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I'm currently reading Half-Broke Horses by Jeannette Walls. It's about her grandmother, Lily Casey Smith, who was a teacher in the early 20th century in the wild Arizona frontier. During World War II, however, the family had to move to the big city and she had to take a teaching job in a large city high school for the first time:

There were more rules for teachers than for students, and those bureaucrats were awfully persnickety about you following those rules. Once when I opened my purse in the teachers' lounge, one of the other teachers saw my little pistol and just about had a fit.

"That's a gun!" she gasped.

"Barely," I said. "It's only a twenty-two."

I like this woman's way of thinking. hehe