By an educator in a Chabad school

I’d like to share a personal experience, and then explain why I believe it is relevant to you, the reader.

Growing up, my parents were divorced. Life was not simple, but the most difficult time for me was Shabbos.

Shabbos is meant to be a day spent with family. It’s a day when children are not in school and are at home, together.

Although there’s an option to go to a friend’s house, this wasn’t always possible for me. And even when I did, I still felt different. I would see a family that looked “complete” and “regular,” and the contrast was painful.

Then, when I returned home, the pain resurfaced; there was no father to make Kiddush or Havdalah.

Baruch Hashem, today I am happily married.

Why am I sharing this with you, the reader?

Let me explain. I am now a teacher. A week ago, on a Sunday, I noticed that a certain boy was acting quite unusually. While I was teaching, a very disrespectful word slipped out of his mouth. Later, I noticed again that his behavior seemed off.

I became curious about what might be going on. During the break, I called him over and started a quiet conversation. I asked him how his Shabbos had been. He answered that it was “boring” and “bad.” He avoided eye contact, and it was clear to me that his Shabbos had been difficult.

I was already aware of a challenge within his family, and it suddenly made sense. While his situation did not involve divorce, he was carrying a lot of pain.

This understanding explained his behavior, and it made it much easier for me to respond with gentleness.

A similar – though not identical – case occurred the previous year. There was a boy whose parents were divorced. Almost every Sunday, and sometimes Monday as well, a major conflict would arise involving him. At first, I struggled to understand why these incidents kept happening. Then it hit me: they were almost always right after Shabbos.

The following Sunday, I spoke with the boy and asked him how his Shabbos had been. He chose to open up. He explained that every week he packed his bags and went to a different parent for Shabbos. He was relieved to be able to share his experience with someone.

From that point on, every Sunday morning, I would proactively approach him during the break and ask how his Shabbos had been. I would listen for just a minute. While the change was not dramatic, I noticed that he was calmer throughout the day.

Each year, I see firsthand how common situations like these are.

I am sharing all of this for one reason. When Sunday comes, children are often tired. But some children are not only tired – they’re in pain. They are emotionally exhausted from the strain they experienced over Shabbos and Motzei Shabbos.

As teachers, as friends, every act of gentleness we show a child on Sunday is priceless. You are doing something truly invaluable for that child.

I would also like to say the following to parents: When a child “acts up” or “misbehaves” at the Shabbos table (or at any other time), it can be very helpful to pause and ask: Is something bothering my child? Is there something causing them pain? Is there something I can do to help my child feel safer and more comfortable?

After all, our role as parents is not only to get children to “behave.” Our role is also to meet their needs, both physical needs, such as food and rest, and emotional needs, such as feeling safe, heard, understood, and accepted.

Together, may we be zocheh to give our children the gift of a true “Yom Menucha,” a day of rest and serenity.

And may we merit the ultimate “Yom Shekulo Shabbos u’Menucha,” the time of Moshiach, now.