Nine-year-old Noor stood at the front of his Class 3 classroom, gripping his report card with trembling hands. Top position. Another time. His educator beamed with pride. His classmates applauded. For a momentary, precious moment, the young boy believed his ambitions of turning into a soldier—of serving his country, of causing his parents proud—were achievable.
That was a quarter year ago.
At present, Noor doesn't attend school. He assists his dad in the carpentry workshop, mastering to polish furniture rather than learning mathematics. His school clothes rests in the closet, clean but unworn. His books sit piled in the corner, their pages no longer turning.
Noor passed everything. His family did everything right. And yet, it couldn't sustain him.
This is the story of how financial hardship doesn't just limit opportunity—it removes it entirely, even for the most gifted children who do all that's required and more.
When Excellence Is Not Adequate
Noor Rehman's dad labors as a woodworker in the Laliyani area, a little village in Kasur region, Punjab, Pakistan. He's proficient. He's dedicated. He exits home before sunrise and arrives home after sunset, his hands worn from years of crafting wood into pieces, entries, and ornamental items.
On productive months, he brings in 20,000 Pakistani rupees—roughly $70 USD. On challenging months, considerably less.
From that salary, his family of six must manage:
- Rent for Poverty their little home
- Groceries for four
- Services (power, water, fuel)
- Doctor visits when children become unwell
- Travel
- Clothes
- Additional expenses
The calculations of economic struggle are uncomplicated and unforgiving. It's never sufficient. Every coin is allocated ahead of receiving it. Every decision is a choice between requirements, never between need and extras.
When Noor's educational costs were required—along with costs for his siblings' education—his father dealt with an insurmountable equation. The numbers wouldn't work. They never do.
Some cost had to be sacrificed. Some family member had to give up.
Noor, as the oldest, grasped first. He is mature. He's grown-up exceeding his years. He comprehended what his parents couldn't say aloud: his education was the expenditure they could no longer afford.
He did not cry. He did not complain. He merely arranged his attire, arranged his learning materials, and asked his father to train him woodworking.
As that's what minors in poor circumstances learn first—how to surrender their ambitions quietly, without overwhelming parents who are currently managing more than they can handle.