The Kindest Villain

Emma's parents figured her character would get one skit in GAP's senior play. Amme took over the whole show, and taught their daughter to speak up.

The most polite person in the class of 2026 spent her final semester calling people nerds. Her parents had no idea.

Her name is Emma. The character is Amme. "She's like a bad girl biker," Emma says. "She's in a biker gang. And she also smokes bubbles." Amme wears red sunglasses and has a ready insult for anyone in her way: theater nerd, iPad kid, plain nerd. And she's played by someone Justin Sousa, the GAP classroom advisor who has been with her class since their first day, describes first as nice and polite. Spell Emma backwards and you get Amme. Run her personality backwards and you get the same character.

All of it happened in the Gottschall Access Program (GAP), the three-year college program that Community Autism Resources (CAR) runs at Bristol Community College in Fall River, where every senior class ends with a production in the campus theater.

Emma, a GAP student in sunglasses and a red hoodie, leans against a brick wall with her arms crossed and one foot propped behind her.
Emma, a GAP student in a red hoodie, sits for a filmed interview onstage, a camera on a tripod at left, videographer Adam Zeidman at right and a laptop monitor in the foreground.
Emma, a GAP student in red sunglasses, a blue T-shirt and plaid shorts, blows through a bubble wand beside a table as cast members stand in the foreground.
Emma, a GAP student in sunglasses and a blue T-shirt, holds a bubble wand and looks at a cast member beside her, bubbles floating between them.
Emma, a GAP student in sunglasses and a red hoodie, leans against a brick wall with her arms crossed and one foot propped behind her.
Emma, a GAP student in a red hoodie, sits for a filmed interview onstage, a camera on a tripod at left, videographer Adam Zeidman at right and a laptop monitor in the foreground.
Emma, a GAP student in red sunglasses, a blue T-shirt and plaid shorts, blows through a bubble wand beside a table as cast members stand in the foreground.
Emma, a GAP student in sunglasses and a blue T-shirt, holds a bubble wand and looks at a cast member beside her, bubbles floating between them.
Emma, a GAP student in sunglasses, thrusts one finger high in the air mid-scene as cast members watch with their backs to the camera.

Give the nice one the villain


A character can say what someone isn't ready to say as themselves

Amme started as a throwaway joke. While the seniors were writing, someone suggested Emma interrupt a classmate in the first scene. One laugh, then on to the next thing.

Then Emma told Justin, after class, that she liked being the bad guy.

"And I was like, all right, that's the story," he says. "That's the whole thing from now on."

Here's why that mattered. Emma cares about being known as a nice person, and she is one. Being blunt, being loud, saying flatly what she wants: those never fit the person she wanted to be. Amme gave her a way around that. The rudeness belonged to the character, so Emma could try it on every week, in a room that laughed and cheered, without trading away who she is. Asked what she can do on stage now that she couldn't before, she didn't need long:

"Be louder. And meaner."

It hasn't stayed on stage. Lately her dad has started seeing a less polite side of her at home, and that's the good news. Emma has learned to speak up for what she wants, and to do it in a way that still lets her be the nice one.

Emma, a GAP student in red sunglasses and a red hoodie, stands with a deadpan face behind seated cast members, a pink tumbler on the table beside them.
Four cast members sit at tables at the front of the stage, Emma, a GAP student in sunglasses and a red hoodie, gesturing as she delivers a line.
In black and white, Emma, a GAP student in a T-shirt and plaid shorts, sunglasses pushed up on her head, glances over her shoulder in the wings.
Emma, a GAP student in a red hoodie, sunglasses pushed up on her head, sits with her hands together and looks off camera, rows of empty red seats behind her.
Emma, a GAP student in sunglasses, thrusts one finger high in the air mid-scene as cast members watch with their backs to the camera.

Give the nice one the villain


A character can say what someone isn't ready to say as themselves

Amme started as a throwaway joke. While the seniors were writing, someone suggested Emma interrupt a classmate in the first scene. One laugh, then on to the next thing.

Then Emma told Justin, after class, that she liked being the bad guy.

"And I was like, all right, that's the story," he says. "That's the whole thing from now on."

