The loss of chiropractic accreditation blindsided many students at the Marietta university, who say, in hindsight, they should have seen it coming. Some now say they had misplaced faith in the leadership of what once was the nation's largest chiropractic school.

A week ago, the university lost its appeal of the June revocation of accreditation by the Council on Chiropractic Education. Without program accreditation, graduates cannot take exams to become practicing chiropractors in most states.

Michael Schmidt, the university's interim president, has said he will not allow graduations until the chiropractic accreditation is restored, a process that could take more than two years.

He encouraged the 1,400 remaining chiropractic students to stay, and reassured them the university has enough assets to keep going.

The decision of whether to stay or go is an individual one, and difficult for many students. These are a few of their stories:

Nesly Clerge, Glenn Dale, Maryland

When Clerge entered Life University two years ago, it enjoyed a respected reputation.

The first warning sign appeared six months later. The program was placed on probation in June 2001. But Clerge said he trusted the administration of founder and former President Sid Williams to resolve the problems.

By then, Clerge had roots in the university and metro Atlanta. He had a mortgage on a condo in Cartersville. His fiancee was attending nursing school at Kennesaw State University. "The school was credible," said Clerge, who is 25. "I never thought it would get this far."

But Clerge is a prudent man who is paying his way through chiropractic school, a $58,000 endeavor.

When the program lost its accreditation in June, Clerge put the condo on the market. He made sure he took basic science classes that would transfer more easily than chiropractic adjustment courses. "I thought that would be a good idea, to have a backup plan."

Two days after the appeal failed, he withdrew from the university. "I was basically fed up," Clerge said. "I do not trust the school at this point."

He will transfer to a competing chiropractic college near St. Louis. His fiancee, Karina, will go with him, transferring to a nursing school nearby. The couple postponed their May 2003 wedding.

Despite the disruption, Clerge feels lucky. He was able to sell the condo. He and Karina found a location that suits both their needs. And because most of his credits transferred, his graduation date will be postponed by a few months at most.

Clerge called the Council on Chiropractic Education in Scottsdale, Ariz., and checked on the accreditation status of his new school. Its next review is "years from now," Clerge said. "I made sure of that."

Dana Harvey, Winnipeg, Canada

She had already heard the interim president's take on the lost accreditation, but Harvey attended a student assembly Thursday morning to see if Schmidt would offer any new information. He didn't even speak.

As she listened to a lineup of administrators, faculty and a guest speaker who talked about the power of chiropractic, her face showed the strain of the past few days.

"I don't want to hear that anymore," said Harvey, 24. "I'm sorry. We don't need a pep talk."

Harvey said she is saddened and angered by the situation. She and other Canadian students have learned they cannot take board exams to practice chiropractic in their country unless Life regains its accreditation. Some of her classmates have accumulated $100,000 in debt at Life, between tuition and living expenses.

She is luckier. Her family and a basketball scholarship have reduced her own investment.

Harvey is not scheduled to graduate until March 2004, but will not take the chance. Like most students, she doesn't want to be limited in any way as to where she can practice.

"That's a huge risk that personally I'm not willing to take," she said. "There's only so much you can expect of students."

Her boyfriend, a fellow Canadian, graduated in March. He is practicing in Woodstock. Harvey doesn't want to leave him behind, but said she has little choice but to transfer to another chiropractic school.

She will finish the quarter at Life, then move to Missouri in January. She is trying to remain positive. "There's no point in pointing fingers. There comes a point when you have to cut your losses, and maybe start somewhere else."

Lou Hilliard, Niagara Falls, New York

For two years, Hilliard was Life's biggest cheerleader, quite literally.

The genial upstate New Yorker played "Doc," the towering, furry mascot of the Running Eagles. The elimination of the athletics programs sidelined his cheerleading gig. Now, the loss of accreditation threatens his professional livelihood.

But Hilliard remains optimistic. The 31-year-old plans to stay at the university, a decision that many of his friends here and relatives in New York find foolish.

He started chiropractic school at a smaller college in South Carolina, then transferred to Life in January 2001 when it was "the Cadillac of chiropractic schools." Hilliard doesn't want to move again.

"I made my decision months ago, I was going to stick with this school."

As a safeguard, he will move from the chiropractic to the undergraduate program, taking the few courses that he needs to complete his bachelor's degree. That will give him another four to six months.

He wants to be part of the reason why Life survives this crisis. He is single and doesn't own a home. He only has to get a rental truck to leave, but said he won't.

"I feel very much a part of this school, and I want to see the school overcome this. I think they will. It's just going to take some time."

He accepts the risk that loss of accreditation poses, including the survival of the university. "After all of this is done, everything is going to grow again. Every student that does stay is like a seed, a blade of grass."