Dodgeball Part 2

This box was sitting at work looking too interesting to be ignored (click to enlarge). Upon further inspection, it contains a set of comic books. The box proudly proclaims it is educational manga about the history of Japan. Cuteness is probably the most ubiquitous thing in Japan, but manga might run a close second. It's questionable how historically accurate elementery school manga is. Reading some myself, it certainly approaches the topic with a certain amount of romanticism, but does nothing to shield the readers from the bordom and monotony that is true history. Parts of the books seem recreate the passing of time. My heart has finally returned to it's normal pace after playing dodgeball with the grade five and sixes at Tsumei Sho Gakko. It was a small group of three students against three teachers. There was a reason no small kids played which will become clear. I wanted to use a normal nerf ball but the kids wanted to use was a very hard, heavy, volleyball-like ball. I asked them why and, sure enough, they showed me written on the ball is, "Offical Japanese Dodgeball Tournament Ball". Discussion was closed as far as they were concerned about what ball to use. Two questions hit me at once: one, that such a thing exists and, secondly, why it would be composed of such hard materials. What kind of masochist wants that thing thrown at them? It certianly motivated me to get out of the way. The type of ball used dictated the game: absurbity is one way to describe it, with both teams sticking close the walls, as far as humanly possible from each other. When you see a grade six, arm raised, holding that ball, they may as well been holding a ball of flaming pitch. The game was reduced to the ball slaming into the back wall with a satisfy thwack, and also it slamming into things; pianos, soccer nets, unicycles, a pile of brooms, furnaces (sounds like a fun gym doesn't it?). I nearly had my head taken off a couple of times and dove for my life more than once. I think the kids like the rush but there is no way my conscience will let me throw it as hard as I can. They get mad at me for not trying if I obviously miss or lob it gently, so it required a certain amount of acting on my part make them think they were being hunted while also aiming carefully so as to leave a safe distance between the kids and the ball. When things were reversed, exiciting is not how I would discribed it. I got hit squarely in the back by a mistake on my part when I zigged when I should have zagged. Ouch. After the bell rang, my chest was hurting from my pounding heart having literately just dodged a life or death situation.