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Once we live through this long national nightmare that is the Yankees and Dodgers playing in the World Series, we will enter the crazy season of sports.

That is when we will see baseball players command salaries that are almost beyond our comprehension.

Last year, the Dodgers signed Shohei Ohtani to a 10-year, $700 million contract. By mid-December, we will likely see Juan Soto sign a contract that is close to that amount. He might even surpass the contract the Dodgers gave Ohtani, and he’ll probably go to the Dodgers.

Then, I will probably bite and get involved in a Facebook argument about athletes being paid too much. The fact is, they are not paid too much.

If anything, Ohtani is underpaid for the amount of money he has made for the Dodgers and Major League Baseball.

The reason athletes are paid so much is they are worth it. They are worth it just like the big-time actors are worth the insane amount of money they get paid to make movies. They are worth it because we pay the inflated price to watch them on the silver screen.

The same goes for athletes. People pay the high prices for tickets and they drink the $15 beers at ballparks. They also pay to watch the games on television, and they buy the officially-licensed apparel.

That is why I find it puzzling that people get mad at the athletes with the big contracts, but have no problem with the rich team owners who gouge us at every turn.

Still, there is no denying that it is a shame that our societal values are so out of whack that we pay a baseball player $700 million. You would think that kind of money would instead go to the doctors, scientists and educators.

Really, if we valued our teachers more, then maybe the United States wouldn’t be ranked 27^th in the world in education and No. 1 in confidence.

Ok, so not every teacher deserves to be paid Shohei Ohtani money. That would seem crazy. Nobody deserves that kind of cash, right?

Well, actually, there is one person who I feel should have been paid like that. Here name was Betty Lester, and she was my third-grade teacher.

Well, she was my second third-grade teacher, and everything I have ever accomplished is because of her. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of how Mrs. Lester changed my life.

Mrs. Lester, who passed away at 86 last month, was one of the two third-grade teachers at Kennedy Elementary School. I went to the Blaine School for kindergarten through my first year in third-grade, and I tried to stay home sick four out of five days each week from first through third grade.

Part of the problem was that I was a briefly a perfectionist. I thought I had to get 100 percent on every assignment and every test. Then, one day in first grade, I snapped.

I couldn’t come up with the answer to a math problem on a test. I asked my buddy Brian, who was sitting to my right, if he knew the answer. Brian responded as he should have. He turned his body to shield his paper so I couldn’t see.

Tears started to fill my eyes before I thought, “The heck with it. The answer is seven.” Then I just made up a number for the rest of the test and turned it in.

For the next two and a half years, I was always the first one done with time tests in math. I would just randomly write numbers down at the bottom of each problem and then put my head down on the desk.

I did the same for science, English and social studies. The only subject I worked hard at was gym class.

It was my educational phase where I treated school like Peter treated work on the classic movie “Office Space.” I didn’t get the answers right, and I could not possibly care less.

My mom cared, and I think the teachers cared. But I sure as heck didn’t give a rip if I got an A or an F on a test. I just served my time until the bell rang each day to set me free.

Then I met Mrs. Lester.

The Blaine closed down after my first time around third grade in 1983. I went to third grade again at the Kennedy during the 1983-84 school year.

All summer long, I dreaded going to school — even more than usual. I was going to a new school, and at some point, my friends were going to find out that I was held back.

Or, as Bill Grant so eloquently put it, “Foley funked. Foley flunked. Ha ha, Foley flunked.”

On the first bus ride to Kennedy, I sat next to my best friend Chris. He talked about how he hoped we’d be in the same class and how we were going to have a great fourth grade together.

I just sat there in silence. I didn’t know how to tell him I was still a third grader. Somehow, I avoided the topic during the 300 or so times we played baseball together that summer.

He couldn’t believe it when we had to line up by grade when the morning bell went off. While he stood in the fourth-grade line, I went to the third-grade line.

As much as I agonized over that moment, though, it turned out to be one of the best things that happened to me. I got a new lease on school thanks to Mrs. Lester.

In Mrs. Lester’s class, school was fun. I looked forward to Monday mornings the most because that is when we all had to tell Mrs. Lester about our weekend. She would have us in stitches with her silly responses.

As it turns out, liking school makes it easier to learn.

I can’t say that Mrs. Lester was better at teaching reading, writing and arithmetic than my first third-grade teacher. She just created an atmosphere where I was happier. Much happier. She made me feel special.

That led to a better fourth-grade experience, which led to a better year in fifth grade.

I had a handful of teachers who really went above and beyond to help lead me to where I am today. Dan Piazzola was the strict sixth-grade teacher who prepared us for junior high. Diane Johnson, who is still affectionately known as “Ms. O,” was an outstanding math teacher who made each day of junior high school bearable.

In high school, I had teachers like Julie Seedhouse, Char Davis and Georgine Cachola to really guided me toward my career path. At Montana Tech, Tom Lester (Mrs. Lester’s husband) left his mark as my sociology professor, even though he tried to talk me out of a career in journalism.

“What do you have against eating?” he once asked me.

At the University of Montana, I was lucky enough to have Mike Laslovich, the best political science teacher ever and an Anaconda guy to boot. I also had journalism mentors like Sharon Barrett, who brought out the best in my writing, along with Dennis Swibold and Frank Allen, the dean.

If you add up all the money those teachers and professors made over their entire careers, it wouldn’t pay for one year of Shohei Ohtani to hit a baseball. It wouldn’t even get you a decent utility infielder.

Yet, each one of those teachers — and many more — made more of an impact on my life than any baseball, football or basketball player ever could.

It really is too bad that the great teachers in our lives are just not paid like the superstars that they are.

If they were, Mrs. Lester would have been the world’s first trillionaire.

 — Bill Foley, who will always be thankful he got to the chance to tell Mrs. Lester how much she meant to him before she passed away, can be reached at foles74@gmail.com. Follow him at twitter.com/Foles74. Listen to him on the ButteCast on Apple Podcasts, Spotify or wherever you find your favorite podcasts.