On September 1, children and youth "returned to routine." But to what routine, exactly, are we asking them to return? My daughter alone has been to more funerals this year than I have in my entire long life. I look at her and ask myself: What does this do to a girl? What does this do to an entire generation? They have gone through war after war, loss, fear, and long months of uncertainty. They saw adults who didn’t always succeed in protecting them, systems that weren’t always there when needed, and a society where discourse has become more violent, polarized, and boundaryless.

And then we encounter their anger. At ELEM / Youth in Distress in Israel, we meet it everywhere — on the street, online, in schools, and in our centers. Sometimes it sounds like "I don't have the energy," sometimes like "nobody understands me," and sometimes like "I'm just scared." And sometimes it comes out as violence, self-harm or harm to others, drinking, addiction, or simply disappearing. It is easy to look at angry youth and ask what happened to them, but maybe it's time to ask what happened to us. Because part of their anger isn't a glitch that needs fixing, but simply a response to reality.

They look at us and learn. We tell them to respect those who think differently, but they see how we speak to one another. We teach that violence is a red line, but they live in a society where violence, humiliation, and hatred are increasingly becoming legitimate language. We talk to them about values, responsibility, and the sanctity of life, but they are growing up in a reality where death and loss have become almost daily occurrences. We get angry when they don't trust adults and systems. But maybe before we demand their trust, we should ask what we've done to earn it.

This isn't just a question for the education system. The systems meant to hold our children — education, welfare, and mental health — are battered and worn down. Reality has changed at a dizzying pace, and they aren't managing to change along with it. The professionals are doing extraordinary work, but we cannot continue expecting good people to compensate with their own bodies for a system that cannot withstand the load. It is also our responsibility, as parents and adults, to know where our children are. To ask. To listen. To set boundaries. Not to be afraid to be the adult who says "no." And above all — to understand that sometimes, behind a child who makes us angry is a child who is angry at the world, and they have quite a few reasons to be.

And in these days when Israel is approaching an election season, amidst all the noise, I am also looking for the youth. We will hear a lot about security, the economy, the cost of living, identity, and the future of the State, but who is truly putting children and youth at the top of the priority list? Not as a slogan, not in a phrase about "the future generation," but in budgets, work plans, rebuilding systems, and the ability to see a child before they become a headline. Because children don't live according to the division of responsibilities between government ministries, and their distress certainly doesn't.

And inside all of this, I believe deeply in our youth. I know their strengths, their sensitivity, their activism, and their desire for change, and even their anger shows that they haven't given up on us yet.