In my fifth grade year, my teacher loathed me. She would do anything to make me cry and sent me to the principal’s office any chance she got. 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 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 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 on the back of my hands, L and R. 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 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.