When we think of the 90s, most of us remember cricket posters, cassette tapes, and waiting 10 minutes for the internet to connect. But here’s a thought experiment: what if our 90s teachers, the same ones who wielded chalk like ninja stars and could silence an entire classroom with a glare, had LinkedIn profiles?

Her headline? “20 years of expertise in shouting ‘Roll Number 32, Stand Up!’ | Blackboard Artist | Confidence Crusher | Parent-Teacher Meeting Specialist.”

Because honestly, they were way ahead of the “professional branding” game. They just didn’t have a platform to flaunt their skills like “Master of Public Humiliation” or “Time Management: Completing 3 Chapters in the Last 2 Days of the Syllabus.”

The “About Me” Section

Every LinkedIn profile starts with the About Me section, right? I imagine my Math Sir’s version would’ve been:

“Experienced educator with 25 years in the art of making kids cry with quadratic equations. Specializing in reducing confidence levels to zero, then reviving them with a 2-mark grace.”

And my English Ma’am? “Creative communicator, expert in long speeches about Shakespeare that have absolutely nothing to do with the exam paper.”

The beauty is: they didn’t sugarcoat. Their bios would’ve been pure honesty, equal parts pride and menace.

Endorsements: Brutal But True

LinkedIn loves endorsements. But can you imagine the stuff teachers would’ve been endorsed for?

  • “Precision chalk-throwing (99+).”

  • “Classroom voice that travels across three floors without a mic.”

  • “Expert in spotting chit-passing even with 6/6 peripheral vision.”

  • “Professional memory: can recall your roll number and all your past sins.”

I would’ve 100% endorsed my PT Sir for “Whistle-blowing without reason” and my Science teacher for “Assigning projects that ruined family weekends.”

The Job Experience Section

This part makes me laugh because teachers basically did the same job for decades. Their profiles would look like this:

Designation:Senior Knowledge Delivery Manager (aka Geography Teacher)
Tenure: Since before your elder cousin was born.
Key Responsibilities:

  • Ruining summer vacations with “holiday homework.”

  • Shattering self-esteem during Parent Teacher Meetings.

  • Balancing syllabus pressure with impromptu life lectures about “how today’s youth has no discipline.”

Staffroom = Networking Hub

On LinkedIn, people network over coffee. Teachers did the same in the staffroom with chai and samosas.

Post ka caption hota:
“Grateful to collaborate with colleagues over samosa and chai, strategizing about how to deal with Class 8B. #TeamSpirit #Networking.”

Aur comments? Passive-aggressive gold. Physics Sir: “Congrats on becoming Class Teacher of 10A.” (thinking: mere subject ka importance hi nahi samajhte.)

Recommendations: Too Honest

LinkedIn recommendations are usually fake-polished. Teachers’ ones would’ve been savage gems:

“An exceptional professional with a strict hand. Made me stand outside in the sun for 2 hours, character building at its finest.”

“Highly skilled in sarcasm. Once asked me if I was allergic to books because I hadn’t opened one all year. I would recommend it to anyone needing tough love.”

Viral 90s Teacher Posts

LinkedIn today is filled with humble brags. But 90s teachers? Their posts would’ve been bangers:

  • Today’s generation wants Walkmans and MTV soo demanding.

  •  Back in my day, hum teacher ko dekhte hi khade ho jaate the.

  • “One student failed today. But failure is just the first step to success unless it’s in my subject, then it’s the last step.”

Tell me you wouldn’t share those with a guilty smile.

The Legacy

If teachers had LinkedIn in the 90s, hum sabke feeds ekdum entertainment + trauma combo hote. Lekin ek baat pakki hai: woh log asli thought leaders the. No hashtags, no AI prompts, just pure authority, chalk dust, aur ek nazar jo pura class chup kara deti thi.

Aur honestly, isn’t that the kind of leadership even CEOs dream of today? If they had LinkedIn in the 90s, our feeds would’ve been chaos but the kind of chaos you can’t scroll past. And honestly, isn’t that the whole point of a good teacher? They leave a mark, whether it’s in your notebook, your memory, or your self-confidence levels.