Before Christmas, our MD Ellen Widdup spent a morning teaching LinkedIn to a room full of Year 13 students. No suits and ties. No corporate buzzwords. No one announcing they were “delighted to share”. Here, she explains why it was one of the most refreshing LinkedIn conversations she has had in years.
Spend enough time on LinkedIn and you’d be forgiven for thinking it’s a place where everyone is permanently thrilled, endlessly grateful and one post away from a personal brand breakthrough.
So walking into a room of Year 13 students at Kesgrave High School in Suffolk and talking LinkedIn – without a single buzzword, humblebrag or forced opinion in sight – was unexpectedly grounding.
What followed was a reminder that the platform works best when it’s treated as a practical tool rather than a performance, and that the people with the least pressure to sound impressive often use it in the most effective way.
As someone who works closely with employers, recruiters and business leaders, I see every day how opportunities are spotted, conversations start and careers quietly take shape online.
LinkedIn is often the first place people are checked, remembered or noticed – yet it’s rarely explained properly to young people before they’re expected to use it.
Of course, they know social media. They’re fluent in Instagram, highly skilled on TikTok and communicate almost exclusively via Snapchat streaks.
But LinkedIn is a different beast entirely – and one that can quietly open doors if you understand it.
The session wasn’t about turning teenagers into corporate clones. It was about giving them a head start, so they can build visibility, confidence and direction long before it becomes urgent.
But it became more than that for me – with a realisation that adults can learn a lot from how teens approach the platform.
The first thing almost every student said was some version of: “I don’t really have anything to put on there yet.”
Which was interesting, because that’s exactly the point.
On LinkedIn you don’t need to sound finished. Teens can’t inflate job titles or imply they’re industry leaders at 17. They’re comfortable saying, “I’m learning”, “I’m interested in”, “I’m figuring it out” and truthfully, isn’t that what we are all doing?
Adults often feel LinkedIn requires a sort of professional cosplay. We try to sound decisive, successful and deeply aligned with something called “strategic priorities”.
The result is a lot of profiles that read like they’re bracing for cross-examination.
What teenagers instinctively got is that effort communicates value.
Setting up a profile early. Writing something thoughtful. Showing up consistently, even if they don’t yet have a glittering career behind them.
They don’t assume LinkedIn is about being impressive. They understand it’s about being visible.
Adults, meanwhile, tend to wait until they feel “ready”. Which usually means waiting until they’ve got a new job, a new title, a new reason to appear.
By which point, the moment has passed and LinkedIn has quietly moved on without them.
Reading the teenagers’ “About” sections was genuinely heartening.
They wrote about their hobbies, interests, ambitions and achievements without sugar-coating, over-inflating or hiding behind complicated vernacular.
It was clear, human and immediately understandable – a reminder that you don’t need polish or performance to communicate potential.
Adults, on the other hand, have mastered the art of saying very little in a great many words. We talk about leveraging, enabling, aligning and unlocking – usually in the same sentence.
Jargon is often a defence mechanism. A way of sounding credible without being specific.
Teenagers haven’t learned that yet. And so their LinkedIn profiles are better for it.
Here’s the uncomfortable truth: LinkedIn doesn’t actually reward perfection.
It rewards clarity. Consistency. Curiosity.
The irony is that teenagers – the people who think they have the least to offer – often use the platform in the most effective way. They’re open about where they’re heading, not obsessed with proving where they’ve been.
Adults forget they’re allowed to still be becoming something.
Teaching LinkedIn to teenagers has reminded me that you don’t need to sound impressive. You need to sound real. You don’t need a flawless career narrative. You need a direction.
And you definitely don’t need to announce you’re “thrilled to share” unless you genuinely are.
LinkedIn works best when it feels human. Teenagers seem to know that instinctively.
The rest of us just need to remember it.
If you are a school interested in a workshop for your Sixth Form students, drop us a line. If you are an adult struggling with the platform, we can help you too!
Discover how our creative solutions can elevate your brand and achieve your marketing goals.
