of what's right don't match the parents' business plan for life? Times and manners have changed completely. In my day, a student who talked back to a teacher was called to the principal's office, standing there with their head bowed while their mother burned with shame right beside them. Nowadays, a powerful, shaved-headed dad who sponsors the school will praise his kid for such insolence—saying they’re growing up to be an eagle, a real predator! It’s the teacher who will get kicked out for professional incompetence instead. And recently in Moscow, they say an honors student shot a geography teacher with a shotgun just because he didn't give him an A. So, kids these days come with quite a spark, alas.
;But getting closer to the body, that is, regarding the "tickling"...
;Once upon a time, a young European tried to tell me a joke: a man supposedly asked a lady why women had cleared out all the vibrators from the stores? To which she replied, "Do you really think anyone uses them for their intended purpose?"
For some reason, I didn't laugh.
The guy, clearly disappointed by the complete failure of his gag, inquired, "What, don't single Russian women use them for intimate purposes?" (Mind you, the notorious Perestroika was in full swing back then).
;"I terribly apologize," I told him, "but right now, I just don't have the headspace to think about vibrators. And neither do the rest of our women."
"And what do you think about?"
"About food. About lines. About a new pair of warm boots. I haven't seen any lines for sex toys in Russia."
;Decades later, it might seem like I'm exaggerating, but you can't leave out a word from the song.
;Yet less than a quarter of a century passed before a new generation grew up—affluent, uninhibited, calling things by their real names. They can easily appreciate a dirty joke, they know how to squeeze every drop of joy out of life, and they use the body for more than just basic medical functions. We should be rejoicing, not moralizing! It’s not for me, an old-school music teacher, to stomp on the throat of the song of a future top model, showbiz star, or a new Marilyn Monroe (who, by the way, didn't care for underwear either).
;And anyway—what do I care about other people's anatomical details.
;I only said:
“We’re having a music lesson right now, Lilya, so let’s get down to business. Come on, let's sing the song. Hands up, show me what big antlers the Deer has! Like that! Three, four: ‘The deer has a big house...’ Well, you’re still not singing. Why?”
;“I’m shy...” the girl said, lowering her eyes.