In the fifth grade, my teacher loathed 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. Even now, I still get my hands mixed up. 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 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 think it was funny at all; all the kids in my school thought I was a troublemaker, so they avoided me. My 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.