Imagine your girlfriend, your roommate, your class president, that kid sitting next to you in biology class.
Imagine that only four years after you leave Penn, one of those students will be on the floor of Congress, teaming up with Nancy Pelosi and arguing against Dennis Hastert.
In the case of Harold Ford Jr., no imagination is required.
Ford, a 1992 College alumnus, has risen on the national scene since his successful bid for Tennessee's ninth congressional seat in 1996, just four years after he walked off Franklin Field with a Penn diploma in his hand.
He was keynote speaker at the 2000 Democratic National Convention, ran against Pelosi (D-Calif.) for House minority leader in 2002, and garnered quite a bit of national attention for charging across the House floor and yelling at Rep. Jean Schmidt (R-Ohio) during a contentious debate last fall.
In the process, Ford has certainly made a name for himself as both a rising star in the Democratic Party and something of a maverick in the political arena.
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An observer on the campaign trail can see the traits that have catapulted him to prominence: his charisma, his confidence, the way he attacks problems.
The effect of his fervor and confidence on potential voters is palpable. On the stump, Ford urges the crowd in Jackson to work even harder on his behalf so that he can make a difference in Washington. One man in front looks inspired enough to run to the polls a month early.
After the rally, Ford is all business, huddling with his campaign staff to discuss the latest news, always with that look of purpose on his face. It's the same campaign staff that he impressed with his throwing arm in a game of football instead of preparing for a debate.
And for those who knew him at Penn, a successful political career seems like a natural outcome. The traits that make him stand out on the campaign trail, they say, were already there when he co-founded a black student publication, the Vision, at the University and wrote a column for The Daily Pennsylvanian.
In his four years here, Ford became a force on campus, eventually winning the Spoon Award, given to the most outstanding male leader in the senior class.
"He had the kind of skills that would make him a very good politician," said the Rev. Beverly Dale of the Penn Christian Association, which helped him start the Vision. "When you interacted with Harold, he had the ability to convey respect and at the same time had a willingness to listen. He was just a really natural relationship person."
Ford translated those qualities into positive effects on campus, often standing up against perceived injustices.
In his column in the DP in his sophomore and senior years, he tackled issues ranging from race relations to birth control.
Ford "would rarely be considered a one-issue columnist," said Bret Parker, his editor at the DP in 1989. "He didn't have a very simple perspective, and he was just a very thoughtful columnist."
But his initiative in starting the Vision, which continued publication uninterrupted for years after he graduated, may have been his most significant contribution to Penn.
According to the Rev. Lawrence Burnley, a former associate director of Penn's Christian Association, Ford started The Vision partly due to a displeasure with the DP's perceived underrepresentation of black interests.
"He just thought that [blacks] needed an independent instrument to make sure our views are shared and our interests are addressed," Burnley said.
History professor Bruce Kuklick, who had Ford as a student his senior year, said that despite constantly facing an uphill battle as the only black student in the class, Ford never wilted.
He recalled one occasion in which other students excused the Founding Fathers for owning slaves. Ford argued against them and established himself as the one person always willing to always question prevailing opinion in the course.
His race "never deterred him, never compromised his gracious behavior," Kuklick said. "He was always gracious in argument, articulate, but also very firm."
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The impressive qualities Ford showcased at Penn are certainly among those that have allowed him to become such a success in Washington.
Still, Ford's fast rise to prominence can be attributed just as easily to his last name.
Ford's father, Harold Ford Sr., served as a congressman for the Memphis area for 22 years before retiring in 1996.
Fresh out of law school, Ford was on the campaign trail clamoring for his father's seat, eventually winning the race easily.
Since then, Ford has faced a number of questions about the legal troubles of the many politicians in his family, including his father's acquittal on bank fraud charges in 1993, his uncle Emmitt's 1981 conviction for insurance fraud and the indictment of his uncle John on bribery, extortion and witness intimidation charges last year.
Now on a much larger stage as he campaigns for the Senate, Ford has been pressed to escape ties to his family that once helped him become the youngest congressman in the country.
Ford's Republican opponent, former Chattanooga Mayor Bob Corker, has jumped at the chance to assail Ford's family tree, calling his presence in Washington a result of the "Ford political machine."
The attacks have made the race extremely contentious; Ford said in a debate this month that he didn't think Corker "could stoop any lower into the gutter than he already has in this campaign" and also publicly confronted Corker about attacks on his family before a press conference last week.
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But whenever anyone raises the subject of his roots, Ford refuses to get into a debate. He says he'll always love his family, but doesn't condone their mistakes.
"If you come up with a recipe to pick family, say it. Otherwise be quiet and let's run for the Senate," he quipped at a debate in Memphis this month.
Ford's not his family, and he's not his father.
And he's trying to achieve something his father never attempted - a seat in the U.S. Senate.
In 1992, Ford wrote in a column that he hoped for social change that might put some more diversity in a Senate that didn't contain a single black senator at the time.
He probably didn't imagine then - as a Penn senior still studying in Van Pelt Library and writing papers - that it would be him who would end up trying to do something about it.
