Young Noor stood at the front of his third grade classroom, clutching his school grades with shaking hands. First place. Yet again. His instructor smiled with joy. His classmates clapped. For a momentary, precious moment, the young boy felt his dreams of turning into a soldier—of defending his country, of causing his parents proud—were achievable.
That was three months ago.
Today, Noor isn't in school. He's helping his father in the furniture workshop, studying to sand furniture rather than learning mathematics. His school attire remains in the cupboard, pristine but idle. His books sit stacked in the corner, their sheets no longer flipping.
Noor didn't fail. His parents did their absolute best. And even so, it fell short.
This is the narrative of how being poor goes beyond limiting opportunity—it removes it entirely, even for the most talented children who do all that's required and more.
Even when Outstanding Achievement Is Not Sufficient
Noor Rehman's parent works as a woodworker in the Laliyani area, a compact town in Kasur region, Punjab, Pakistan. He remains talented. He remains diligent. He departs home ahead of sunrise and gets home after dusk, his hands calloused from decades of creating wood into furniture, doorframes, and ornamental items.
On good months, he makes 20,000 Pakistani rupees—roughly $70 USD. On difficult months, considerably less.
From that wages, his family of six people must manage:
- Monthly rent for their little home
- Food for 4
- Bills (power, water, cooking gas)
- Healthcare costs when children become unwell
- Commute costs
- Clothes
- Everything else
The calculations of financial hardship are uncomplicated and harsh. Money never stretches. Every coin is committed prior to it's earned. Every choice is a decision between necessities, not once between essential items and convenience.
When Noor's tuition were required—in addition to fees for his brothers' and sisters' education—his father dealt with an impossible equation. The math failed Pakistan to reconcile. They not ever do.
Something had to be sacrificed. Someone had to give up.
Noor, as the senior child, understood first. He's mature. He remains grown-up past his years. He comprehended what his parents could not say openly: his education was the expenditure they could no longer afford.
He didn't cry. He did not complain. He just folded his attire, organized his learning materials, and requested his father to teach him the craft.
Because that's what children in financial struggle learn first—how to give up their hopes without complaint, without overwhelming parents who are currently bearing more than they can sustain.