Here's why that mattered. Emma cares about being known as a nice person, and she is one. Being blunt, being loud, saying flatly what she wants: those never fit the person she wanted to be. Amme gave her a way around that. The rudeness belonged to the character, so Emma could try it on every week, in a room that laughed and cheered, without trading away who she is. Asked what she can do on stage now that she couldn't before, she didn't need long:

"Be louder. And meaner."

It hasn't stayed on stage. Lately her dad has started seeing a less polite side of her at home, and that's the good news. Emma has learned to speak up for what she wants, and to do it in a way that still lets her be the nice one.

Emma, a GAP student in red sunglasses and a red hoodie, stands with a deadpan face behind seated cast members, a pink tumbler on the table beside them.
Four cast members sit at tables at the front of the stage, Emma, a GAP student in sunglasses and a red hoodie, gesturing as she delivers a line.
In black and white, Emma, a GAP student in a T-shirt and plaid shorts, sunglasses pushed up on her head, glances over her shoulder in the wings.
Emma, a GAP student in a red hoodie, sunglasses pushed up on her head, sits with her hands together and looks off camera, rows of empty red seats behind her.
Emma, a GAP student in sunglasses, thrusts one finger high in the air mid-scene as cast members watch with their backs to the camera.

Give the nice one the villain


A character can say what someone isn't ready to say as themselves

Amme started as a throwaway joke. While the seniors were writing, someone suggested Emma interrupt a classmate in the first scene. One laugh, then on to the next thing.

Then Emma told Justin, after class, that she liked being the bad guy.

"And I was like, all right, that's the story," he says. "That's the whole thing from now on."

Here's why that mattered. Emma cares about being known as a nice person, and she is one. Being blunt, being loud, saying flatly what she wants: those never fit the person she wanted to be. Amme gave her a way around that. The rudeness belonged to the character, so Emma could try it on every week, in a room that laughed and cheered, without trading away who she is. Asked what she can do on stage now that she couldn't before, she didn't need long:

"Be louder. And meaner."

It hasn't stayed on stage. Lately her dad has started seeing a less polite side of her at home, and that's the good news. Emma has learned to speak up for what she wants, and to do it in a way that still lets her be the nice one.

Emma, a GAP student in red sunglasses and a red hoodie, stands with a deadpan face behind seated cast members, a pink tumbler on the table beside them.
Four cast members sit at tables at the front of the stage, Emma, a GAP student in sunglasses and a red hoodie, gesturing as she delivers a line.
In black and white, Emma, a GAP student in a T-shirt and plaid shorts, sunglasses pushed up on her head, glances over her shoulder in the wings.
Emma, a GAP student in a red hoodie, sunglasses pushed up on her head, sits with her hands together and looks off camera, rows of empty red seats behind her.
Theatre instructor Jeff Blanchette throws one arm up toward the Senior Showcase chalkboard as Justin, a GAP classroom aide, spreads his arms wide beside him, the cast in the foreground.

Build the play around the people in it


When the script comes from the room, everyone fits in it

This class was a mix: a few writers, a few would-be actors, and a lot of people who mostly loved being part of something. So instead of handing them a script, Justin wrote one out of what happened in class. "I sort of turned the process into the product," he says.

The play bent to fit the cast, too. Seniors who knew their lines but didn't trust their memory on the day filmed their scenes ahead of time, and those played on a screen during the show. At rehearsal, nobody had to sit still between scenes. Justin and Jeff Blanchette, who teaches GAP's theatre track, wrote themselves in as the dumbest versions of themselves, so the seniors could laugh at them.

The story found its heart the same way. Amme needed a reason to push people away, and Justin gave her one: she's afraid to move on. "It's harder to say bye to people that you like," he says. Across the stage, Grace played a character so stuck in the past she couldn't stop reminiscing. A class about to leave had written a play about leaving. Emma said her last day would feel weird. Asked how it felt, she said, "Happy and a little sad."

In the final scene, her classmates tell her what Amme did for the room. Justin told her that watching the kindest person they knew have that much fun being rude "lightened everything."

