In my fifth grade year, 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. Don’t believe me? I’m left-handed. Even today, I sometimes confuse my hands. 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 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, 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 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.