Shirl McPhillips combines a lifetime of teaching experience with an equal amount of love for poetry. Former Co-Director of the Teachers College Reading and Writing Project, Columbia University, NY, she has also worked as a literacy staff developer, institute leader and writing consultant, teaching young people and their teachers in the metropolitan New York area.

Her work has appeared at several other online sites and in professional publications such as The English Journal and Language Arts Magazine. Her poems have found homes in journals such as The Sewanee Review, Frogpond: Journal of the Haiku Society of America, and The Edison Review.

She co-authored, with prize-winning poet and memorist Nick Flynn, a book called A Note Slipped Under the Door: Teaching from Poems We Love, by Stenhouse Publishers.

These days, Shirl is carving out more time for the things that nurture her soul, always with poetry at the center. She participates in major poetry institutes such as Robert Frost Place, Key West Literacy Seminars, and Poetry Week in San Miguel, Mexico. Shirl is working currently on a chapbook collection and reads publicly with fellow poet friends.

She is poet laureate for Choice Literacy.

Invocation at the End of Summer Shirley McPhillips Fall is a rich time of year to venture out, find one thing to gaze upon and gaze long. Then longer. In your notebook, jot what you see. Keep looking, keep jotting. Push to stay longer, to see more, say more. Practice what John Moffitt tells us: to see spring we must be the thing we see, we must "enter into the small silences between the leaves . . ." There, or later, you can stretch what you've written. . . . more Lady With the Yellow Umbrella Shirley McPhillips I am learning better how to live. Align with the things that give us hope. . . . more Harbinger Shirley McPhillips Where has this robin been, the one who finally showed up here this morning decked out in a dullish coat of gray over a vest of faded red? Understated for a serious harbinger . . . more Now is Our Season Shirley McPhillips My mother said she loved all seasons. But autumn, she said, though stunning in color and brisk of air, eventually gave her a sense of things dying away, of fading to dark. I think she approached winter with some trepidation. The closing in of days, the sparse and muted light. Time stretched out. The seemingly endless quest for spring again. . . . more Life on the Edge Shirley McPhillips Writing a poem is like that. It starts with desire. Then bits and pieces: an image, a sentiment, a line that rings. These sit in a precarious place, open to all sorts of literary and emotional weather. The mother muses of that desire, of experience and poems past, sit on my shoulder and chatter…distracting, nourishing. Endless consideration. Finally, an idea, a shape, compatible sounds make their way to the edge and stand there, boldly. There's no guarantee, "no royal flyway." But a quickening of hope. . . . more An Uncommon Place Shirley McPhillips Well, maybe when things get turned upside down, when something other than the ordinary steps into our paths and we allow ourselves to see things in uncommon ways, we can gather in the immediacy of uncommon ground, however nimbly. . . . more Along Saplines This morning, I tiptoe across the cold floor and open the shutters tenderly, not wanting to shatter my AM disequilibrium further by the blizzardly scene that forecasters have been predicting around the clock. Surprise. Nothing. Again. Only the snow-stained remnants of last week's lackluster dusting and a kicked-up wind. Not that we haven't had snow, and interminable cold. . . . more Cap'n George: Mentors Who Matter Shirl McPhillips Poems mentor me. But having a personal mentor as well means everything to me as a continual student of writing. So, as school begins, I want to think more about the teacher as mentor. Sounds obvious, but is it? What does a good mentor do? Will students see us as their mentors? Will they see themselves as being mentored? What does that mean they do? . . . more Days Ease Shirley McPhillips Some people suggest that in summer's ease, we have the time to rethink our curriculum, to read and select books we want to use next year, to consider how we will begin again in the fall, to get better organized. Yes, we do. And, yes, we could. But somehow just thinking about all that makes me tired. . . . more If We Could Meet Again Shirley McPhillips In summer I tend to break out of a type of linear thinking that defines much of my attitude during the school year. It's a safe pattern of thinking and acting that sometimes dictates my view of where I am and what I'm doing. As teachers, it's easy to get stuck in thinking this way as we puzzle over problems and issues across the year. . . . more The Porch in August: Letting It Be Shirley McPhillips Chris told his fifth-grade students last week that when he is inside a good book he just cannot put it down. He is caught in the vortex of the story and everything else disappears. He hoped all of the . . . more What Happens Next Shirley McPhillips I found my notes for "What Happens Next" in the notebook I took in January to Poetry Week in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. There, I escaped the deepening light of winter back home to rise each day at Hotel Posada de las Monjas, settle my chair in a rooftop niche in this former convent to write and study. . . . more The Rolling Pin: Looking into Things Shirley McPhillips Julian looks long at the slipper shell, one he has brought to school from his collection. When I kneel next to him at writing time he is turning it over in his hands. He remembers the time he and his friend Peter, walking a Cape Cod beach, found it. It was the last summer they had together. He wishes Peter hadn't had to move, he says, that he might see him again, hear him laugh. I ask Julian to write a few word sketches in his writers notebook, keeping to the present tense, as if what he sees in his mind's eye is happening right now. . . . more Messengers Shirley McPhillips I believe Ezra Pound when he said that "Literature is news that stays news," but we don't often get to hear our poets bring the news. When we do, we're apt to be informed in surprising ways . . . more Let's Get Some Attitude Shirley McPhillips When Edna Mae Pruitt got her back up in eighth grade everybody listened. She didn't get riled easily, but when she did everybody sat back for the gusher. One day in English Composition class Carlyle Keely within her hearing, poor boy, made the mistake of telling Franklin Colley that Geraldine would never get a boyfriend because she was too smart. Boys didn't like girls who were known to be smart. They were scary. Whoosh! Old Faithful... . . . more