Four or five Points of Light

[Edited for veracity- Ed.]
Stately Parsons Hall has a problem with doors. There is a pair of doors in the front that, if the wrong one is used, will not close. This leads to security concerns when the building's meant to be locked, and also to massive heat loss over the winter. I have watched hundreds of students blithely push on the wrong door, and when it fails to open easily, just push it harder and walk away as it fails to close.
The other day, I overheard the following exchange between a few students who'd just come in:
Girl: You used the wrong door!
Boy: So?
Girl: So it doesn't close! And...
and on down the hall they went. This was the biggest single reason for hope in the future that I've seen in maybe years: A young person was paying attention to her surroundings. I bet she's the type who even looks both ways before crossing the street- an uncommon behavior on campus.
So, children being the future, I was much encouraged by this. Until later that day. Later that day, I met four much better causes for hope. If the first girl was a point of light, these were supernovae.
My friend and roomate-to-be Ann was surprised with a birthday party the other night. In attendence, among others, were children named Max, William, Dora, and Bean. Let me start by relating the cards the three eldest made for the birthday girl.
Max made a card whose insides featured a variety of animals making animal noises and wishing Ann a happy birthday. An alligator, a monkey, a fly, a snake, and more. The snake has just failed to catch the fly, and says, 'Damn! I missed!' while the fly rejoices, 'Thank God! Happy birthday! Bzzzz!' He is 11.
Seven-yearold William's card featured some type of toothy dog attacking a stickman's tookus. The butt in question had a flap torn out with a rubber band, possibly so you could move his can out of harm's way. On the back was drawn a man being shot. There was also a legend included, explaining that dark circles represented bullets, and red drops were blood.
Dora made a round card with layers on the front making a bow, like would be tied around a box of chocolates. Inside the card is a rendition of Dora handing Ann the self-same card. Self-referential art at five years old.
I only met young Bean briefly. He spent most of the time hanging on his mother like a tiny baby monkey. When she told him to say Hi to me, he mumbled something that was obviously over par for a toddler. I later learned that he was inviting me for a ride in his spaceship.
They have a band, these children. I can't remember the name, but it's basically what you'd expect- The Well-Aged Cheeses, something like that. [The Creepy Muffins- Ed.] I don't know about Max, but William plays violin and has offered to teach Ann how to play. Dora is the drummer, and when they start playing shows, is going to play wearing only pants. Because drummers never wear shirts.
    So I'm a little more hopeful about the future. Under this American presidency, a lot of people have feared the setting up of an empire of fools, ruled quite rightly by the biggest idiot the people could find. I now have hope.
    I now have hope that when the people are broken and finally wholly subjugated, when our cruel overlords seek superiority through eugenics of their own bloodlines and dysgenics of the rest (to quell competition), when they seek their very immortality through cybernetics, that those rulers will truly be, like so much Dalek, the Superior Beings.