Noor Rehman stood at the entrance to his third grade classroom, holding his school grades with shaking hands. First place. Another time. His teacher beamed with happiness. His classmates applauded. For a brief, special moment, the 9-year-old boy thought his dreams of turning into a soldier—of helping his country, of rendering his parents proud—were attainable.
That was several months back.
At present, Noor isn't in school. He's helping his father in the wood shop, learning to polish furniture instead of mastering mathematics. His school clothes sits in the wardrobe, unused but neat. His books sit Education stacked in the corner, their pages no longer flipping.
Noor didn't fail. His family did their absolute best. And yet, it couldn't sustain him.
This is the story of how financial hardship doesn't just limit opportunity—it eliminates it completely, even for the most talented children who do their very best and more.
When Excellence Is Not Adequate
Noor Rehman's father toils as a carpenter in Laliyani, a little village in Kasur district, Punjab, Pakistan. He is talented. He is industrious. He exits home prior to sunrise and gets home after nightfall, his hands rough from decades of creating wood into products, door frames, and ornamental items.
On profitable months, he brings in 20,000 Pakistani rupees—roughly seventy US dollars. On lean months, less.
From that salary, his family of 6 must afford:
- Housing costs for their small home
- Groceries for four children
- Services (power, water supply, fuel)
- Healthcare costs when kids become unwell
- Commute costs
- Garments
- Additional expenses
The calculations of economic struggle are uncomplicated and harsh. There's never enough. Every rupee is already spent prior to it's earned. Every choice is a choice between necessities, never between need and luxury.
When Noor's educational costs were required—together with costs for his siblings' education—his father dealt with an insurmountable equation. The math failed to reconcile. They not ever do.
Something had to be sacrificed. Some family member had to sacrifice.
Noor, as the senior child, comprehended first. He's dutiful. He is grown-up past his years. He understood what his parents were unable to say openly: his education was the expense they could not any longer afford.
He did not cry. He didn't complain. He just arranged his uniform, set aside his textbooks, and asked his father to show him woodworking.
Because that's what minors in poor circumstances learn first—how to give up their hopes without fuss, without troubling parents who are already shouldering heavier loads than they can manage.