School starts this week. So do regular-season scholastic sports.

That means you’ll be able to identify one poor soul in the district by the frazzled face.

If you aren’t close enough to identify that, look for the man running to and fro as if he’s in the middle of a 12-hour fire drill. Or the woman who appears to be rehearsing for a bonus game on “The Price Is Right.”

It’s your athletic director, co-curricular administrator or whatever euphemism your RSU applies to the most thankless, overextended person on its payroll.

Did I say thankless? I meant endangered.

We live in desperate times. Education costs more every year. People whose children already have gone through the system don’t want to pay a nickel more per day in taxes to help the next generation.

Therefore, the carving knife comes out of the drawer at almost every school committee meeting. And what’s the trendy, symbolic, eminently gutless thing to do?

Suggest cutting sports. It’s a stunt they pulled in Auburn earlier this year before miraculously finding the cash. If such grandstanding hasn’t come to a crowded school library or town hall near you, have faith. It soon will.

Inevitably the discussion turns to the athletic director, especially if he hauls in an administrator’s salary with no other apparent duties in his job description.

Gadzooks! Do we really need to pay $60,000 or more to a guy who supervises fun and games?

Short answer: Yes, and it’s a bargain at that.

The ignorant implication is that the AD is a glorified secretary who plays Angry Birds all day, then sprays a few chalk lines and fetches ankle wrap.

In reality, of course, he’s scheduling and rescheduling, securing officials, supervising coaches, building productive relationships and trust with our children, lining and mowing fields when necessary, making sure athletic contracts are understood and followed, ensuring that injured athletes don’t risk further damage, keeping spectators safe, enforcing academic standards, fielding phone calls from frustrated parents, and more, all while juggling his own family and need for recreation.

Of course, like everyone else in our economy, athletic directors consistently are asked to do more with less.

We have 19 public high schools in our coverage area. I took a quick, informal inventory of that roster.

Only eight of them have “full-time” athletic directors. Example: Jeff Ramich, who recently took over AD duties at Leavitt. He’s one of the best. Whatever you fine folks in Greene, Leeds and Turner are paying Ramich for his services, you’re basically stealing.

Ramich is an exception among those eight, however, in that his obligations don’t extend to the middle school. He also isn’t currently charged with any co-curricular responsibilities.

Ah, yes, “co-curricular.” For the uninitiated, that‘s a nice way of saying, “You don’t have enough to worry about with 18 varsity sports teams. We’re going to give you a side dish of band, chorus, math team and chess club to oversee, just for giggles.”

At least four more local ADs also are listed as assistant principals. Example: Zach Longyear, the new guy at Lisbon. Translation: No matter how committed you are to sports, there’s a superintendent and school committee above you that considers it your second priority, at best.

Lisbon is notable because the history of the job demonstrates the disturbing pattern. When Stan Doughty and Jeff Benson served as the Greyhounds’ AD in yesteryear, they weren’t labeled mere assistants; they had assistants of their own.

Five of our local ADs are part-time. They are coaches, teachers, even secretaries, who have taken on the added duties for a stipend. I’m not going to give any examples, because I’m sure they feel badly enough about that arrangement without the public ridicule.

The other two posts currently are vacant.

Hmmm, wonder why?

The situation isn’t likely to improve this year, or next, or a decade from now.

Our economy is in the tank until the two prevailing parties decide that cooperating to fix it is more important than winning.

And when numbers don’t balance, hand-wringing, elitist do-gooders immediately target sports, wondering aloud why our society is so consumed with it.

Um, because it benefits the participants physically, emotionally and intellectually for life, that’s why. Probably more so than the ability to juggle a quadratic equation or recite the reasons for the Spanish-American War, truth be told.

So here’s your homework: When you see that overextended guy pacing like the proverbial headless poultry at a football or soccer game, interrupt his day long enough to say thank you.

Better yet, when the suits and ties come out of the woodwork to complicate or threaten his job, fight for him.

Kalle Oakes is a staff columnist. His email is [email protected].