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. You might not believe me, but 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 got mad at me, telling me that I wasn’t 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 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 wrote 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.