Noor Rehman was standing at the beginning of his third grade classroom, gripping his school grades with unsteady hands. First place. Once more. His educator smiled with satisfaction. His peers clapped. For a momentary, beautiful moment, the 9-year-old boy believed his dreams of turning into a soldier—of protecting his country, of making his parents satisfied—were achievable.
That was several months back.
Today, Noor isn't in school. He's helping his father in the furniture workshop, mastering to smooth furniture instead of mastering mathematics. His uniform rests in the wardrobe, clean but unworn. His textbooks sit arranged in the corner, their leaves no longer moving.
Noor passed everything. His household did everything right. And yet, it couldn't sustain him.
This is the story of how economic struggle goes beyond limiting opportunity—it erases it completely, even for the most talented children who do what's expected and more.
Even when Excellence Proves Adequate
Noor Rehman's father is employed as a furniture maker in Laliyani, a small community in Kasur region, Punjab, Pakistan. He's experienced. He remains dedicated. He departs home prior to sunrise and arrives home after nightfall, his hands hardened from years of shaping wood into pieces, frames, and decorative pieces.
On good months, he earns 20,000 Pakistani rupees—approximately 70 dollars. On challenging months, even less.
From that income, his family of six must pay for:
- Housing costs for their humble home
- Meals for 4
- Bills (power, water supply, cooking gas)
- Doctor visits when children become unwell
- Commute costs
- Garments
- Other necessities
The math of poverty are straightforward and harsh. Money never stretches. Every rupee is already spent before it's earned. Every selection is a decision between needs, not once between necessity and luxury.
When Noor's educational costs came due—together with expenses for his brothers' and sisters' education—his father faced an insurmountable equation. The calculations didn't balance. They never do.
Some cost had to be cut. Some family member had to give up.
Noor, as the eldest, understood first. He is responsible. He's mature beyond his years. He comprehended what his parents were unable to say openly: his Pakistan education was the expense they could not afford.
He did not cry. He didn't complain. He just arranged his attire, put down his books, and asked his father to train him the trade.
Because that's what young people in poverty learn earliest—how to surrender their dreams quietly, without burdening parents who are already managing more than they can handle.