In the fifth grade, my teacher really disliked me. She would do anything to make me cry and sent me to the principal’s office any chance she got. You might not believe me, but I’m left-handed. Even today, I sometimes confuse my hands. On this particular day, we were doing the Pledge of Allegiance and I had put my left hand to my chest (it’s supposed to be your right hand over your heart). She got mad at me, telling me that I wasn’t being ‘patriotic’ and sent me to the principal’s office. The principal and I were quite familiar with each other by then, so I explained why I was sent to her office again, and she laughed. And laughed. I didn’t find it funny at all because all the kids in my school thought I was a delinquent, so they didn’t want to be my friend. My principal wrote on the back of my hands, L and R. What I didn't notice was that she wrote L on my right hand and R on my left hand. She wrote the same on her hands. Then she took me back to the classroom, had everyone redo the Pledge with our ‘right’ hands, with me leading the class, and it became one of the happiest moments of my time in elementary school.