Text Leveling System

Be a Perfect Person in Just Three Days

RDQ:	1584	Max Word/Sent	52	Total Words	3321		Diff Words	794
Lex	840	Ave Word/.Sent	9	Hi Freq occurs	2398	72.2%	Hi freq	348	43.8%
AR	4.4	Long Sentences	7.1	Low Freq occurs	165	5%	Low freq	106	13.4%

Some people want to be astronauts 
or ballet dancers or plumbers. Milo 
Crinkley wanted to be perfect.
It all began in the library. Milo was minding 
his own business, looking for a good 
scary monster story, when a book tumbled 
down from the top shelf and hit him on the 
head. First he felt his aching skull to make 
sure it was still in one piece. Then he picked 
up the book. The front cover screamed Be a 
Perfect Person in Just Three Days! It didn't look]] 
like any monster story Milo had ever read.
The author's picture was on the back. Dr. 
K. Pinkerton Silverfish did not look anything 
like Milo's idea of a doctor. He wore baggy 
zebra-striped pants that looked as though 
they might fall down any second, a shirt with 
palm trees on it and two buttons missing, one 
mitten, a clown nose, a bow tie with only half 
a bow, and a dented hat with a feather sticking 
up on each side. Dr. Silverfish was biting 
down on a hot dog, and mustard was dribbling 
down his chin. If you had to pick someone 
to teach you how to be perfect, Dr. Silverfish 
would not be high on your list.
Yet somehow - maybe getting hit on the 
head had scrambled his brains a little - Milo 
felt almost as though the book had jumped off 
the shelf, grabbed him, and hollered "Read 
me!" Besides, it was thin. It probably 
wouldn't take much time to finish.
Milo opened it to the first page, leaned 
against the wall, and began reading.]] 
CHAPTER ONE
I Know What You're Thinking!
You know what you're thinking? 
You're thinking, "How can a funny-
looking guy like this Dr. K. Pinkerton 
Silverfish teach me how to become 
perfect?" Right?

Milo nodded.

Well, maybe I'm not as stupid as I
look. After all, I guessed what you were
thinking, didn't I?
You have just learned the first lesson 
in perfection. Things are not always 
what they seem.
You may turn the page.

Milo did.]] 
CHAPTER TWO

Who Says I Can Make You Perfect?

Who says I can make you perfect?
I do.
I, Dr. K. Pinkerton Silverfish, am an 
expert on perfection. If you don't believe 
it, just ask me.
Turn the page again. Isn't this easy?

Milo had never read an author quite like 
Dr. Silverfish. He turned the page.

CHAPTER THREE
You're Getting Better All the Time!

Very good. You turned the page. You 
can be trusted to follow orders. This is 
essential if you wish to become perfect.
Now I am going to tell you what you 
have to do if perfect is what you want to 
be. It will take you exactly three days. 
Each evening you will read exactly one]] 
chapter of this book. You will follow my 
instructions precisely. At the end of the 
third day you will be perfect, and I will 
congratulate you.
BUT LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING 
YOU'D BETTER NOT TRY.
Under no circumstances should you 
attempt to become perfect in less than 
three days. Whatever you do, don't read 
more than one chapter each day. Many 
people are tempted to sneak a look at the 
very last page before the third day is 
over. All I can say is, DON'T DO IT!

Suddenly Milo had a terrible urge to flip to 
the last page of the book and see what it had 
to say. It might save him a lot of unnecessary 
reading.
Dr. Silverfish glowered at him from the 
back cover, but Milo didn't care. He opened 
the back of the book, flipped past a couple of 
blank sheets, and found the last page with 
writing on it.]]
BOY, ARE YOU DUMB!
Didn't I tell you not to look at the last 
page of this book? Do you want to 
become perfect or don't you?
All right. I'll give you one more 
chance.
When you're finished with this page, 
shut the book. Some evening when 
you're ready to get serious about being 
perfect, open it to page ten. There you'll 
find instructions about what to do on 
day one of your program of perfection.
Now, shut the book, and don't say I 
didn't warn you.

