In a hushed auditorium on Friday evening, New York University’s president, John Sexton, sat on the edge of the stage and offered advice to his accidental students.

Across from Mr. Sexton sat about 30 undergraduates around circular tables, some by themselves and some accompanied by parents. The 30 were among the more than 100 so-called Katrina students taken in by NYU this fall semester on a visiting basis.

Many of them had been enrolled at Tulane University, and others came from Xavier University of Louisiana, Loyola University, Delgado Community College, and the University of New Orleans – schools that will be shuttered for months and maybe years.

To the students, Mr. Sexton said: “Don’t make this a break. Make this a time when you say, ‘Let’s see if I can rise to this.'”

Sometime last week, each of these students got a call from NYU’s admissions office, informing them that they had been accepted. The weary staff of the admissions office worked 14-hour days improvising emergency enrollment policies and sorting through about 400 applications. The university didn’t ask for much – not even transcripts – only an assurance from the students that they had a permanent place to stay in the city from which they could commute to school. NYU would pay tuition, and even for books in some cases, but with student housing filled, it was up to the students to make arrangements for shelter.

As a result, most of the Katrina students at NYU hail from the New York metropolitan area. Most of those interviewed on Friday were not in New Orleans during the hurricane, as classes hadn’t yet begun. Some remained in New York and never left.

One of the students listening to Mr. Sexton was Kirsten Charbonnet, whose situation was different. Ms. Charbonnet, 25, was supposed to be a senior at Xavier, where she has studied vocal music performance. When the hurricane ravaged New Orleans, she hunkered down in her parents’ two-story home in New Orleans East. Her family chose not to evacuate beforehand, she said – “We didn’t think it was going to be that bad.” Influencing her family’s decision was that her father is a police officer who was ordered to stay put.

Ms. Charbonnet gave the following dramatic account of her escape.

On the morning of August 29, her home was flooded with 7 feet of black water. She could hear people in neighboring houses hammering at ceilings and roofs to escape the rising waters. The hurricane had blown the door off the house. Her immediate family, together with her uncle, aunt, and cousin, slept upstairs that night. The water below, which was filled with debris, gas, and oil, slowly rose. They had no electricity, no working phone lines, no running water. They drank bottled water and ate peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches.

The next morning, her father devised a rescue plan. He and her uncle waded into the water and swam toward a motorboat that was parked two houses away, whose owners had evacuated before the storm. Ms. Charbonnet and the rest of her family stepped down a ladder her father had propped against the house and boarded the boat.

Avoiding fences, trees, downed power lines, and debris, her father maneuvered the boat to dry land at Chef Menteur Highway. Along the way, the evacuees picked up a group of police officers, who were stranded at a hospital, and dragged them in another boat, which had no motor. By the end of the trip, a crew of firemen in a third boat pulled the whole convoy to dry land.

After staying a night in a reception hall, she and her family were “packed like cows” into a moving truck and transported to a cousin’s house across the river.

On the following Saturday, September 3, with her father left behind, her family drove to Houston, where her aunt lived. That night, Ms. Charbonnet went on the Internet to find out what options she had as a displaced student. By accident, she said, she came across NYU’s Web site and was directed to a special application, which she printed out and faxed to the school that night. On Wednesday of last week, she received a call from NYU, informing her that she had been accepted.

Two days later, she flew from Texas to La Guardia Airport, arriving in New York for the first time in her life. She came with two pieces of luggage – containing two pairs of pants, six shirts, and toiletries, some of which was donated from relief agencies – and wore spotless sneakers that her mother had purchased in a Wal-Mart in Houston. She carried $150 and has no ATM card or bank account. Her cell phone has been working sporadically.

“That’s about all I have,” Ms. Charbonnet said.

Hours after setting foot in the city, she had registered for a full semester of courses in the Steinhardt School of Education. A classically trained soprano, Ms. Charbonnet signed up for voice class lessons, an opera workshop, Italian diction, and an acting class. Among her many possessions lost to the flood that destroyed her family home was her entire choral music repertoire.

She said she intends to find a job and an apartment, and to graduate with an NYU degree. Perhaps she’ll stay in the city, she said. NYU officials do not know how many of the Katrina students they may accept as permanent transfer students.

On Friday night, Ms. Charbonnet was trying to get in touch with a friend who had offered to house her. She planned to stay with a cousin for the remainder of the weekend and probably for longer. She said she had no idea how to get around in the city and feared getting lost.

She found Mr. Sexton’s welcome address to be “encouraging” and said she hopes when she looks back at the last two weeks, she’ll find the upheaval a “blessing in disguise.”