In my fifth grade year, my teacher loathed 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. 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 became furious, accusing me of not 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 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 realize was that she wrote L on my right hand and R on my left hand. She did the same to hers. Then, she walked me back to the classroom, and made our whole class redo the Pledge with our ‘right’ hand, with me leading the class, and it was one of the happiest moments of my elementary experience.