Beef, chicken, pork, fish, beans... there has to be some protein.
A desire to be a good teacher is not enough. The knowledge of texts, theories, properties that we learn in our own high school experiences is not enough. We must learn how to teach these things to other people - and in many cases, this is harder than learning them the first time around. Sometimes texts are so entrenched in the canon of our education that we forget why they are important.

The taco pictured, like most teachers, features plenty of good things. This one has cilantro which is yuuuum-ee. However, it has a little too much beef for my liking, and not nearly enough cheese. The possibilities, you see, are endless. Photo from Getty Images.

Regardless of whether my assessments of that particular text are agreeable or not, the process is the important thing. Teachers must dive into their subject matter and come up with something richer, deeper, filling. An shell with a few fixings is a superficial education. One overflowing with something substantive is what we should offer students, and by doing this, we must be constantly simmering... basting in the juices of our learning, bulking up what we know so that we have more to give.

Cheese makes it taste better/go down more smoothly.
What we give to students in terms of curriculum content often has little to do with us. It will vary from school to school, but in most cases, the texts and techniques we teach are determined by the school's administration. Oh, we may have a choice between a few short stories or an either/or whole-class book, but when it comes to paragraph and essay writing, one way will be acceptable per the school's standards.

I have encountered teachers who become so frustrated by the parameters under which they must work. Most commonly, when it comes to the strict guidelines of the paragraph, I have heard, "Who writes this way?" What are we to do when faced with such restrictions? (I, who thrives when writing the brief, Hemingway-esque paragraphs, cringe at the thought of mandating an 8-10 sentence style). The best answer I have is to put a little personal spin onto it. Make the boring book fun by acting out the parts. Make the boring paragraph style a little easier by writing about fun things. Turn Shakespeare on its ear by pairing it with differing translations and media. Content changes, but only over time. While we work to introduce new selections into the content, we're going to be stuck working with the old. Case in point: I hate The Scarlet Letter and there is a distinct possibility I will be teaching it. I cannot ever get around the fact that Nathaniel Hawthorne is a celebrated early American author, and that the book I disdain is one of his most significant works. What will I do to make it easier for me, and therefore the class, to digest? Add cheese, maybe some sour cream. What that means at this point is beyond me, but whatever it is, it will make the whole thing tastier and more easily swallowed.

Eat your veggies any way you can.
Teaching isn't all about the fun of the content and the technique. There are essential elements that we must master as well... the student rules, the attendance procedures, the phone calls home, seating charts, emergency lesson plans, evaluations, the Union regulations, the letters of our contracts, the professional associations, the extra-curricular obligations, grading, classroom management, classroom management, classroom management. What can be said about these aspects? They are rarely fun but always necessary. Hide them under the cheese so that you are still eating them but they are not prominent...

Spice it up - there is always room for peppers and hot sauce and salsa!
"Why do we have to read this? This is so boring! This so is boring!" Wherever students place the modifier, they tend to find a lot of things we teach to be dull and distasteful. I also somewhat dread the thought of a taco, even loaded with steak and cheese, to be void of any sauce. The spice is what makes it distinct. This will be the same in the classroom. We can have the best intentions, the finest book, the prettiest dressing, but without the spice, well... it's a dry sandwich as compared to a yummy burrito.

Spicing up the lesson is the bulk of what we learn from Nancy Steineke. Keep things unpredictable, give them a pop. This is a lot like the cheese factor above, except that it is more that doing something different every once in awhile... it is about being innovative. that word scares me, because it implies doing something no one has done before, but that assessment is not altogether true. If I employ the methods of Steineke's binders, shoulder partners, or other techniques inside my classroom, than it is going to be innovative in my classroom, to my students.

When I have prepared lesson plans in the past, I rarely have felt like I was doing something innovative. Even the 'creative' projects I tend to employ have already become yesterday's stale tortilla... webquests, book shares, journals. How will I break from these new yet still predictable patterns? Again, I know that I don't have all those answers now, but I have the base: I know that this component is necessary to a satisfying, worth-talking-about taco. I don't know what my spices will be. I am pretty excited about the thoughts of injecting a little fanfiction into studies of prose. I think I will be a pro at tying classic or academic works into pop culture. But for now, those are just bottled spices and salsas in a jar. The more experience I have, the more I will experiment with spicy ingredients all my own.

Guacamole may be green, but it is so darn good.
When all else fails, show them what you have by taking something that looks completely distasteful and convincing them how good it is. I guess I liken this most to the principle of, "Trust me. You will use this some day." Poor math teachers have to try to convey that every day (and yes, Mr. DeVore, I have used algebra in real life. I will never, ever forget "'is' over 'off' equals 'x' over 100"). Why do we have to read Shakespeare? Why do we have to know the difference between a simile and a metaphor? And why, for the love of Flamin' Hot Cheetohs, do we have to have a topic sentence and a conclusion in every single paragraph? Every English major knows the answers to these questions. We all know that these lessons appear in the strangest places and help us to be better communicators, whether we are filling out job applications, sharing anecdotes at a party, or watching a movie that seemingly has nothing to do with any of it. Oh... and by the way, avocadoes are one of the healthiest foods one can eat!

Tacos, in a word, rock!
Who doesn't like a taco? Tacos contain a conglomeration of ingredients that are fresh, filling, nutritious, and so, so tasty. Tacos consist of a few basic ingredients, but even those can be prepared in a variety of ways. Tacos can contain any number of toppings... it is all up to the person doing the cooking and/or the eating. They can be as healthy as we desire, chock-full of vegetables, or they can be the greasiest, fattiest comfort food one can possibly desire. Tacos can be made quickly and easily, or they can have very complicated, even gourmet, ingredients. Tacos can be shared. They are served everywhere from Burger King to Applebee's to my personal favorite, Vallarta's.

Teachers are tacos. We must combine ingredients from many sources to come up with a whole meal that entices and nourishes our students... and that meal will change depending on the mood, the content, the season in which we are teaching. We can have soft or hard shells, but we often have both. We have many different fillings, but all valuable. We must know how to dress something to make it work better, and we know how to spice things up for a lighter or hotter flavor.

We must be a complete package that entices and delivers to our audience.

Pictures: my homemade guacamole, which looks quite gross here but
 is in fact one of the most wonderful things you might ever taste.