In my fifth grade year, my teacher absolutely despised 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. 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 became furious, accusing me of not being ‘patriotic,’ and sent me to the principal’s office. The principal and I knew each other well by that point, so I told her why I was back in her office, and she laughed. And kept laughing. 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 notice 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, and made our whole class redo the Pledge with our ‘right’ hand, with me leading the class, and it was one of the happiest moments of my elementary experience.