I have zero sympathy for the teacher shortage. I’m actually glad to see it. Maybe it will make people wake up and realize just how important, over-worked, and underpaid teachers are.

It’s about time teachers got paid a decent professional salary and treated like the professionals we are. I have two master’s degrees, and after years of teaching I still made less than I could make working at L.L. Bean. Teach in a rich district in southern Maine, and your salary will be higher, but you’re still treated poorly. Although I loved the kids, and loved teaching, I quit.

Here are just some of the “behind the scenes” reasons.

I spent two unpaid weeks in August sweltering in my kindergarten classroom to get everything ready for the kids. That’s two weeks of vacation I gave up for no pay — not to mention that I had to purchase, out of my own pocket, much of what I needed to set up. When I told that to my principal, he stated matter-of-factly that elementary teachers “always” spend at least 10% of their salary on materials.

After those two weeks we had two useless days of district meetings that could have been handled with an email. We could have used that time for much needed prep or meeting with parents, but the district made it clear that it didn’t trust us to use the time “productively.” When we arrived at the last meeting, exhausted from it all, the superintendent made a big show of thanking the custodians (who were paid) for setting up the schools so nicely. No mention of teachers. Our principal then expected us to kick in for a pizza party for the custodians in our building.

Next I went to pick up the meager supplies I was allotted for my classroom. The glue bottles were hard as rocks. The scissors were rusty and bent. There were no washable, kid-safe markers. The paper we needed would arrive in late September, along with pencils. Back to Staples, and spending more of my own money. To add insult to injury, if I wanted so much as a box of paper clips, I had to fill out a requisition slip and wait until someone had time to fill the request. I once waited two weeks for a roll of tape. The crowning glory? We were told to put number lines up around the ceiling of our classrooms. The ceilings are quite high. No ladders, no tape, no help, just a mandate.

Two weeks into the school year, our principal informed us that we are required to take an after-school course given in a neighboring school district. We were expected to pay the fee out of our own money, not to mention driving to another school district, with no travel compensation. My day started at 6 a.m., the kids left by 3 p.m., and that district’s administrators wouldn’t allow us to bring in as much as a cup of coffee during the workshop, which lasted until 6 p.m. Fun times.

Then there were the district faculty meetings. Being rural Maine, schools are spread far apart. We were expected to drive to various schools, as much as 30 minutes away, for these meetings, once again without compensation for travel. These meetings could have been held virtually, but the administration refused. One teacher was so tired she had a serious car accident on the way to one of the meetings.

Then there’s the expectation of dealing with children who are not toilet trained, children who are sent to school quite ill because their parents have to work, and a whole host of behavior problems that needed the help of a social worker or therapist that we didn’t have. I bought food and clothing for children who desperately need it. For an entire school year I packed sandwiches, fruit, and cookies into one child’s backpack every day, and more food for the weekends, when I knew she wouldn’t have enough to eat otherwise. Not food from the cafeteria; food purchased with my salary.

I also bought books for children who couldn’t afford them. Every teacher does this; I was certainly not alone. It’s what we do for kids because we love them. That love for children is constantly exploited with every demand on our time made by state mandates and administrators.

Our school day is supposed to end by 3, but then there are endless faculty meetings, mounds of paperwork, grade level meetings, report cards, parent letters to write, and more. Prep time is inevitably eaten up with meetings. I never got home before 5 p.m., and always had hours more work to do at home. When you are in an office, or on most jobs, you can take a breather, go to the restroom, get a drink of water. Teachers can’t. We are on from the minute the kids step in the room until every kid has left.

Teachers are not paid for the summer, or holiday weeks. We are contracted for a specific number of set days. Any time we put in beyond that is out of our love for the kids. In turn we receive laughable salaries, are constantly criticized by the media, disrespected by our own administrators, and then get to retire on pensions that border on the poverty line.

And you all wonder why no one is going into the education field?

Marie Block is a resident of Fairfield.

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