In fifth grade, my teacher loathed me. She would do anything to make me cry and sent me to the principle’s office any chance she got. 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 got mad at me, telling me that I wasn’t being ‘patriotic’ and sent me to the principal’s office.
The principal and I were quite aquatinted at this point and so I told her why I was sent back to her office again, and she laughed. And laughed. 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. 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 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.