In the fifth grade, my teacher absolutely despised me. She would do anything to make me cry and sent me to the principal’s office any chance she got. You might not believe me, but I’m left-handed. So still, to this day, I get my hands confused. 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 became furious, accusing me of not 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. 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 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.