Nine-year-old Noor stood at the front of his Class 3 classroom, carrying his academic report with nervous hands. Number one. Again. His instructor beamed with happiness. His classmates clapped. For a brief, special moment, the nine-year-old boy thought his hopes of becoming a soldier—of serving his homeland, of making his parents proud—were possible.
That was three months ago.
At present, Noor doesn't attend school. He's helping his dad in the woodworking shop, practicing to sand furniture instead of mastering mathematics. His school clothes rests in the closet, clean but unworn. His textbooks sit piled in the corner, their leaves no longer turning.
Noor didn't fail. His household did all they could. And yet, it wasn't enough.
This is the account of how economic struggle doesn't just limit opportunity—it removes it completely, even for the brightest children who do what's expected and more.
While Top Results Remains Enough
Noor Rehman's dad works as a woodworker in the Laliyani area, a compact village in Kasur region, Punjab, Pakistan. He is talented. He's hardworking. He leaves home ahead of sunrise and returns after dusk, his hands worn from decades of creating wood Pakistan into furniture, entries, and embellishments.
On profitable months, he makes around 20,000 rupees—roughly 70 dollars. On slower months, considerably less.
From that wages, his household of six people must manage:
- Monthly rent for their modest home
- Provisions for four
- Utilities (power, water, gas)
- Healthcare costs when kids become unwell
- Transportation
- Clothes
- Additional expenses
The calculations of financial hardship are basic and harsh. There's never enough. Every unit of currency is committed before earning it. Every selection is a choice between requirements, not once between need and comfort.
When Noor's tuition were required—in addition to expenses for his siblings' education—his father dealt with an impossible equation. The figures failed to reconcile. They never do.
Something had to give. Some family member had to give up.
Noor, as the oldest, understood first. He's mature. He is grown-up beyond his years. He understood what his parents couldn't say aloud: his education was the cost they could no longer afford.
He didn't cry. He did not complain. He just arranged his attire, set aside his books, and requested his father to show him the craft.
Since that's what children in hardship learn from the start—how to relinquish their aspirations quietly, without weighing down parents who are currently bearing heavier loads than they can sustain.