There is a photo of that day, actually. My daughter looks happily blurred by jumping and my students are leaning forward, listening intently, and I do look like both a mother and a teacher. But I never felt doubled. I felt more like half a mother and half a teacher, constantly reaching for each identity as if it were a dangling toy—mother, teacher, mother, teacher—until the elastic tether of the other self snapped me away again.
