Noor Rehman was standing at the beginning of his third grade classroom, holding his grade report with nervous hands. First place. Yet again. His teacher smiled with happiness. His classmates clapped. For a fleeting, special moment, the young boy thought his hopes of being a soldier—of serving his homeland, of rendering his parents pleased—were attainable.
That was 90 days ago.
Now, Noor doesn't attend school. He works with his father in the woodworking shop, studying to smooth furniture instead of studying Social Impact mathematics. His school clothes remains in the cupboard, pristine but idle. His textbooks sit piled in the corner, their sheets no longer turning.
Noor passed everything. His family did their absolute best. And nevertheless, it fell short.
This is the narrative of how economic struggle doesn't just limit opportunity—it erases it entirely, even for the smartest children who do what's expected and more.
When Excellence Isn't Sufficient
Noor Rehman's father is employed as a craftsman in Laliyani, a small town in Kasur district, Punjab, Pakistan. He's experienced. He is dedicated. He exits home ahead of sunrise and returns after dark, his hands hardened from years of forming wood into products, door frames, and decorations.
On good months, he makes around 20,000 rupees—around 70 dollars. On slower months, less.
From that salary, his family of six members must pay for:
- Monthly rent for their little home
- Provisions for four
- Utilities (electricity, water, fuel)
- Medical expenses when kids get sick
- Transportation
- Clothing
- Other necessities
The arithmetic of economic struggle are simple and unforgiving. There's never enough. Every rupee is already spent before it's earned. Every choice is a decision between necessities, never between necessity and luxury.
When Noor's tuition came due—plus fees for his other children's education—his father encountered an unworkable equation. The calculations failed to reconcile. They not ever do.
Something had to be cut. Some family member had to forgo.
Noor, as the oldest, understood first. He remains responsible. He is wise beyond his years. He comprehended what his parents couldn't say openly: his education was the expenditure they could not afford.
He did not cry. He didn't complain. He only put away his uniform, set aside his textbooks, and inquired of his father to train him carpentry.
As that's what children in hardship learn first—how to surrender their aspirations quietly, without overwhelming parents who are presently shouldering heavier loads than they can bear.