Cast members sit at folding tables in front of a large screen showing a pre-recorded scene of a young woman in glasses talking with an orange puppet with blue hair.
A young woman in a pink plaid shirt stands smiling at a table as seated cast members look on.
The cast sits in a row at two long tables across a purple-lit stage, one young man raising both fists overhead.
Cast members seated at tables onstage turn toward the camera, a young man in a teal shirt smiling near the chalkboard.
Theatre instructor Jeff Blanchette throws one arm up toward the Senior Showcase chalkboard as Justin, a GAP classroom aide, spreads his arms wide beside him, the cast in the foreground.

Build the play around the people in it


When the script comes from the room, everyone fits in it

This class was a mix: a few writers, a few would-be actors, and a lot of people who mostly loved being part of something. So instead of handing them a script, Justin wrote one out of what happened in class. "I sort of turned the process into the product," he says.

The play bent to fit the cast, too. Seniors who knew their lines but didn't trust their memory on the day filmed their scenes ahead of time, and those played on a screen during the show. At rehearsal, nobody had to sit still between scenes. Justin and Jeff Blanchette, who teaches GAP's theatre track, wrote themselves in as the dumbest versions of themselves, so the seniors could laugh at them.

The story found its heart the same way. Amme needed a reason to push people away, and Justin gave her one: she's afraid to move on. "It's harder to say bye to people that you like," he says. Across the stage, Grace played a character so stuck in the past she couldn't stop reminiscing. A class about to leave had written a play about leaving. Emma said her last day would feel weird. Asked how it felt, she said, "Happy and a little sad."

In the final scene, her classmates tell her what Amme did for the room. Justin told her that watching the kindest person they knew have that much fun being rude "lightened everything."

Cast members sit at folding tables in front of a large screen showing a pre-recorded scene of a young woman in glasses talking with an orange puppet with blue hair.
A young woman in a pink plaid shirt stands smiling at a table as seated cast members look on.
The cast sits in a row at two long tables across a purple-lit stage, one young man raising both fists overhead.
Cast members seated at tables onstage turn toward the camera, a young man in a teal shirt smiling near the chalkboard.
Theatre instructor Jeff Blanchette throws one arm up toward the Senior Showcase chalkboard as Justin, a GAP classroom aide, spreads his arms wide beside him, the cast in the foreground.

Build the play around the people in it


When the script comes from the room, everyone fits in it

This class was a mix: a few writers, a few would-be actors, and a lot of people who mostly loved being part of something. So instead of handing them a script, Justin wrote one out of what happened in class. "I sort of turned the process into the product," he says.

The play bent to fit the cast, too. Seniors who knew their lines but didn't trust their memory on the day filmed their scenes ahead of time, and those played on a screen during the show. At rehearsal, nobody had to sit still between scenes. Justin and Jeff Blanchette, who teaches GAP's theatre track, wrote themselves in as the dumbest versions of themselves, so the seniors could laugh at them.

The story found its heart the same way. Amme needed a reason to push people away, and Justin gave her one: she's afraid to move on. "It's harder to say bye to people that you like," he says. Across the stage, Grace played a character so stuck in the past she couldn't stop reminiscing. A class about to leave had written a play about leaving. Emma said her last day would feel weird. Asked how it felt, she said, "Happy and a little sad."

In the final scene, her classmates tell her what Amme did for the room. Justin told her that watching the kindest person they knew have that much fun being rude "lightened everything."

Cast members sit at folding tables in front of a large screen showing a pre-recorded scene of a young woman in glasses talking with an orange puppet with blue hair.
A young woman in a pink plaid shirt stands smiling at a table as seated cast members look on.
The cast sits in a row at two long tables across a purple-lit stage, one young man raising both fists overhead.
Cast members seated at tables onstage turn toward the camera, a young man in a teal shirt smiling near the chalkboard.
Justin, a GAP classroom aide in glasses and a denim vest, sits on a folding chair beside the Senior Showcase chalkboard, hands clasped, smiling as he talks.

When the school bus stops coming


GAP gives adults three years after high school to find out what fits

Ask Emma's mom about the start of all this and she goes straight to the fear.