Dr. Silverfish was definitely smarter than
he looked. Milo shut the book.
He decided to take it home. Being perfect 
sounded pretty good to him. He was always 
getting into dumb accidents - knocking over 
his mother's expensive bud vase or sitting on 
his sister's brand-new record album or letting 
the bottom fall out of a bag of groceries 
(mostly eggs) on the way home from the]] 
store. Or getting hit on the head by books in 
the library. Things like that obviously didn't 
happen to perfect people.
And he could just imagine what a welcome 
change it would be to hear people say, 
"Milo, you're perfect." His big sister Elissa 
wouldn't be able to tell him, "You sure are 
stupid, Milo," or "Don't be a pest, Milo," the 
way she did now. His parents would never 
have anything to bawl him out about. And]] 
perfection would probably come in handy in 
ways he hadn't thought of yet. Perfect was 
definitely a good thing to be, and Dr. Silverfish 
seemed to know all about it.
Milo checked out the book. Halfway home 
he remembered he'd forgotten about those 
monster stories he'd been looking for, but he 
didn't go back for them. After all, there was 
no telling what Dr. Silverfish might ask him 
to do. Becoming perfect might take up most 
of his time for the next three days.]] 
Milo had two Creme-Stuft Twinkles and a glass of milk and went to his room to get his homework out of the way. It took him longer than usual, because his mind kept drifting to Dr. Silverfish's book.
Milo kept imagining what it would be like to be a perfect person. He'd be able to do anything he wanted to and do it right the first time. He would be able to throw out all his erasers. He could correct his teachers in front of the class and never be wrong. He'd get perfect scores on all his tests. Best of all,]] 
nobody would ever have anything to scold him about. It sounded . . . well, perfect! He decided he'd read Dr. Silverfish's instructions right after dinner.
Of course, he was far from perfect yet. At dinner his father told him not to slurp his soup. His mother told him to quit eating so fast. And his sister told him to put his feet on his own side of the table.
Milo couldn't stand it. "I bet you'd love me if I turned perfect," he said.
His mother chuckled. "Not much chance of that, is there?"
"I'd settle for okay," said his father. "Nobody's perfect."
"Especially Milo," laughed Elissa.
"I'll show them," Milo thought. "Just three more days." And he gave his sister a kick under the table. There was no sense being perfect until he had to be.
After dinner Milo went upstairs, sat down at his desk, and picked up his copy of Be a]] 
Perfect Person. Even with the clown nose, Milo decided, Dr. K. Pinkerton Silverfish looked extremely intelligent.
Milo began wondering what the K. stood for. Carefully, so he couldn't possibly stumble on anything he wasn't supposed to read yet, he opened the book to the inside back cover and found Dr. Silverfish's biography on the jacket flap.

Is Dr. K. Pinkerton Silverfish the world's leading authority on perfection?
You bet your booties, Grandma!
He is also Thompson Seedless Professor of Enology at the Ripple Campus of Skidrow College. He holds degrees from Fahrenheit University and Centigrade Institute, but when his arms get tired he puts them down. As a hobby, Dr. Silverfish raises Venus flytraps. He also owns the world's second largest collection of unusual toothpicks.

Milo closed the book. His question ]] 
remained unanswered, but he felt ready to begin. He took a very serious deep breath and opened the book to where he'd left off at the library.

DAY ONE

You Can't Take the Last Step
to Perfection Until You Take the First!

I know what you're thinking again. You're wondering what the K. in my name stands for.
Well, I'm not going to tell you. There are a lot more important things than wondering what the K. stands for, and that's why you're here. Close your eyes, count to ten, and open them again.

Milo did.

Wasn't that a lot more important than wondering what the K. stands for? Of course!
Now here are your instructions for the]]
first day. When you finish reading this, get a stalk of broccoli and tie a loop of string around the end. Leave it in your bedroom overnight. When you're all dressed tomorrow morning, put the string around your neck and wear the broccoli like a necklace. And don't take if off until I tell you to. See you tomorrow!

Milo couldn't believe his eyes. He turned the page.

Well, don't just sit there and stare! Go get the broccoli! And don't turn any more pages. Shut the book this instant!

