In fifth grade, my teacher really disliked 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 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 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 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. The 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 on her hands. Then she walked me back to the classroom, had the whole class redo the Pledge with our ‘right’ hands, with me leading, and it was one of the happiest moments of my elementary school experience.