"I think every parent in this audience was terrified when their kids graduated from high school."

Emma finished high school, and her family didn't know what came next. She started GAP getting herself to campus on public transportation, on her own. Within two or three weeks, her mom says, she felt at home: she loved the staff and she loved her classmates. Three years later, her mom credits GAP's structure with getting the whole family through. Emma, she says, "explored parts of her personality and talents that we didn't know she had."

That's the job GAP was built for. For twelve years, school hands you a schedule and a room full of people you see every day. Then it ends, and for a lot of young adults the days go quiet. Justin puts GAP's job in one line: "to be the people when you have no people." Two full days a week, students sit at college desks, eat in the campus cafeteria and move from class to class, while the same classroom advisor stays with their group all day. Afterward, some go on to college classes, some to jobs, some to a day program. Three years is time to find out which one fits.

GAP turns ten this fall, and the whole program is designed to put a lot in front of people. Every student takes three core tracks. Life Skills covers social skills, self-awareness and self-advocacy, independent living, money, home economics and work skills. Theatre runs all three years and ends on that stage. Health and Wellness rounds it out. On top of that come enrichment classes that change every semester with whatever students want to learn, mixed across all three years. And in their last year, seniors can do a 20-hour internship, in one of GAP's regular settings or, when it can be arranged, somewhere they're curious about, like health care, animal care or a radio station. Nobody has to know what comes next on day one. That's what the three years are for.

A smiling young woman in overalls sits on the edge of the stage with her feet up and a green tumbler in hand, while Justin, a GAP classroom aide in a denim vest, stands nearby with his hands on his hips.
A young man in glasses and a black cartoon T-shirt smiles across the stage as cast members mingle by the chalkboard between scenes.
In black and white, Justin, a GAP classroom aide, spreads his arms and smiles in front of the chalkboard as Kate Dansereau, Co-Executive Director of Community Autism Resources, grins beside him.
In black and white, a young man laughs as he rises from his theater seat, one hand on the armrest, a man in a polo beside him looking at his lap.
Justin, a GAP classroom aide in glasses and a denim vest, sits on a folding chair beside the Senior Showcase chalkboard, hands clasped, smiling as he talks.

When the school bus stops coming


GAP gives adults three years after high school to find out what fits

Ask Emma's mom about the start of all this and she goes straight to the fear.

"I think every parent in this audience was terrified when their kids graduated from high school."

Emma finished high school, and her family didn't know what came next. She started GAP getting herself to campus on public transportation, on her own. Within two or three weeks, her mom says, she felt at home: she loved the staff and she loved her classmates. Three years later, her mom credits GAP's structure with getting the whole family through. Emma, she says, "explored parts of her personality and talents that we didn't know she had."

That's the job GAP was built for. For twelve years, school hands you a schedule and a room full of people you see every day. Then it ends, and for a lot of young adults the days go quiet. Justin puts GAP's job in one line: "to be the people when you have no people." Two full days a week, students sit at college desks, eat in the campus cafeteria and move from class to class, while the same classroom advisor stays with their group all day. Afterward, some go on to college classes, some to jobs, some to a day program. Three years is time to find out which one fits.

GAP turns ten this fall, and the whole program is designed to put a lot in front of people. Every student takes three core tracks. Life Skills covers social skills, self-awareness and self-advocacy, independent living, money, home economics and work skills. Theatre runs all three years and ends on that stage. Health and Wellness rounds it out. On top of that come enrichment classes that change every semester with whatever students want to learn, mixed across all three years. And in their last year, seniors can do a 20-hour internship, in one of GAP's regular settings or, when it can be arranged, somewhere they're curious about, like health care, animal care or a radio station. Nobody has to know what comes next on day one. That's what the three years are for.

A smiling young woman in overalls sits on the edge of the stage with her feet up and a green tumbler in hand, while Justin, a GAP classroom aide in a denim vest, stands nearby with his hands on his hips.
A young man in glasses and a black cartoon T-shirt smiles across the stage as cast members mingle by the chalkboard between scenes.
In black and white, Justin, a GAP classroom aide, spreads his arms and smiles in front of the chalkboard as Kate Dansereau, Co-Executive Director of Community Autism Resources, grins beside him.
In black and white, a young man laughs as he rises from his theater seat, one hand on the armrest, a man in a polo beside him looking at his lap.
Justin, a GAP classroom aide in glasses and a denim vest, sits on a folding chair beside the Senior Showcase chalkboard, hands clasped, smiling as he talks.