Milo obeyed. He set the book down on his desk and looked at the picture of Dr. Silverfish. It was hard to tell because the doctor's hot dog blocked off his expression, but Milo thought the doctor might possibly be smirking at him.
Milo didn't think about it very long,]] 
though. What he had to do now was find some broccoli.
He went down to the kitchen and opened the freezer. Underneath a bowl of Fake Whip, behind a bag of instant waffles, he found what he was looking for. "Broccoli," read the package, "in a delicious imitation cheese sauce made from only the finest, most succulent chemicals."
Dr. Silverfish hadn't said anything about imitation cheese sauce, but it was liable to be messy when it thawed out. Milo closed the freezer and opened the refrigerator. He was in luck. There in the crisper, right next to a plastic bag of carrots with a bucktoothed bunny on it, was a huge stalk of broccoli.
Milo wondered whether he should take it without mentioning it to somebody. Normally his parents didn't mind his taking things from the fridge, but usually what he took was milk or pie or pop or something. Vegetables were a different story. Milo]] 
couldn't remember taking a single vegetable out of the refrigerator, unless pickles and olives counted. He figured he'd better ask, just to be on the safe side.
Milo went into the living room, where his parents were watching the news. "Mom?"
"Hm?"]] 
"Do you mind if I borrow some broccoli for a while?"
His mother shook her head. Milo wasn't sure if it meant she didn't mind or if she wanted him to be quiet so she could hear about the gorilla war at the zoo, but he decided it probably didn't matter much one way or the other. He took the broccoli upstairs, along with some string.
Milo had a hard time keeping his mind on anything but broccoli the rest of the evening. He wondered how in the world wearing a stalk of broccoli around his neck could possibly help make him perfect, and he was half-tempted to peek in Dr. Silverfish's book and try to find out. But he figured the doctor would probably outsmart him somehow, so he didn't bother. He'd been outsmarted once too often. Maybe that was part of the secret of being perfect, Milo thought: not letting people like Dr. Silverfish outsmart you. Well, he'd find out soon enough. Maybe.]] 
That night Milo dreamed about being perfect. He was sitting on top of a huge piece of broccoli. A halo of green light surrounded him as he smiled down at all the imperfect people in the world and laughed at their mistakes. His sister bumped into the broccoli stalk and stubbed her toe, and Milo laughed and laughed. His mother locked her keys in the car, and Milo howled. His father dropped a big bag of groceries, and Milo roared. In fact, he laughed so hard he fell out of broccoli - or, rather, bed.]] 
An almost perfect day, Milo thought as he looked out the window next morning. Milo himself, however, was a long way from perfection. As usual, he fought with his sister about who would use the bathroom first, and as usual, his sister won. Then Milo played his radio too loud, and his parents shouted for him to turn it down.
At last he was dressed. It was time to get serious. Milo stood in front of the mirror and picked up the broccoli. It looked rather tired and limp despite its night's rest. Milo put the]] 
string around his neck, and the broccoli dangled upside down in front of his chest. It was the dumbest-looking thing he'd ever seen, but he didn't dare laugh, because this was a matter of the utmost importance.
Then he realized he would have to eat breakfast and face his family with this green vegetable hanging from his neck. It was not going to be easy. He dawdled awhile.
"Milo!" called his mother from downstairs. "You're late for breakfast!"
Milo looked in the mirror and fiddled with the broccoli. He tried sticking it under his shirt, but all that did was make him lumpy. His family would never overlook a lump that size in a million years. Better to leave the broccoli out where everybody could admire it.
"Milo!" his father hollered. "Get down here!"
Milo went down the stairs and into the dining room. The minute his sister saw him,]]
she laughed so hard she sprayed a mouthful of Oat Whammies all over the table. But his parents were too busy staring at Milo to scold her.
"What," his mother asked in astonishment, "is that?"
Milo tried to play dumb. "What do you mean?"
"That thing hanging from your neck," said his father.
"Oh, that," said Milo calmly. "That's a stalk of broccoli."
"Sure, Dad," said Elissa. "Lots of people walk around with stalks of broccoli hanging from their necks. That's how you can tell the morons from the rest of us."
Milo made a face at her. She made a worse one back.
"Would you mind telling me just what you think you're doing?" his mother inquired. "I'm wearing this broccoli around my neck."
"Is this some kind of new fad or something?" asked his father.
"No," said Milo, trying hard to think of an explanation that would satisfy his parents. "We're . . . uh . . . doing a play in school about nutrition. I'm one of the vegetables."
"Good thing you're not the watermelon," said his sister. "You wouldn't be able to stand up straight."
"Do you have to wear this broccoli at the breakfast table?" Mrs. Crinkley asked. "Yes," Milo replied. "It helps me remember my lines."
His mother gave a deep sigh. "Milo, that broccoli is for tonight's dinner. Be sure to put it back in the fridge when you get home from school."
"I can't," said Milo, feeling sillier by the minute.
"Why not?"
Milo thought very hard. "Because I need to wear it tonight, too."
"I thought you said the play was today." "No. Today's only a rehearsal. The play is really tomorrow."
"If you ask me, I've got a broccoli-brain for a brother," said Elissa.
"All right, Milo," Mrs. Crinkley sighed. "By the time it finishes walking around with you all day, that broccoli won't be fit for human consumption anyhow. We'll use up the leftover rutabaga tonight."
"Not rutabaga again!" cried Elissa, sticking her tongue out in disgust. For once Milo tended to agree with her.
Well, nobody said being perfect was going to be easy, thought Milo as he stepped out the front door. It was a beautiful spring day,
much too warm to even think about wearing a jacket. There was no way to hide his broccoli, and of course it was the first thing everybody noticed on the way to school.
"What's that for?" asked Milo's classmate George, making a face and pointing.
"I've got a terrible disease," said Milo. "The
only cure for it is to wear broccoli around your neck for a whole day. Then you throw the broccoli away and the disease is gone."
"What's this disease called?" George asked suspiciously.
"It's a long name," said Milo. "I can't remember."
"You're lying, Milo," said Janet. "I've never heard of any disease like that."
"Me, neither." George stepped in front of Milo and blocked his path. "Give me that!" he ordered, and grabbed for the broccoli, but Milo jumped aside.
Usually Milo backed down when George bullied him, but this time he was totally unafraid. George grabbed again, but Milo kept leaping away, holding on to the broccoli for dear life. Finally George got tired and gave up. He wasn't used to Milo's defending himself.
"Milo, that broccoli is the stupidest thing I've ever seen," Janet declared.
"Why?" Milo asked. "People wear all sorts
"I thought you said the play was today." "No. Today's only a rehearsal. The play is really tomorrow."
"If you ask me, I've got a broccoli-brain for a brother," said Elissa.
"All right, Milo," Mrs. Crinkley sighed. "By the time it finishes walking around with you all day, that broccoli won't be fit for human consumption anyhow. We'll use up the leftover rutabaga tonight."
"Not rutabaga again!" cried Elissa, sticking her tongue out in disgust. For once Milo tended to agree with her.
Well, nobody said being perfect was going to be easy, thought Milo as he stepped out the front door. It was a beautiful spring day,
much too warm to even think about wearing a jacket. There was no way to hide his broccoli, and of course it was the first thing everybody noticed on the way to school.
"What's that for?" asked Milo's classmate George, making a face and pointing.
"I've got a terrible disease," said Milo. "The
only cure for it is to wear broccoli around your neck for a whole day. Then you throw the broccoli away and the disease is gone."
"What's this disease called?" George asked suspiciously.
"It's a long name," said Milo. "I can't remember."
"You're lying, Milo," said Janet. "I've never heard of any disease like that."
"Me, neither." George stepped in front of Milo and blocked his path. "Give me that!" he ordered, and grabbed for the broccoli, but Milo jumped aside.
Usually Milo backed down when George bullied him, but this time he was totally unafraid. George grabbed again, but Milo kept leaping away, holding on to the broccoli for dear life. Finally George got tired and gave up. He wasn't used to Milo's defending himself.
"Milo, that broccoli is the stupidest thing I've ever seen," Janet declared.
"Why?" Milo asked. "People wear all sorts
of things around their necks. Why not broccoli?"
"Why not cauliflower?" George scoffed, making another futile grab at Milo's vegetable. "Why not a ham and cheese sandwich? Because it's stupid, that's why."
"Look, nobody's making you wear anything," Milo shot back. "If I have to wear this, it's my business. If you don't like it, leave me alone."
George backed off, shaking his head. "Well, at least I don't have to eat it. If there's one vegetable I hate, it's broccoli."
The rest of Milo's day was rather embarrassing. He was the center of attention in every class. When his teachers asked him why he was wearing a stalk of broccoli around his neck, he told them it was his doctor's orders, and yes, he had a horrible disease, and no, he didn't know what it was called, but it wasn't supposed to be contagious. The hardest part was gym, because]]

