Today, there is a particular kind of teacher that parents and students celebrate. She explains quadratic equations through trending audio. He goes live on Instagram at eleven at night to give a “real talk” on board exams. They reply to student DMs (direct messages), post staffroom videos, and caption it all with something like “school doesn’t have to be boring.” The intent is warm but the consequences are serious. In 2026, being a “cool teacher” increasingly means being a content creator. That shift from educator to influencer is quietly dismantling a crucial structure in a child’s life: the boundary between adult and child.The legal architecture around teacher-student relationships is not accidental. The Protection of Children from Sexual Offences (POCSO) Act, 2012, imposes specific statutory duties on teachers; loco parentis imposes a judicially recognised duty of care; the Juvenile Justice Act, 2015, imposes general duties on persons in charge of a child, which can extend to teachers in some circumstances, but does not target them as a distinct category. That duty does not come with a digital off-switch. When a teacher follows a 15-year-old on Instagram, sends memes at midnight, or comments on a student’s personal reel, the adult-child boundary carefully maintained in physical spaces dissolves in digital ones.Grooming rarely begins with explicit harm — it exploits access, trust, and eroding distance. A teacher sliding into a student’s DM with no ill intent can still create such conditions, which is why the boundary matters regardless of motives. Such informal chats do not stay private forever; their screenshots can easily end up as evidence in a POCSO complaint.Teaching as performanceThere is also a subtler problem: when teaching becomes content, it begins obeying the logic of content. That logic – shaped by Meta’s recommendation engine – rewards outrage, oversimplification, and para-social intimacy. The semiotics of the classroom shift. The teacher is no longer a symbol of institutional knowledge and fair authority. She becomes an influencer: a personal brand whose value depends on likeability scores. Here, enforcing discipline, giving a student a poor grade, or delivering hard feedback become threats to the brand. Recent research (Ljungblad, 2022; Roy et al., 2024) separates genuine relational teaching from transactional or performative approaches driven by institutional pressure. This is a conceptual distinction, though not one backed by data linking it to grade inflation or student entitlement. The teacher who runs emotional candid sessions with adolescents on YouTube Live is not building connections. She is monetising the vulnerability of her students and, eventually, of her own.India’s Digital Personal Data Protection Act, 2023, provides that a child below the age of 18 cannot provide valid consent for the processing of their personal data. Yet, classroom reels featuring identifiable voices, contexts, and reactions are published daily by teacher-influencers. Even with faces blurred, a student’s laugh, a wrong answer, or a moment of embarrassment become raw material for a stranger’s algorithm. The UN Convention on the Rights of the Child, in its General Comment 25, affirms children’s right to privacy in digital spaces. Indian law is catching up. But the ethical gap between what is legal and what is right has already widened considerably.Also, the social approval that “coolness” promises is not available to every such teacher equally. Discrimination creeps in there too based on gender, caste, and religion. And, schools increasingly and informally expect teachers to build the institution’s brand online.The regulatory framework is clearer than its enforcement suggests. CBSE Affiliation Bye-Laws also require teachers to maintain professional dignity and avoid conduct unbecoming of their role. Teachers who collect or publish students’ personal data without appropriate consent or lawful authority may incur liability under applicable privacy, data protection, institutional, or information technology laws. Tamil Nadu educational authorities have issued guidelines regulating digital communication between teachers and students and emphasizing professional boundaries. The POCSO Act criminalises sexual harassment, sexual solicitation, grooming, and other sexual communications directed at children. Collectively, these legal frameworks underscore that teacher-student interactions whether offline or online—must remain professional, transparent, and centred on students’ welfare and safety.Understanding of algorithmNone of this is an argument for returning to fear-based, authoritarian pedagogy. But the answer to a rigid classroom is not a boundary-less one. Schools need enforceable guidelines for teachers: no personal following of students, no DMs, no late-night Lives, and no classroom reels on personal accounts. Teachers need the understanding that the algorithm of a digital platform built to maximise engagement is not a neutral medium for education. And, schools must extend legal protection to teachers when students screen-record, misrepresent, or harass them online. The vulnerability in this relationship runs both ways.The job of a teacher has never been to be liked. It has been to be trusted. Before the next reel is filmed and the caption typed, it is worth asking one question honestly: who is this for? The child in front of you, or the count at the bottom of the screen? Those two answers are not the same. And the gap between them is exactly where harm begins.Nabeela Siddiqui, Assistant Professor, Vinayaka Mission’s Law School, VMRF-DU, Chennai.