In my fifth grade year, my teacher absolutely despised me. She would do anything to make me cry and sent me to the principal's office whenever she could. Don’t believe me? I’m left-handed. Even now, I still get my hands mixed up. 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 became furious, accusing me of not being ‘patriotic,’ and sent me to the principal’s office. The principal and I knew each other well by that point, so I told her why I was back in her office, and she laughed. And laughed. I didn’t find it funny at all, I mean 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 realize was that she wrote L on my right hand and R on my left hand. She did the same to hers. 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.