Nine-year-old Noor stood at the entrance to his Class 3 classroom, carrying his report card with trembling hands. Highest rank. Another time. His instructor beamed with satisfaction. His fellow students applauded. For a momentary, precious moment, the young boy felt his aspirations of turning into a soldier—of helping his nation, of rendering his parents happy—were within reach.
That was three months ago.
Today, Noor is not at school. He aids his father in the wood shop, studying to sand furniture in place of studying mathematics. His uniform hangs in the wardrobe, clean but unworn. His books sit piled in the corner, their leaves no longer moving.
Noor didn't fail. His household did their absolute best. And nevertheless, it fell short.
This is the account of how being poor goes beyond limiting opportunity—it destroys it wholly, even for the most gifted children who do what's expected and more.
Even when Superior Performance Remains Adequate
Noor Rehman's dad works as a furniture maker in Laliyani, a modest village in Kasur district, Punjab, Pakistan. He remains talented. He is hardworking. He leaves home before sunrise and gets home after sunset, his hands worn from decades of forming wood into pieces, door frames, and decorations.
On profitable months, he makes 20,000 Pakistani rupees—approximately $70 USD. On challenging months, much less.
From that salary, his family of six members must manage:
- Housing costs for their Nonprofit little home
- Provisions for four children
- Utilities (electricity, water supply, cooking gas)
- Medical expenses when kids become unwell
- Transportation
- Apparel
- All other needs
The arithmetic of poverty are simple and harsh. It's never sufficient. Every coin is earmarked prior to earning it. Every decision is a selection between essentials, not once between essential items and luxury.
When Noor's tuition needed payment—together with fees for his brothers' and sisters' education—his father faced an impossible equation. The figures failed to reconcile. They never do.
Some expense had to be cut. Some family member had to forgo.
Noor, as the first-born, realized first. He remains dutiful. He's grown-up exceeding his years. He knew what his parents couldn't say aloud: his education was the expenditure they could no longer afford.
He didn't cry. He didn't complain. He just arranged his uniform, set aside his textbooks, and requested his father to show him woodworking.
Because that's what children in poor circumstances learn from the start—how to give up their hopes quietly, without troubling parents who are already shouldering more than they can sustain.