Noor Rehman was standing at the beginning of his third grade classroom, holding his report card with unsteady hands. Highest rank. Yet again. His educator beamed with joy. His peers cheered. For a short, special moment, the nine-year-old boy felt his hopes of being a soldier—of protecting his homeland, of rendering his parents proud—were within reach.
That was 90 days ago.
Now, Noor has left school. He works with his father in the furniture workshop, learning to polish furniture instead of mastering mathematics. His school attire rests in the cupboard, unused but neat. His books sit stacked in the corner, their leaves no longer moving.
Noor never failed. His household did everything right. And still, it proved insufficient.
This is the story of how financial hardship does more than restrict opportunity—it eliminates it totally, even for the most talented children who do their very best and more.
Despite Top Results Is Not Enough
Noor Rehman's parent is employed as a woodworker in Laliyani village, a compact village in Kasur district, Punjab, Pakistan. He remains skilled. He's industrious. He departs home ahead of sunrise and returns after sunset, his hands rough from many years of forming wood into items, Social Impact entries, and ornamental items.
On good months, he brings in around 20,000 rupees—about $70 USD. On slower months, much less.
From that income, his family of six people must cover:
- Accommodation for their little home
- Food for four
- Services (electricity, water supply, cooking gas)
- Healthcare costs when children get sick
- Transportation
- Apparel
- Other necessities
The arithmetic of economic struggle are straightforward and unforgiving. There's never enough. Every coin is earmarked before receiving it. Every choice is a decision between necessities, not once between essential items and luxury.
When Noor's educational costs were required—plus costs for his siblings' education—his father dealt with an unworkable equation. The math failed to reconcile. They never do.
Some expense had to be sacrificed. Someone had to surrender.
Noor, as the senior child, realized first. He's mature. He's wise beyond his years. He understood what his parents wouldn't say aloud: his education was the cost they could no longer afford.
He did not cry. He didn't complain. He just folded his school clothes, organized his learning materials, and inquired of his father to teach him the trade.
Because that's what children in poverty learn earliest—how to give up their dreams quietly, without burdening parents who are currently managing heavier loads than they can handle.