In my fifth grade year, my teacher loathed 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 specific day, during the Pledge of Allegiance, I placed my left hand on my chest (it should be your right hand over your heart). She got angry at me, saying 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 L and R on the back of my hands. What I didn't notice was that she wrote L on my right hand and R on my left hand. She did the same to hers. Then, she walked me back to the classroom, and made our whole class redo the Pledge with our ‘right’ hand, with me leading the class, and it was one of the happiest moments of my elementary experience.