A Different Kind of Special Education
How much do you see when you look at David Plant? Do you see his age or his graying hair? Does the way he stares at you make you feel uncomfortable? Do you smile at him or do you walk away?
Oh, how much you miss when you don’t stay to look a little deeper. David looks like you or I, only happier somehow, and it shows on the outside. His glee, his wonder and his eagerness to befriend, sit right on the surface for the whole world to see. Isn’t it odd how excessive happiness can make some of us uneasy?
For those of you who fit in that shortsighted category, I’d like to be the first to tell you what you’ve missed.
You see, David is an artist, painting and drawing mythical and magical beings with professional precision and whimsical delight. He’s never been married, but he has loved, probably more deeply than most of us are capable of. He attends church and he has a cat named Moose. He values his friends and is always there for them when they need him, not simply when it’s convenient for him, but always. He speaks highly of those he’s closest to, and still gives the people who have wronged him the benefit of the doubt, sighting that they have “a good heart” underneath it all.
I’m thankful every day that I was not shortsighted or in a hurry or otherwise distracted when I met David. In getting to know him, I see the world in a much brighter light, and to think that something as commonplace as a plastic bag nearly kept us from meeting.
When we became better friends, David confided in me that he has a learning disability. At one year of age, David crawled into a closet where he found a plastic bag and put it over his head. “My sister found me in the closet.” He told me, “And I was unconscious.”
Doctor’s were able to save him, but not before his brain was deprived of too much oxygen, leaving him with an irreparable learning disability called Dysphasia.
The school system required him to stay in Special Education classes, but as he grew, he quickly discovered that he had a fondness and an exceptional ability to create art.
It was in these classes where he met Karen Powers when they were both teenagers. Karen – herself a poet – appreciated David’s art and the two quickly became friends.
David knew from a very early age that he was in love with Karen; a happy, chestnut-haired girl with black frame glasses and a learning disability of her own. They grew together, attending school and college together, their friendship ever-blossoming along the way.
Being bashful to a fault, David tells me, “I wanted to take her to my senior prom, but I was too shy to ask her. I was young.” David said with a flush to his jolly cheeks. “I didn’t know any better.”
The years went by and David attended Skyline College and the prestigious Academy of Fine Arts, all the while, his shyness prevented him from asking Karen to marry him. He wanted nothing more than to have a wife and family of his own.
When he finally got up the nerve to propose, Karen turned him down. “She had to stay and take care of her dad, because he was sick and needed care, and I understood that, but I really wanted to marry her.”
Eventually, Karen’s dad passed away. Karen herself passed away shortly thereafter. David speaks of the loss of his love with fleeting grief, as if he is compelled to think of the brighter side of things.
After her death, he moved to Chico to be near his sister. Now, he makes his living selling his drawings and sketches at Art, etc. as well as painting murals for private parties. “I wish (Karen) was alive right now. Everything I do, I do it to honor her.” He tells me with a certainty that cannot be disputed.
Filled with childlike wonder, David looks forward to each day as a new adventure. He carries pictures of beautiful places with him as well as pictures of his Karen. He had big dreams and big hopes. Someday he’d like to illustrate children’s books. For these big dreams, one must possess a big heart, and David Plant does have a big heart, in a big, big way. There’s always room for one more inside his spacious spirit. If you’d just take a moment and say hello, you’ll walk away a better person for it.
For those of you who are still skeptics, David has touched the lives of all he has come in contact with, whether it be in the simplicity of the smile he sends you on the bus, or the complexity of the emotions he stirs within you when you admire a piece of his art. It’s not fair to call him disabled. If anything, we are the ones that need “Special Education.”
*At David’s request, all proceeds or donations resulting from this series of articles are to be donated to California Vocations, Inc. in Paradise, California in order to help individuals with developmental disabilities find jobs in their community.
Please send donations to:
California Vocations, Inc.
RE: David Plant
P.O. Box 538 Paradise, Ca 95927
*Would you like to see the artwork of David Plant? You can find his collection at Art, etc. 122 W. 3rd St. Chico, California 95928. (530) 895-1661
How much do you see when you look at David Plant? Do you see his age or his graying hair? Does the way he stares at you make you feel uncomfortable? Do you smile at him or do you walk away?
