Nine-year-old Noor stood at the beginning of his Class 3 classroom, holding his school grades with shaking hands. Top position. Again. His educator smiled with joy. His Education schoolmates cheered. For a momentary, beautiful moment, the 9-year-old boy believed his ambitions of becoming a soldier—of protecting his country, of rendering his parents satisfied—were achievable.
That was 90 days ago.
Today, Noor isn't in school. He's helping his dad in the carpentry workshop, mastering to polish furniture instead of mastering mathematics. His school clothes sits in the closet, clean but unworn. His learning materials sit placed in the corner, their leaves no longer flipping.
Noor didn't fail. His parents did their absolute best. And still, it couldn't sustain him.
This is the account of how poverty goes beyond limiting opportunity—it removes it totally, even for the brightest children who do everything asked of them and more.
Despite Superior Performance Isn't Adequate
Noor Rehman's parent labors as a furniture maker in Laliyani village, a little settlement in Kasur district, Punjab, Pakistan. He's talented. He remains hardworking. He leaves home prior to sunrise and comes back after sunset, his hands calloused from years of forming wood into pieces, doorframes, and decorations.
On productive months, he makes 20,000 Pakistani rupees—about 70 dollars. On challenging months, even less.
From that salary, his household of six people must manage:
- Accommodation for their modest home
- Groceries for four
- Services (electricity, water supply, gas)
- Medical expenses when kids become unwell
- Commute costs
- Garments
- All other needs
The math of financial hardship are basic and harsh. There's always a shortage. Every unit of currency is allocated prior to it's earned. Every choice is a choice between essentials, not once between necessity and convenience.
When Noor's tuition came due—plus expenses for his other children's education—his father encountered an impossible equation. The math failed to reconcile. They never do.
Some expense had to be cut. Someone had to surrender.
Noor, as the eldest, grasped first. He is responsible. He remains wise past his years. He realized what his parents couldn't say openly: his education was the expense they could not any longer afford.
He didn't cry. He did not complain. He merely folded his school clothes, arranged his books, and asked his father to train him carpentry.
As that's what minors in hardship learn earliest—how to abandon their hopes silently, without weighing down parents who are presently carrying heavier loads than they can sustain.