When the school bus stops coming


GAP gives adults three years after high school to find out what fits

Ask Emma's mom about the start of all this and she goes straight to the fear.

"I think every parent in this audience was terrified when their kids graduated from high school."

Emma finished high school, and her family didn't know what came next. She started GAP getting herself to campus on public transportation, on her own. Within two or three weeks, her mom says, she felt at home: she loved the staff and she loved her classmates. Three years later, her mom credits GAP's structure with getting the whole family through. Emma, she says, "explored parts of her personality and talents that we didn't know she had."

That's the job GAP was built for. For twelve years, school hands you a schedule and a room full of people you see every day. Then it ends, and for a lot of young adults the days go quiet. Justin puts GAP's job in one line: "to be the people when you have no people." Two full days a week, students sit at college desks, eat in the campus cafeteria and move from class to class, while the same classroom advisor stays with their group all day. Afterward, some go on to college classes, some to jobs, some to a day program. Three years is time to find out which one fits.

GAP turns ten this fall, and the whole program is designed to put a lot in front of people. Every student takes three core tracks. Life Skills covers social skills, self-awareness and self-advocacy, independent living, money, home economics and work skills. Theatre runs all three years and ends on that stage. Health and Wellness rounds it out. On top of that come enrichment classes that change every semester with whatever students want to learn, mixed across all three years. And in their last year, seniors can do a 20-hour internship, in one of GAP's regular settings or, when it can be arranged, somewhere they're curious about, like health care, animal care or a radio station. Nobody has to know what comes next on day one. That's what the three years are for.

A smiling young woman in overalls sits on the edge of the stage with her feet up and a green tumbler in hand, while Justin, a GAP classroom aide in a denim vest, stands nearby with his hands on his hips.
A young man in glasses and a black cartoon T-shirt smiles across the stage as cast members mingle by the chalkboard between scenes.
In black and white, Justin, a GAP classroom aide, spreads his arms and smiles in front of the chalkboard as Kate Dansereau, Co-Executive Director of Community Autism Resources, grins beside him.
In black and white, a young man laughs as he rises from his theater seat, one hand on the armrest, a man in a polo beside him looking at his lap.
In a wide panorama, the cast lines the stage for the curtain call, some bowing and some waving, beside the Senior Showcase chalkboard.

The sunglasses come down


A standing ovation, and a family meeting Amme for the first time

Emma's parents knew exactly one thing about Amme when they took their seats on September 13: she was their daughter's favorite part of the semester. Emma had told them that much and not a word more. They didn't press. They wanted to see it fresh. "I thought it was maybe two minutes in one skit," her mom says.

Amme turned out to be the show.

The play ran about two hours. The ceremony after it ran 20 to 25 minutes, short on purpose, because a long program asks a lot of the people in the seats. Kate Dansereau, CAR's Co-Executive Director, called each graduate up by name and told the room something about them while Sarah Walkden, GAP's program coordinator, handed over the certificate. Then the whole auditorium watched a slideshow together, baby pictures first, then three years of GAP. When it ended, the class of 2026 took a bow, and the room stood up.

It was by far the biggest crowd Emma had ever been in front of. Her dad had seen flashes of confidence at earlier showcases, but nothing like this. Her mom put it plainly: "That confidence is something I would not have seen a couple of years ago."

Out in the lobby, her mom had one question for the crew who filmed it.

"You got Emma, right? Not Amme?"

By then the sunglasses had come down. Asked why she'd kept the whole thing from them, Emma had a simple answer. "I want to keep it a surprise."

What's next is still taking shape. Emma is working toward an associate's degree at BCC, she wants to work, and for now she's glad to have a little more free time. Her mom hopes the people from GAP stay part of her life. Amme spent a whole play afraid of exactly that kind of goodbye. Emma got to meet hers with a room on its feet.

