In fifth grade, my teacher absolutely despised me. She did everything she could to make me cry and sent me to the principal's office at every opportunity. Don’t believe me? 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 acquainted at this point and so I told her why I was sent back 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 did 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.