[ The Atlanta Journal-Constitution: 01/12/03]
Some students hang tough as Life U goes on 
By PHILLIP TAYLOR 
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution 

Although many of her friends left Life University after it lost its chiropractic 
accreditation last summer, Shawona Chapman ignored such temptations.
After the first week of the winter quarter, she's fighting back regret.
"I was saying let's give it a chance," said Chapman, a sophomore. "But these 
last two days, I'm losing all hope."
Gone are the vestiges of a bustling campus she remembers from only a year 
ago. The student cafe stopped serving hot food, now offering only coffee and 
chips.
Students no longer jockey for seats in the now vacant courtyards or for spaces 
in the parking lots. Nell the swan, once well fed by students, scurries over to the 
rare visitors who show up around the campus' centerpiece lake.
Life, at least for now, has become a ghost campus.
But a quiet faith remains for some. More than a dozen students refused to 
comment about Life other than to express support for the school and 
acknowledge plans to stay. Some offer almost defiant devotion, even as they sit 
alone by the reflecting pool at the school's mall.
"I'm not leaving," said Scott Moeckel, an undergraduate who plans eventually to 
get his chiropractic doctorate. "They're going to have to chain the doors and kick 
me out."
Life, at one time the nation's largest chiropractic school, now struggles to 
survive, having lost its accreditation with the Council on Chiropractic Education 
on June 10 and an appeal Oct. 20. After it learned that it would take a minimum 
of two years to restore its credentials, the university sued the accrediting 
agency, seeking more than $100 million in damages.
Slim hopes of an emergency injunction dissolved late Thursday as U.S. District 
Judge Charles A. Moye Jr. declined to restore Life's credentials. Instead, he set 
a briefing schedule, directing the school and the agency to submit briefs by 
Jan. 31.
Lawsuit aside, Life President Ben DeSpain said the accreditation debacle has, 
in essence, pruned the university, enabling the school to strip away deadwood, 
leaving behind only its most vibrant parts. He speaks hopefully of a resurgence 
in enrollment along with the return of the school's accreditation.
"We won't roll over and die, not by a long shot," he said.
Despite DeSpain's enthusiasm, even parts of the university's administrative 
office appear abandoned, darkened by the empty offices of some of the more 
than 200 faculty and staff members who have lost their jobs.
In the parking lot out front, two campus police cars sit unused throughout the 
day.
The loss of chiropractic students -- dropping from an all-time high of 3,200 
students to as few as 268 only weeks ago -- is evident. Popular gathering 
spots at the lake and the Centennial Chiropractic Honors Plaza appeared 
desolate last week.
Even though the chiropractic enrollment jumped to 446 by Thursday, with more 
expected to enroll Monday, only a handful of students dotted the courtyards 
between the annex buildings and the Nell Williams Learning Resource Center, 
the hub of student activity.
The campus' Historic Village, with its 18th-century gristmill and cabins, 
becomes occupied for a rare moment of the day as two women jog through it. 
Even the Eagles Nest, home of several national championship Running 
Eagles basketball teams, seems mostly unused, judging from the scarcity of 
cars in the driveway nearby.
Undergraduate Don Lockhurst said the courtyard and other areas of the 
campus may appear empty now, but he insists that students will return.
Despite the dedication, there are those who say there might be a time for them 
to leave. Their education, they said, simply cannot wait.
"I don't want to, but I know I may have to leave," Chapman said. "I don't want it to 
close down. God knows I don't want it to close down."