Noor Rehman was standing at the beginning of his Pakistan Class 3 classroom, holding his school grades with shaking hands. Highest rank. Again. His educator smiled with satisfaction. His peers clapped. For a brief, beautiful moment, the young boy thought his hopes of becoming a soldier—of helping his country, of causing his parents proud—were achievable.
That was three months ago.
Currently, Noor isn't in school. He assists his father in the carpentry workshop, studying to sand furniture rather than mastering mathematics. His uniform rests in the wardrobe, pristine but idle. His books sit piled in the corner, their leaves no longer flipping.
Noor never failed. His parents did everything right. And even so, it fell short.
This is the narrative of how being poor does more than restrict opportunity—it eliminates it wholly, even for the smartest children who do all that's required and more.
Despite Excellence Is Not Enough
Noor Rehman's father works as a furniture maker in Laliyani village, a little community in Kasur district, Punjab, Pakistan. He's experienced. He's dedicated. He exits home ahead of sunrise and comes back after nightfall, his hands rough from years of forming wood into items, entries, and decorative pieces.
On successful months, he makes 20,000 rupees—approximately seventy US dollars. On challenging months, less.
From that salary, his household of six people must manage:
- Monthly rent for their humble home
- Meals for four
- Utilities (electric, water supply, gas)
- Medicine when kids get sick
- Travel
- Garments
- Everything else
The math of being poor are straightforward and brutal. It's never sufficient. Every coin is earmarked prior to receiving it. Every decision is a decision between needs, not ever between need and luxury.
When Noor's tuition came due—plus expenses for his brothers' and sisters' education—his father confronted an insurmountable equation. The math didn't balance. They not ever do.
Something had to be eliminated. Someone had to surrender.
Noor, as the senior child, understood first. He is conscientious. He's wise past his years. He understood what his parents could not say out loud: his education was the expense they could not afford.
He did not cry. He did not complain. He merely folded his attire, put down his learning materials, and inquired of his father to train him woodworking.
Since that's what minors in poverty learn initially—how to give up their aspirations quietly, without weighing down parents who are already managing greater weight than they can handle.