A lot of us learned early that being kind and saying what you want can't live in the same person. Emma found a way to keep both. How many people around you are still waiting for their version of a pair of sunglasses and a stage?

If you know someone at the edge of that quiet stretch after high school, GAP starts with a visit. Come see it.

Cast members hold hands high and bow at the curtain call, Emma, a GAP student in a blue T-shirt, and Loren Botelho, in a gray T-shirt, raising their arms at left as the audience watches in silhouette.
At the curtain call, Emma, a GAP student in a blue T-shirt, claps as Loren Botelho, in glasses and a gray T-shirt, spreads her arms wide beside a young woman in a red plaid shirt.
Cast members bow and laugh at the curtain call, a young woman in a gingham top throwing her head back as the castmate beside her presses his hands together.
Emma, a GAP student in a blue T-shirt with sunglasses on her head, walks through the crowd in the lobby, guests seated around her.
Kate Dansereau, Co-Executive Director of Community Autism Resources, speaks at a Bristol Community College podium as the graduating class sits in a row across the stage, Justin, a GAP classroom aide, seated among them in a mustard blazer.
Kate Dansereau, Co-Executive Director of Community Autism Resources, smiles over her shoulder from the Bristol Community College podium as Sarah Walkden, Director of Healthy Relationships and PEERS at Community Autism Resources, applauds behind her and graduates look on.
A graduate in a light blue polo gives a thumbs-up to the room as Justin, a GAP classroom aide, and the other graduates applaud.
A graduate in a dark green polo throws both arms in the air, certificate in hand, as the seated graduates look on.
Beside the podium, a graduate in a floral dress and Sarah Walkden, Director of Healthy Relationships and PEERS at Community Autism Resources, share a long hug while Kate Dansereau, Co-Executive Director of Community Autism Resources, looks on.
In black and white, a graduate leaps into the air, certificate held high, as the seated graduates watch.
A graduate in glasses and a dark green polo spreads his arms wide, certificate in hand, as the graduates around him applaud.
Graduates, staff and guests gather for a group photo in front of a glowing green and blue backdrop, certificates in hand, Sarah Walkden, Director of Healthy Relationships and PEERS at Community Autism Resources, and Kate Dansereau, Co-Executive Director of Community Autism Resources, kneeling at front left.
In a wide panorama, the cast lines the stage for the curtain call, some bowing and some waving, beside the Senior Showcase chalkboard.

The sunglasses come down


A standing ovation, and a family meeting Amme for the first time

Emma's parents knew exactly one thing about Amme when they took their seats on September 13: she was their daughter's favorite part of the semester. Emma had told them that much and not a word more. They didn't press. They wanted to see it fresh. "I thought it was maybe two minutes in one skit," her mom says.

Amme turned out to be the show.

The play ran about two hours. The ceremony after it ran 20 to 25 minutes, short on purpose, because a long program asks a lot of the people in the seats. Kate Dansereau, CAR's Co-Executive Director, called each graduate up by name and told the room something about them while Sarah Walkden, GAP's program coordinator, handed over the certificate. Then the whole auditorium watched a slideshow together, baby pictures first, then three years of GAP. When it ended, the class of 2026 took a bow, and the room stood up.

It was by far the biggest crowd Emma had ever been in front of. Her dad had seen flashes of confidence at earlier showcases, but nothing like this. Her mom put it plainly: "That confidence is something I would not have seen a couple of years ago."

Out in the lobby, her mom had one question for the crew who filmed it.

"You got Emma, right? Not Amme?"

By then the sunglasses had come down. Asked why she'd kept the whole thing from them, Emma had a simple answer. "I want to keep it a surprise."

What's next is still taking shape. Emma is working toward an associate's degree at BCC, she wants to work, and for now she's glad to have a little more free time. Her mom hopes the people from GAP stay part of her life. Amme spent a whole play afraid of exactly that kind of goodbye. Emma got to meet hers with a room on its feet.

A lot of us learned early that being kind and saying what you want can't live in the same person. Emma found a way to keep both. How many people around you are still waiting for their version of a pair of sunglasses and a stage?

