Content guide - The following 8 points MUST be included in your presentation, or loss of marks will occur:

1.Context of reading and background of author

2.Summary and main argument (Thesis, support)

3.Rhetorical Modes process analysis - cause + effect analysis-narration- etc.

4.Word choice/ relevance to main argument/purpose

5.Figurative language/ Mechanics: Similes, Metaphors

6.Intended audience, interpretation of purpose, or basis of critique

7.Response: Discussion and examination of ideas/issues, and analysis of the author's support for their argument; presenting your perspective on the reading.

A few weeks ago I was followed into an office-building elevator by a well-dressed young man carrying a briefcase. He looked very sharp. Very buttoned-down. Wearing gold wire-frame glasses, he was of medium height and build with neatly trimmed brown hair and, I would guess, in his mid-20s. Typical junior executive material. There was nothing about him that seemed unusual. Nothing at all to indicate what was about to take place.

The elevator had only one control panel, and I excused myself as I leaned over to his side of the car and pushed the button for the 10th floor. He pushed the button for the 15th. The doors of the elevator closed and we began to ascend. Employing typical Toronto elevator etiquette, I stood staring up at the row of floor numbers above the doors while purposely ignoring my fellow passenger. Then it happened. A sudden strained gasp. Turning toward the noise, I was astonished to see the young man drop his briefcase and burst into tears. Our eyes met for a split second and, as if slapped, he averted his face from from me, leaned his head against the wood-paneled wall of the elevator and continued to weep.

And what I did next still shames me.

The elevator stopped at the 10th floor and, without looking back, I stepped out. I stood in the hallway, a bundle of mixed emotions, wondering what to do. A combination of guilt and uncertainty washed over me. Should I go up to the 15th floor and make sure he's okay? Should I search him out from office to office? Should I risk the embarrassment it might cause him? Is he mentally disturbed? A manic depressive, perhaps? Is he a suicide just waiting to happen?

I didn't know what to do. So I did nothing.

And now he haunts me. Not with fear, of course, but with a terrible sense of regret. I see his face crumbling before he turns to the wall. I see his shoulders heave in a combination of sorrow and shame. I wonder now what brought him to that moment in time. How long had he been holding his pain inside before he could no longer contain it? What could possibly have overwhelmed him to such an extent that he was unable to keep from crying out?

Had he just visited the doctor and been told that he had an incurable disease? Was he having marital problems? Was his wife ill? His child? Had someone dear recently died? Was he being laid off? Was he looking for a job and meeting with no success? Was he having financial woes? Was he without friends in the city and crushed by loneliness?

The sorrows of this world are endless.

The few people I have told about the incident all say that I did the proper thing, the best thing, by leaving the young man alone.

But they are wrong.

Like so many things in life, I know now what I should have done then. I should have thrown caution to the winds and done the right thing. Not the big-city thing. The right thing. The human thing. The thing I would want someone to do if they ever found my son crying in an elevator. I should have given him the opportunity to unload his sadness onto my shoulders. I should have reached out a hand and patted him on the back. I should have said something like, "Why don't you let me buy you a cup of coffee and you can tell me all your problems. There's no reason to feel self-conscious. I'll listen for as long as you want to talk."

What would his reaction have been to that? Would he have turned even further to the wall? Or would he have turned on me? Cursing me? Telling me to mind my own damned business? Would he have lashed out at me? Sorrow and insecurity turning to rage? Would he have physically attacked me? Or would he have gone with me for that cup of coffee?

I don't know. I'll never know. All I can be certain of is that I left him in that elevator with tears streaming down his face. And that he was alone. All alone.

I hope that somehow he gets to read these words, because I want him to know that I'm pulling for him. That I hope things are looking up for him. That I hope his sorrow is in the past. That I hope he is never again burdened with such awful despair. That I am thinking of him. That I said a prayer for him. That I was wrong, dreadfully wrong, not to step forward in his time of need.

That I'm sorry.