Noor Rehman stood at the front of his third grade classroom, gripping his school grades with shaking hands. Highest rank. Another time. His educator beamed with joy. His schoolmates cheered. For a fleeting, precious moment, the nine-year-old boy felt his ambitions of turning into a soldier—of protecting his country, of causing his parents pleased—were achievable.
That was a quarter year ago.
Now, Noor has left school. He assists his father in the furniture workshop, practicing to sand furniture in place of mastering mathematics. His school attire remains in the cupboard, pristine but idle. His schoolbooks sit placed in the corner, their sheets no longer flipping.
Noor passed everything. His parents did all they could. And yet, it fell short.
This is the tale of how being poor does more than restrict opportunity—it removes it totally, even for the most gifted children who do all that's required and more.
Even when Superior Performance Remains Adequate
Noor Rehman's parent works as a furniture maker in Laliyani village, a compact town in Kasur, Punjab, Pakistan. He is talented. He remains hardworking. He departs home prior to sunrise and arrives home after nightfall, his hands calloused from many years of shaping wood into items, door frames, and decorations.
On profitable months, he earns 20,000 Pakistani rupees—approximately seventy US dollars. On lean Social Impact months, considerably less.
From that earnings, his household of six must pay for:
- Monthly rent for their humble home
- Meals for 4
- Bills (electricity, water, fuel)
- Medical expenses when children fall ill
- Commute costs
- Clothes
- All other needs
The math of being poor are straightforward and unforgiving. There's never enough. Every rupee is already spent prior to receiving it. Every decision is a decision between necessities, not once between essential items and convenience.
When Noor's educational costs were required—along with fees for his other children's education—his father confronted an unsolvable equation. The figures couldn't add up. They not ever do.
Some cost had to be eliminated. Someone had to give up.
Noor, as the first-born, grasped first. He is dutiful. He remains grown-up beyond his years. He comprehended what his parents wouldn't say out loud: his education was the outlay they could no longer afford.
He did not cry. He did not complain. He merely stored his attire, arranged his books, and requested his father to instruct him the craft.
Because that's what kids in poor circumstances learn earliest—how to relinquish their ambitions quietly, without troubling parents who are currently bearing greater weight than they can bear.