It’s a subject that shouldn’t need to be written about in detail more than once.

Not in a state like Maine, with excellent bond ratings, a state that finished its most recent fiscal years in the black, not in a state with an at-capacity “rainy day” fund. Not in a state with other obvious means of raising and redirecting revenue to the public sector.

We’re talking about our decrepit school buildings.

“5 takeaways from our reporting on Maine’s school construction backlog,” read the headline of a roundup we put out last week. We’d replace “school construction backlog” with “shortsighted, years-long neglect of schools.”

Here’s how our news reporting characterized an elementary school in Standish: “It’s made of wood but lacks sprinklers. It’s not compliant with the Americans With Disabilities Act. Its heating and cooling system leaks. The library and music room are housed in portable classrooms that are still in use years longer than they were built to last.”

The statistics are interesting: 72 schools still in use in Maine were built before 1950; more than half went up between 1950 and 1979.

Tremendous, providing they’re properly maintained, and, across the board, this has not been the case; 500 out of 600 will need to be replaced — replaced — between now and 2045, according to the preliminary report of a state commission created last year (this dedicated group was the first to officially review the state of schools since … 1998).

“The gap between necessary rebuild projects and available funding continues to grow because neither the state nor most communities have the money to address them,” according to our report.

“There’s no magic money,” was the subdued acknowledgement of one superintendent. 

There’s not, no. But there is money.

A letter to the editor printed in today’s section happens to point at one glaring means of raising additional revenue at the state level; to focus on taxing certain second homes (he did not refer to the third homes, the fourth homes; these must also be remembered). 

The “Vacationland” status of Maine is a source of both income and pride for our state; sometimes prickly pride, grudging pride, but there’s no denying its economic significance. License plates change, our almost 100-year-old designation remains the same.

Why shouldn’t it be made more economically significant again? We can’t think of a single reason not to zero in on the meatiest financial transactions, opened and closed by people interested in Maine who can breezily afford the premium, and extract as much from that spending as possible.

The same letter — covering impressive ground within our cap of 250 words — takes care not to cheerlead for runaway spending, however creatively or effectively the revenue is raised. 

“School costs are simply out of control,” opens the concluding paragraph by Jeff Gardner of Cumberland. “When K-12 enrollment is down and education outcomes have declined significantly, justifying well-above-inflation annual increases needs serious action — not just more attention.”

Mr. Gardner is far from alone in this conviction; very often when communities in Maine are asked to vote to approve spending on schools, they flatly refuse. Even in comparatively comfortable, affluent communities, sassy messages like “don’t fund failure” and “raise test scores, not taxes” have become dispiritingly acceptable.

Faced with demand of this magnitude, high costs need to be examined closely and reined in wherever they can.

“Failure,” however, where it’s in any way apparent, is unlikely to be turned around without funding. The demonized costs will climb higher still. In addition to exploring and exhausting novel fundraising routes, Maine needs to overhaul its attitude to support of schools so that it reflects their increasingly dismal daily reality. 

Until then, we are doomed to apparently seriously refer to Maine schools’ “wish lists” and drift even further from the responsibility we have to make safe and conducive settings for our children’s education our collective priority, which — again, this should not need repeating — it is.