Oh, how much you miss when you don’t stay to look a little deeper. David looks like you or I, only happier somehow, and it shows on the outside. His glee, his wonder and his eagerness to befriend, sit right on the surface for the whole world to see. Isn’t it odd how excessive happiness can make some of us uneasy?
For those of you who fit in that shortsighted category, I’d like to be the first to tell you what you’ve missed.
You see, David is an artist, painting and drawing mythical and magical beings with professional precision and whimsical delight. He’s never been married, but he has loved, probably more deeply than most of us are capable of. He attends church and he has a cat named Moose. He values his friends and is always there for them when they need him, not simply when it’s convenient for him, but always. He speaks highly of those he’s closest to, and still gives the people who have wronged him the benefit of the doubt, sighting that they have “a good heart” underneath it all.
I’m thankful every day that I was not shortsighted or in a hurry or otherwise distracted when I met David. In getting to know him, I see the world in a much brighter light, and to think that something as commonplace as a plastic bag nearly kept us from meeting.
When we became better friends, David confided in me that he has a learning disability. At one year of age, David crawled into a closet where he found a plastic bag and put it over his head. “My sister found me in the closet.” He told me, “And I was unconscious.”
Doctor’s were able to save him, but not before his brain was deprived of too much oxygen, leaving him with an irreparable learning disability called Dysphasia.
The school system required him to stay in Special Education classes, but as he grew, he quickly discovered that he had a fondness and an exceptional ability to create art.
It was in these classes where he met Karen Powers when they were both teenagers. Karen – herself a poet – appreciated David’s art and the two quickly became friends.
David knew from a very early age that he was in love with Karen; a happy, chestnut-haired girl with black frame glasses and a learning disability of her own. They grew together, attending school and college together, their friendship ever-blossoming along the way.
Being bashful to a fault, David tells me, “I wanted to take her to my senior prom, but I was too shy to ask her. I was young.” David said with a flush to his jolly cheeks. “I didn’t know any better.”
The years went by and David attended Skyline College and the prestigious Academy of Fine Arts, all the while, his shyness prevented him from asking Karen to marry him. He wanted nothing more than to have a wife and family of his own.
When he finally got up the nerve to propose, Karen turned him down. “She had to stay and take care of her dad, because he was sick and needed care, and I understood that, but I really wanted to marry her.”
Eventually, Karen’s dad passed away. Karen herself passed away shortly thereafter. David speaks of the loss of his love with fleeting grief, as if he is compelled to think of the brighter side of things.
After her death, he moved to Chico to be near his sister. Now, he makes his living selling his drawings and sketches at Art, etc. as well as painting murals for private parties. “I wish (Karen) was alive right now. Everything I do, I do it to honor her.” He tells me with a certainty that cannot be disputed.
Filled with childlike wonder, David looks forward to each day as a new adventure. He carries pictures of beautiful places with him as well as pictures of his Karen. He had big dreams and big hopes. Someday he’d like to illustrate children’s books. For these big dreams, one must possess a big heart, and David Plant does have a big heart, in a big, big way. There’s always room for one more inside his spacious spirit. If you’d just take a moment and say hello, you’ll walk away a better person for it.
For those of you who are still skeptics, David has touched the lives of all he has come in contact with, whether it be in the simplicity of the smile he sends you on the bus, or the complexity of the emotions he stirs within you when you admire a piece of his art. It’s not fair to call him disabled. If anything, we are the ones that need “Special Education.”
*At David’s request, all proceeds or donations resulting from this series of articles are to be donated to California Vocations, Inc. in Paradise, California in order to help individuals with developmental disabilities find jobs in their community.
Please send donations to:
California Vocations, Inc.
RE: David Plant
P.O. Box 538 Paradise, Ca 95927
*Would you like to see the artwork of David Plant? You can find his collection at Art, etc. 122 W. 3rd St. Chico, California 95928. (530) 895-1661
Content copyright (c) Jennifer B. Fields 2010-2017