If you know someone at the edge of that quiet stretch after high school, GAP starts with a visit. Come see it.

Cast members hold hands high and bow at the curtain call, Emma, a GAP student in a blue T-shirt, and Loren Botelho, in a gray T-shirt, raising their arms at left as the audience watches in silhouette.
At the curtain call, Emma, a GAP student in a blue T-shirt, claps as Loren Botelho, in glasses and a gray T-shirt, spreads her arms wide beside a young woman in a red plaid shirt.
Cast members bow and laugh at the curtain call, a young woman in a gingham top throwing her head back as the castmate beside her presses his hands together.
Emma, a GAP student in a blue T-shirt with sunglasses on her head, walks through the crowd in the lobby, guests seated around her.
Kate Dansereau, Co-Executive Director of Community Autism Resources, speaks at a Bristol Community College podium as the graduating class sits in a row across the stage, Justin, a GAP classroom aide, seated among them in a mustard blazer.
Kate Dansereau, Co-Executive Director of Community Autism Resources, smiles over her shoulder from the Bristol Community College podium as Sarah Walkden, Director of Healthy Relationships and PEERS at Community Autism Resources, applauds behind her and graduates look on.
A graduate in a light blue polo gives a thumbs-up to the room as Justin, a GAP classroom aide, and the other graduates applaud.
A graduate in a dark green polo throws both arms in the air, certificate in hand, as the seated graduates look on.
Beside the podium, a graduate in a floral dress and Sarah Walkden, Director of Healthy Relationships and PEERS at Community Autism Resources, share a long hug while Kate Dansereau, Co-Executive Director of Community Autism Resources, looks on.
In black and white, a graduate leaps into the air, certificate held high, as the seated graduates watch.
A graduate in glasses and a dark green polo spreads his arms wide, certificate in hand, as the graduates around him applaud.
Graduates, staff and guests gather for a group photo in front of a glowing green and blue backdrop, certificates in hand, Sarah Walkden, Director of Healthy Relationships and PEERS at Community Autism Resources, and Kate Dansereau, Co-Executive Director of Community Autism Resources, kneeling at front left.
In a wide panorama, the cast lines the stage for the curtain call, some bowing and some waving, beside the Senior Showcase chalkboard.

The sunglasses come down


A standing ovation, and a family meeting Amme for the first time

Emma's parents knew exactly one thing about Amme when they took their seats on September 13: she was their daughter's favorite part of the semester. Emma had told them that much and not a word more. They didn't press. They wanted to see it fresh. "I thought it was maybe two minutes in one skit," her mom says.

Amme turned out to be the show.

The play ran about two hours. The ceremony after it ran 20 to 25 minutes, short on purpose, because a long program asks a lot of the people in the seats. Kate Dansereau, CAR's Co-Executive Director, called each graduate up by name and told the room something about them while Sarah Walkden, GAP's program coordinator, handed over the certificate. Then the whole auditorium watched a slideshow together, baby pictures first, then three years of GAP. When it ended, the class of 2026 took a bow, and the room stood up.

It was by far the biggest crowd Emma had ever been in front of. Her dad had seen flashes of confidence at earlier showcases, but nothing like this. Her mom put it plainly: "That confidence is something I would not have seen a couple of years ago."

Out in the lobby, her mom had one question for the crew who filmed it.

"You got Emma, right? Not Amme?"

By then the sunglasses had come down. Asked why she'd kept the whole thing from them, Emma had a simple answer. "I want to keep it a surprise."

What's next is still taking shape. Emma is working toward an associate's degree at BCC, she wants to work, and for now she's glad to have a little more free time. Her mom hopes the people from GAP stay part of her life. Amme spent a whole play afraid of exactly that kind of goodbye. Emma got to meet hers with a room on its feet.

A lot of us learned early that being kind and saying what you want can't live in the same person. Emma found a way to keep both. How many people around you are still waiting for their version of a pair of sunglasses and a stage?

If you know someone at the edge of that quiet stretch after high school, GAP starts with a visit. Come see it.

