In my fifth grade year, my teacher really disliked me. She did everything she could to make me cry and sent me to the principal's office at every opportunity. Don’t believe me? 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 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 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. My 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 to hers. 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.