The tool is not for sale
When I see a student held back in their learning because they cannot afford the software they are required to use, I see the failure of something that goes beyond me, and that has nothing to do with the student.
Knowledge is not for sale. Neither are the tools that give access to it.
The invisible obstacle
A course can be pedagogically excellent and yet rely on proprietary software the student will only be able to use at school: education edition, limited access, licence expiring after graduation. What they are taught is then not a transferable knowledge but a captive skill: they know how to operate this particular software, provided they have access to it. The day the licence lapses, what they learned vanishes with it.
Free software, by contrast, follows the student. What they learn, they will keep, adapt, pass on. Pedagogy then changes in nature: we no longer teach a tool, we teach with a tool.
Accessibility as the limit case
The problem becomes acute as soon as disability is involved. Students with disabilities often depend on specific tools (screen readers, virtual keyboards, alternative input devices, magnification software, adapted platforms) whose commercial versions cost several thousand euros and remain out of reach for anyone without the right contract, the right administrative recognition or the right employer.
Free software is not, here, an ideological preference: it is a condition of equality. A blind student should be able to rely on NVDA if they do not have access to JAWS. A student with reduced mobility should be able to adapt their interface if they cannot afford a bespoke device. Free software makes these adaptations possible; proprietary software locks them up twice over: there even exist accessibility programs whose licence forbids modification, which is, incidentally, a peak of irony.
What I do when I see a simple tool
When I come across a paid software or pedagogical tool whose complexity does not justify its price (a converter, a viewer, a specialised editor, a small utility), there is a strong chance I will write a free version of it. Not out of ideology, but because I have no reason to let a middleman levy a fee on something I can give my students in a weekend.
The simplicity of a tool makes its paywalled retention all the more indefensible. A specialised editor sold for several hundred euros, when a free equivalent can be coded in a few hours, is not a product: it is an artificial entry fee placed between the student and the knowledge they are trying to acquire.
The same reasoning applies, on a larger scale, to learning platforms. Entrusting courses, assessments and student data to a proprietary provider means accepting that part of the pedagogy escapes both the institution and those it trains. As long as a Moodle, or any free equivalent, can be deployed and maintained, the convenience argument does not hold.
The requirement
Free software is not activism, nor a posture, nor a personal taste. It is a pedagogical requirement: to teach with what students will be able to keep, modify, and pass on. It is also an accessibility requirement: never to let the price of a tool become the threshold of a knowledge.
Every time I can contribute to lowering that threshold, I do. It is less an opinion than a responsibility.