“They Taught Courage Through Song”: How a Phoenix Middle School Sparked a Global Movement
PHOENIX, ARIZONA — What began as a small classroom experiment in one dusty hallway of a Phoenix middle school has now grown into an international debate about education, activism, and the power of music. The school, located just a few miles from where rock icon Stevie Nicks spent her own adolescence, has unintentionally ignited a firestorm that no one—teachers, students, or administrators—ever expected.
It started quietly. A seventh-grade humanities teacher, Marla Benton, wanted to create a morning routine that would help her students feel grounded, inspired, and brave enough to speak their minds. Many of them came from families juggling economic uncertainty, immigration struggles, and the daily chaos of modern teenage life. Benton explained later that she hoped to build a ritual “that helped kids breathe, reflect, and discover who they are.”

Her idea? Begin each morning by playing one Stevie Nicks song—classics like “Landslide,” “Rhiannon,” and “Edge of Seventeen.” After listening, students would spend a few minutes writing about what the lyrics meant to them, or how the themes of change, resilience, and identity connected to their own experiences. The class soon called the practice “Voice Time.”
But everything changed after Benton recorded a short video of her students softly singing along to “Landslide” one Friday morning. She posted it on a small class Instagram account, thinking parents would appreciate seeing their children start the day with something peaceful.
Instead, the video exploded.
Within 24 hours, it spread across social media platforms. Millions watched as the middle schoolers—awkward, sleepy, yet sincere—sang the melancholic chorus: “I’ve been afraid of changing…” Viewers called it haunting, beautiful, and unexpectedly emotional. Many said they felt transported back to their own adolescence, a time when the world felt both fragile and enormous.
Supporters praised the school for giving children space to reflect on identity and courage. “This is what education should be,” one commenter wrote. “Teaching kids how to understand themselves, not just memorize facts.” Another said, “Those kids are learning emotional intelligence—something adults still struggle with.”

But criticism soon poured in as well. Some online commentators accused the school of using music to promote “activist thinking.” Others argued that emotional reflection should not take place in public schools, or that classic rock carried cultural messages children were too young to interpret. A conservative website even published an inflammatory headline: “Are They Teaching Music or Rebellion?”
The school’s principal, Daniel Ruiz, responded in a calm statement: “We teach reading, writing, history, science—and courage. We want our students to think critically and feel empowered to express themselves. Music is simply one tool among many.”
Then came the moment that transformed a small controversy into a global movement.
According to the school, Stevie Nicks herself sent a handwritten letter after seeing the viral video. In looping, elegant handwriting, she wrote: “Music helps us understand ourselves—and understanding is where courage begins. Keep singing. Keep questioning. Keep finding your truth.”
Students framed the letter and hung it in the hallway outside Benton’s classroom. Some said it felt like receiving a blessing from the “Fairy Godmother of Rock.” Others said it reminded them that being brave didn’t always require being loud—sometimes it simply required being honest.
The hashtag #SingTheTruth appeared online shortly after Nicks’s letter surfaced. Within weeks, teachers around the world—from Canada to Brazil, South Korea to South Africa—posted videos of their own students singing songs that expressed themes of truth, growth, justice, or resilience. Some sang folk music, others pop or hip-hop. A school in Denmark chose Billie Eilish; a school in Argentina chose Mercedes Sosa. Each teacher adapted the idea to their own cultural traditions.
Education scholars have since weighed in, noting that the movement highlights a growing global interest in social-emotional learning, or SEL. “Children today face unprecedented pressure—social media, polarization, instability,” said Dr. Helena Martinez, a child development researcher. “Teaching them emotional vocabulary isn’t activism. It’s equipping them with survival tools.”

At the Phoenix school, the students themselves remain mostly unfazed by the chaos swirling around them. For them, Voice Time is simply a peaceful start to the day. “It just makes me feel calmer,” said eighth-grader Sofia Ramirez. “When I hear those songs, I remember that change doesn’t have to be scary.”
Another student, Jonah Miller, explained it differently: “Some people think we’re being taught to rebel. But really, we’re being taught to think. Isn’t that what school is for?”
Even Benton admits she never imagined the impact. “I thought maybe we’d get better morning focus,” she laughed. “Not global headlines.”
Still, she believes the conversation is worth having. “If teaching children to understand themselves is controversial,” she said, “then maybe the controversy is exactly what the world needs.”
As the sun rises each morning over Phoenix, the voices of her students continue to echo down the school’s hallways—soft but steady, uncertain but hopeful.
And in those harmonies, one truth rings clear: in Stevie Nicks’s hometown, courage still sings