When that little voice in your head escapes...

Mrs. Language related this story to me and it's just too good not to share.

I have a kid in my homeroom I call Boston Boy. This kid has never ever lived or traveled North of the Mason Dixon Line but he sounds like he's straight from South Boston. I have a friend, Trish Murphy, from Southy and Boston Boy could be kin to her based on accent alone. We've never met Dad, but Mom is pure Southern so goodness knows where he picked it up.

Anyhow, Boston Boy is pretty bright, a hard rock music lover, and a kid without a lot of patience. Mrs. Language is doing a class discussion the other day (I believe they were working on descriptive writing) where she would show the kids pictures and she'd call on them to describe it as vividly as they could.

As she's doing this, she's standing near Boston Boys desk and he's sort of leaning forward with his elbow on his desk, and his head propped in his hand. She calls on a student in class to give her description of the picture and she realizes that Boston Boy is mumbling something.

"Oh man, just shut the hell up," she hears him mumble.

The student finishes, and another student is called and begins going over his description.

"Jeez, you're just so damn stupid," she hears Boston Boy mumble.

By this point Mrs. Language decides she needs to put a stop to Boston Boy's mumbling even though it appears no one but she can hear it.

"Boston," she hisses at him. "Watch your mouth!"

She relates that at this point Boston Boy spins around to look at her, his mouth hanging open and his eyes all but popping out of his head. "You heard me?" he asks.

"Of course I heard you," she says. "You're lucky the other kids didnt."

"But I didn't know I was saying anything out loud!" he whispers back at her. "I thought I was just talking in my head."