Subjective Criteria

Illustrations: No support

Dialog: Multiple speakers

Dialog: Broken dialogue

Dialog: Unlabeled Speaker

Vocabulary: Some difficult words

Language: Many descriptive words

Sentences: Some Long/Complex

Text structure: Story/Poem

Inferences: Some implications

Complexity: Several ideas - closely related

Concepts: Abstract/Complex Social

Chapters

Features

Character traits

Character development

Complex Problem/Solution

Simple Plot

Topic

Self Control

Self Esteem

Behaviors

Improvements

*Feelings, Behaviors

Low Frequency Words

aching	astonishment	astronauts	authority	ballet
bawl	biography	booties	borrow	broccoli
bucktoothed	calmly	campus	centigrade	chemicals
circumstances	college	congratulate	consumption	contagious
crisper	cure	dangled	dawdled	degrees
delicious	despite	disease	dumbest	elissa
embarrassing	enology	essential	extremely	fahrenheit
flytraps	futile	glowered	groceries	halo
hollered	imagining	imitation	imperfect	importance
inquired	instant	institute	instructions	intelligent
knocking	leftover	liable	mentioning	milo
milo's	minding	morons	mouthful	mustard
necklace	nutrition	obeyed	olives	outsmart
outsmarted	overnight	perfection	pinkerton	plumbers
precisely	raises	refrigerator	rehearsal	rutabaga
sauce	scoffed	scrambled	seedless	sillier
silverfish	silverfish's	skidrow	slurp	smirking
stalk	stalks	stubbed	stuft	stupidest
succulent	surrounded	suspiciously	tempted	thawed
thompson	tonight's	twinkles	unanswered	unnecessary
urge	utmost	venus	warn	watermelon
whammies