Noor Rehman was standing at the beginning of his third-grade classroom, clutching his report card with unsteady hands. Top position. Once more. His instructor beamed with joy. His fellow students clapped. For a brief, precious moment, the 9-year-old boy thought his hopes of being a soldier—of helping his nation, of making his parents pleased—were attainable.
That was 90 days ago.
At present, Noor doesn't attend school. He assists his dad in the woodworking shop, mastering to sand furniture in place of learning mathematics. His school attire rests in the closet, unused but neat. His learning materials sit arranged in the corner, their sheets no longer flipping.
Noor didn't fail. His family did their absolute best. And nevertheless, it wasn't enough.
This is the narrative of how poverty doesn't just limit opportunity—it eliminates it wholly, even for the brightest children who do all that's required and more.
Despite Outstanding Achievement Isn't Adequate
Noor Rehman's father toils as a craftsman in Laliyani, a small town in Kasur district, Punjab, Pakistan. He is experienced. He is industrious. He leaves home ahead of sunrise and comes back after nightfall, his hands calloused from decades of crafting wood into items, entries, and embellishments.
On successful months, he makes 20,000 rupees—approximately $70 USD. On lean months, less.
From that wages, his household of six must pay for:
- Rent for their little home
- Food for 4
- Bills (power, more info water supply, fuel)
- Medicine when children fall ill
- Travel
- Clothing
- Other necessities
The calculations of financial hardship are straightforward and harsh. There's always a shortage. Every unit of currency is earmarked ahead of it's earned. Every selection is a selection between needs, not ever between essential items and luxury.
When Noor's school fees were required—together with charges for his brothers' and sisters' education—his father encountered an unworkable equation. The figures didn't balance. They don't do.
Some cost had to be eliminated. One child had to sacrifice.
Noor, as the eldest, realized first. He remains conscientious. He is sensible past his years. He knew what his parents wouldn't say aloud: his education was the outlay they could not any longer afford.
He did not cry. He did not complain. He only folded his school clothes, arranged his learning materials, and inquired of his father to instruct him the trade.
Because that's what young people in poor circumstances learn first—how to relinquish their dreams silently, without weighing down parents who are already managing greater weight than they can sustain.