Permanent Record

I was lied to. We were all lied to. Growing up, we were told that our permanent record would hound us for all the days of our lives. Our teachers and principals struck fear in our little adolescent minds by saying over and over again, “This is going on your permanent record. It will follow you the rest of your life, and every time you try to get a job, apply for a loan, or buy a candy bar, your permanent record will raise its ugly head. “I’m sorry, son, but I just checked your permanent record, and I can’t sell you that Butterfinger.” But where is our permanent record now? And why isn’t it thrown in our faces on a daily basis like they promised? I bought a car the other day. The salesperson asked for my name, my Social Security number, my bank account number, if I have any illegitimate children, do I have night sweats, or any metal plates in my head. But there was no mention of my permanent record. When I was in elementary school, I did something that was certainly worthy of being added to my permanent record. At recess, I found one of those big blue skinks running around the playground, and because I was a mischievous young lad, I grabbed it and put it in my pocket. I went back to class and just as we were about to get into our social studies lesson about the president with that tall hat, I pulled that big skink out of my pocket and let it go. It was a social experiment to see how people would react. Well, let me tell you, not very well. The girls immediately jumped up on top of their desks and let out a communal scream that shattered windows 30 miles away. Of course, the boys didn’t scream. Instead, they jumped out of their seats, and the race was on to see who could catch that skink. After the animal was captured and tossed out of the window, I was immediately sent to the principal’s office. He stared at me across his desk and very solemnly said, “This is going on your permanent record.” I left the office cursing that skink. My life was ruined. So, why has nobody ever brought up the infamous Skink Scare of ‘73? Not even once! In the months that followed, I wondered if I would ever be able to achieve my goal of growing up to be a fireman/rock star/astronaut with such a sullied permanent record? I was threatened with my permanent record a few more times during my school years. I knew that when I got to college, I would be ruined. But oddly, when I met with the admissions counselor at college, she never mentioned my permanent record. Not once. “Do you have any money?” was basically her only question. So, why has nobody ever mentioned my permanent record? Is it locked away in a vault somewhere just waiting to be released as soon as I announce that I’m running for president? Or was it shredded years ago and taken to the landfill? Was the threat of our permanent record just that? Just a threat? When the principal said he was writing my transgressions down in my permanent record, was he just doodling on a piece of paper? And if there is such a thing, what is actually in it? Would there be a note about that time I wiped a booger on the door of the girls’ bathroom? Or when I made a deal with Carla Daniels in 2nd grade to do my math homework in exchange for playing ‘house’ with her after school? Is there a place where all of our permanent records are stored? Some underground fault built under a mountain in Colorado guarded by an army of retired principals, standing at the entrance holding paddles? Are they just waiting for the perfect moment to release that section of my permanent record describing how I stuffed my green beans into my milk carton while my teacher wasn’t looking? I don’t know, but do I really want to chance it? Do I want to call my 7th-grade chemistry teacher a dirty skobblelotcher just to have my permanent records released so the whole world can see that I put gum in Linda Dukes’ hair in 3rd grade? And how long have they been keeping a permanent record on us? Did it end in twelfth grade, or is there someone from Shiver School still following me around, watching for any infractions worthy of being noted in my permanent record? I don’t know about you, but I am not willing to chance it. What if they were to reveal that I lied to my class about my dad being in the mafia? Or that I once picked a scab off my arm and ate it? Heck no. Those things are private. Well. they were. Oops.
https://timesenterprise.com/2025/11/19/permanent-record/