In the fifth grade, 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. So still, to this day, I get my hands confused. 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 became furious, accusing me of not 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 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 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.