“Stapleton Approach, Piper Niner-Four-Eight-Two-Charlie, twenty miles north, inbound for landing with information Kilo.” It sounded good, and I had read it verbatim from the script I had written down on my kneeboard before I took off, so I was dreading the rapid-fire response I was sure to get. I quickly keyed the mic again, amending my call with, “student pilot.”
Mind you, at the time, I had had my commercial ticket for more than a year and had logged about 400 hours. But I was out of my league heading into what was then Denver's big international airport, and I knew I'd need the controllers to take it just a little easy on me.
Broadcasting your student status on the radio does a few important things. It alerts controllers that you are new to the family, which may move them to speak (a little bit) more slowly, and be more patient (to some degree) with any delayed or awkward responses. Controllers will try to keep their instructions as simple as possible. That's part of their job, but they can't do it if you're pretending to be higher up on the aviation food chain than you are by not identifying yourself. There's a reason that driving schools have a "student driver" sign on the back of their cars.
At a nontowered airport, identifying yourself as a student pilot allows other pilots to adapt their operations accordingly. They will rightly give you a "wide berth." They will be patient. They were students once, too, and they are secretly cheering you on. But they'll only be patient with you if they know you are a student.
Four decades and five logbooks later I don't make student pilots calls anymore, but I continue to reserve the right to. Certificates aside, I am still a proud student pilot. Every day I learn something new about aviation. Every time I fly, I make a new discovery, polish a skill, or improve my craft.