My English teacher, who had given me an F the first semester, not only encouraged me and my SO, but sent one of my poems to a scholastic publisher, where I was picked up and published. They published a soft bound quarterly, and a hard bound yearly which included the best poems from the quarterlies. I made both. The book sits on my bookshelf to this day.
She turned me on to Arthur Rimbaud, probably because she saw that relationship between me and my boyfriend. I was immature, very young looking, and the recessive one in the relationship. I fell in love with the writing of Rimbaud, and I hold his poetry sacred to this day.
Like Rimbaud, I suddenly stopped writing, left my present lifestyle, and lived a very different life. It's almost surreal when you think about it.