In the fifth grade, my teacher loathed 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. Even now, I still get my hands mixed up. 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 angry at me, saying 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 kept laughing. 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 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, 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.