In my fifth grade year, my teacher loathed me. She did everything she could to make me cry and sent me to the principal's office at every opportunity. You might not believe me, but I’m left-handed. So still, to this day, I get my hands confused. One day, we were reciting the Pledge of Allegiance, and I put my left hand on my chest (you’re supposed to use your right hand). 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 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 think it was funny at all; all the kids in my school thought I was a troublemaker, so they avoided me. My principal wrote L and R on the back of my hands. 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.