School Daze/"This is Dr. Barnes, are there any calls for me?"/Rest ASherd

Upon attaining the sylabus to my Historical Methods course, some three weeks after the course had started, I came to realize something:
That I had an assignment due in Historical Methods that was four days late.
After a great deal of denial, this disjointed term is now in full swing.
Want some highlights?
And here they are:

I'm taking an historical archaeology class. On certain days I regret registering for it.
We discussed ceramics for over a class and a half.
The professor says "sherd" instead of "shard." This is a word that she must use often in the course of her lectures.
I'm not sure she realizes she's doing it.
I already told you about my Modern Revolutions course to a degree.
The professor I have come to respect more than any that I have encountered since my Acadia reign.
Because she says things like:
"I did not include a chronological section on this exam. I have no idea why, since you certainly don't deserve it."

Alright.
So, I have a midterm in my Twentieth class.
I am terribly unprepared to write this exam.
I receive my official examination booklet (you know the one I'm talking about), and I start to fill it out.
I write 'Dr.' in the section designated 'instructor:' and then quickly cross it out.
Because perhaps he didn't get a doctorate.
Maybe he tried to and came down with a fierce case of mono before he could conclude his thesis.
And if anyone brings up the word 'doctorate' around him he becomes ennraged and marks on a downward curve.
So, I cross it out.
Then I realize that not only do I not know his academic rap sheet, I also do not know his name.
The course has been in session for a month.
The books and questions are out. He's going over how much time we have to write the exam.
And I have to write something in the space for his name.
Because I've already made a mark there. Of course I have.
This is a 'no talking' situation.
I descreetly lean back to a female sitting behind me.
"What's his name?" I ask discreetly. I'm sweating profusely at this point.
"Bernshnuh," I can't pick out what the fuck she's saying.
"What?"
"Bernshnuh!"
"Oh, thanks."
I cannot begin to write this exam until this matter is resolved.
I consider looking over the shoulders of the people in front of me, to see if I can glimpse it.
Then I realize that this will only result in me getting caught for cheating just to fill out my exam information.
Because that's what would happen to me.
So, I make a stab at it.
My professor's name, that is.
I write 'Barnes'.
Not even close to O' Brien. Which is his actual name.