Cast members hold hands high and bow at the curtain call, Emma, a GAP student in a blue T-shirt, and Loren Botelho, in a gray T-shirt, raising their arms at left as the audience watches in silhouette.
At the curtain call, Emma, a GAP student in a blue T-shirt, claps as Loren Botelho, in glasses and a gray T-shirt, spreads her arms wide beside a young woman in a red plaid shirt.
Cast members bow and laugh at the curtain call, a young woman in a gingham top throwing her head back as the castmate beside her presses his hands together.
Emma, a GAP student in a blue T-shirt with sunglasses on her head, walks through the crowd in the lobby, guests seated around her.
Kate Dansereau, Co-Executive Director of Community Autism Resources, speaks at a Bristol Community College podium as the graduating class sits in a row across the stage, Justin, a GAP classroom aide, seated among them in a mustard blazer.
Kate Dansereau, Co-Executive Director of Community Autism Resources, smiles over her shoulder from the Bristol Community College podium as Sarah Walkden, Director of Healthy Relationships and PEERS at Community Autism Resources, applauds behind her and graduates look on.
A graduate in a light blue polo gives a thumbs-up to the room as Justin, a GAP classroom aide, and the other graduates applaud.
A graduate in a dark green polo throws both arms in the air, certificate in hand, as the seated graduates look on.
Beside the podium, a graduate in a floral dress and Sarah Walkden, Director of Healthy Relationships and PEERS at Community Autism Resources, share a long hug while Kate Dansereau, Co-Executive Director of Community Autism Resources, looks on.
In black and white, a graduate leaps into the air, certificate held high, as the seated graduates watch.
A graduate in glasses and a dark green polo spreads his arms wide, certificate in hand, as the graduates around him applaud.
Graduates, staff and guests gather for a group photo in front of a glowing green and blue backdrop, certificates in hand, Sarah Walkden, Director of Healthy Relationships and PEERS at Community Autism Resources, and Kate Dansereau, Co-Executive Director of Community Autism Resources, kneeling at front left.

ONE NUMBER
FOR ALL OF IT

A new diagnosis, a question about school, a plan for after 22.

508-379-0371

OFFICE

40 Dean St, Unit A,

Taunton, MA 02780

HOURS

Monday to Friday, 8am to 4pm

EMAIL

info@communityautism.org

PROGRAMS & SERVICES

Autism Waiver Program

Family Support

Assistive Technology

GAP

Individualized Support

College Navigation

Healthy Relationships & PEERS®

COMMUNITY

Calendar

Blog

CAR Cast

ABOUT

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Team

Contact Us

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Funded in part by the Massachusetts Department of Developmental Services. 501(c)(3) nonprofit.

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Accessibility

ONE NUMBER FOR ALL OF IT

A new diagnosis, a question about school, a plan for after 22.

508-379-0371

OFFICE

40 Dean St, Unit A,

Taunton, MA 02780

HOURS

Monday to Friday, 8am to 4pm

EMAIL

info@communityautism.org

PROGRAMS & SERVICES

Autism Waiver Program

Family Support

Assistive Technology

GAP

Individualized Support

College Navigation

Healthy Relationships & PEERS®

COMMUNITY

Calendar

Blog

CAR Cast

ABOUT

About Us

Team

Contact Us

Careers

Service Area

Funded in part by the Massachusetts Department of Developmental Services. 501(c)(3) nonprofit.

Privacy Policy

Disclaimer

Accessibility

ONE NUMBER
FOR ALL OF IT

A new diagnosis, a question about school, a plan for after 22.

508-379-0371

OFFICE

40 Dean St, Unit A,

Taunton, MA 02780

HOURS

Monday to Friday, 8am to 4pm

EMAIL

info@communityautism.org

PROGRAMS & SERVICES

Autism Waiver Program

Family Support

Assistive Technology

GAP

Individualized Support

College Navigation

Healthy Relationships & PEERS®

COMMUNITY

Calendar

Blog

CAR Cast

ABOUT

About Us

Team

Contact Us

Careers

Service Area

Funded in part by the Massachusetts Department of Developmental Services. 501(c)(3) nonprofit.

Privacy Policy

Disclaimer

Accessibility