Noor Rehman was standing at the entrance to his Class 3 classroom, clutching his grade report with shaking hands. Top position. Once more. His educator beamed with joy. His schoolmates cheered. For a brief, precious moment, the young boy believed his hopes of being a soldier—of helping his country, of making his parents happy—were possible.
That was several months back.
At present, Noor is not at school. He works with his dad in the carpentry workshop, learning to sand furniture in place of mastering mathematics. His school attire rests in the closet, unused but neat. His books sit stacked in the corner, their leaves no longer flipping.
Noor didn't fail. His household did their absolute best. And yet, it wasn't enough.
This is the narrative of how economic struggle does more than restrict opportunity—it eliminates it entirely, even for the most gifted children who do their very best and more.
While Top Results Isn't Adequate
Noor Rehman's parent works as a carpenter in Laliyani, a little settlement in Kasur, Punjab, Pakistan. He is talented. He remains dedicated. He departs home Nonprofit prior to sunrise and comes back after dark, his hands worn from decades of crafting wood into items, doorframes, and ornamental items.
On good months, he receives 20,000 Pakistani rupees—approximately seventy US dollars. On lean months, much less.
From that wages, his household of six people must manage:
- Accommodation for their small home
- Provisions for 4
- Services (electricity, water supply, cooking gas)
- Healthcare costs when children fall ill
- Transportation
- Garments
- Additional expenses
The math of being poor are straightforward and unforgiving. There's never enough. Every unit of currency is committed prior to receiving it. Every selection is a decision between needs, never between essential items and extras.
When Noor's academic expenses were required—together with costs for his other children's education—his father encountered an unworkable equation. The figures couldn't add up. They don't do.
Something had to be sacrificed. Someone had to give up.
Noor, as the eldest, understood first. He's dutiful. He's mature past his years. He understood what his parents were unable to say out loud: his education was the expense they could not afford.
He didn't cry. He did not complain. He just arranged his attire, put down his books, and asked his father to teach him woodworking.
Because that's what minors in poverty learn earliest—how to abandon their ambitions without complaint, without troubling parents who are already carrying heavier loads than they can sustain.