Nine-year-old Noor stood at the beginning of his third grade classroom, carrying his report card with trembling hands. First place. Another time. His instructor grinned with satisfaction. His fellow students applauded. For a momentary, beautiful moment, the young boy thought his ambitions of being a soldier—of protecting his homeland, of rendering his parents satisfied—were achievable.
That was a quarter year ago.
At present, Noor doesn't attend school. He's helping his dad in the furniture workshop, practicing to smooth furniture rather than studying mathematics. His uniform hangs in the cupboard, pristine but idle. His books sit piled in the corner, their pages no longer flipping.
Noor never failed. His household did all they could. And yet, it fell short.
This is the account of how financial hardship doesn't just limit opportunity—it removes it completely, even for the most gifted children who do their very best and more.
While Excellence Isn't Enough
Noor Rehman's father toils as a carpenter in Laliyani, a modest village in Kasur, Punjab, Pakistan. He remains skilled. He remains hardworking. He leaves home ahead of sunrise and gets home after nightfall, his hands hardened from years of shaping wood into items, frames, and decorations.
On successful months, he brings in around 20,000 rupees—roughly $70 USD. On difficult months, less.
From that income, his household of 6 must cover:
- Accommodation for their little home
- Provisions for four children
- Utilities (power, water, fuel)
- Medicine when children get sick
- Transportation
- Apparel
- All other needs
The calculations of financial hardship are uncomplicated and brutal. It's never sufficient. read more Every coin is earmarked before earning it. Every choice is a decision between needs, never between essential items and extras.
When Noor's tuition came due—in addition to costs for his siblings' education—his father encountered an impossible equation. The calculations didn't balance. They don't do.
Some expense had to be cut. One child had to sacrifice.
Noor, as the oldest, grasped first. He remains responsible. He is grown-up exceeding his years. He realized what his parents were unable to say explicitly: his education was the expenditure they could not afford.
He didn't cry. He did not complain. He just arranged his attire, set aside his learning materials, and requested his father to instruct him woodworking.
Because that's what young people in hardship learn earliest—how to give up their hopes without complaint, without troubling parents who are presently carrying greater weight than they can sustain.